Lying on the ground, the detective began to loosely get to his feet, fighting off his throbbing headache. As he licked and spat the blood from his lips, he stared into the dark presence of the creature. “The-they’re weak to…silver.”, he stumbled to his knees before getting to the wall for strength. With a spinning vision, Bela was still very pained from the Wraith’s hold on him. “A decent pierce to its bloody heart with some silver would surely kill it”, he finished reloading his black steel revolver with said bullets of silver. Preparing to attack, as he hid his gun between his looming shadow and the wall, the creature cried at both of them. But, as he hurled his gun’s eye at the beast, the being launch itself at him. Warping in space, it was hovering over the detective in an instance, howling a whistling sound that scratched at the lad.
As its hand grabbed the pale gentleman in strength, it began using its power. Bringing a spine curdling cry from the man, his mind was being ripping from before his eyes. As he saw the bloody hand dragging the light of his presence into itself, like a blackhole, it suck at his sanity and emotions. As the room became pitch black just before two illuminating streaks of light led the boom of thunder in the sky, the Wraith pushed his victim to the dirt with a unearthly strength of force before looking to the birdman. Screeching in aggression, it formed a new hand in its mass of ghostly shadow, as its last one still drove the Jest deeper into a crazed cry. Causing blood to ooze from his straightened nose, his widened eyes were blind to the blackness before him. Though he mentally fought back with survivalist determination, the creature tended to the other threat. Preparing to attack, it was quick and cunning. And with a vanishing at, it appeared over the masked man with the idea of pulling the same instinctual trick on him.
“Do you have any idea what happened to you?”, the Latina asked in a sensitive tone, as the girl sat on the couch. Holding a mug of soothing tea, she was still traumatized by the cluttered thoughts that brought her to fearful tears. Which the pale punkster could see, from her seat beside her. Trying to comfort her, the poor lady was nodded a no to revealing her horrid memories. Causing Harley to look to her companion, who stood against the door, she turned her empathetic attention back to the lady. “…could you tell me what happened before?...”, she asked again, getting another no from the girl. As Blaze bowed his head in that fact that she was too scared to talk, he stayed quiet in his subdued posture. Looking out of the door threshold to see his trusty wolf lying in a guarding position by the door, the greaser continued listening as the questioning woman thought of something to connect to her.
Remembering the information from her ID, the information of her being French dawned on him, Ed immediately pulled himself off of the wall. Stepping towards the two, he slowly sat in a chair with both set of eyes fixed on him. As hers were like a deer in headlights, staring at his near-unapproachable appearance of masculinity, he softened his voice into a tongue he was glad he picked up in his troublesome childhood. “…Pouvez-vous parler anglais, Lucy?”, he thought to her name, while speaking in her native language. Causing her frightened eyes to meet his after hearing her name, she muttered her poor understanding of English. As the two demons looked at each other in awareness of the frightening barrier, he began to take her mind off of the incident. “So Lucy, qu'est-ce qui vous amène à cet Awekia?”, he softened his tone, as he lady listened with a limited understanding of French. While the girl explained that she came with a friend of hers to celebrate on their holiday leave, the lady soon spoke of her friend’s befriending of a few bikers.
“Bikers?”, Harley looked to Blaze, who asked her if she knew who the bikers were. But, the girl only remembered the club symbol they had on their backs. Ones that the two rebels quickly knew, they thought of the War Riders. Continuing on to talk about how they invited the two to a party at their clubhouse. However, she started to cry and state that everything went blurry after that. With no idea what happened to her friend, Lucy dropped her head into Harley’s chest, as the punkster watch a steaming Blaze stand from his seat. “¿Qué pasa, Ed? Where are tou going, jefe?”, the pig-tailed one asked her partner, who stood at the door. “Mi goin’ fah talk ti War Riders”, he left the room in a rush. As the thought brought a bitter-sweet smirk to her face, she tried to cheer up the poor lass.
Use to fighting radom thugs on the street, Ghost Bird never saw the use in silver weaponry. It was a mistake he would rectify, if he survived. As of now, the beast had pinned Bela and was now lunging at him. Determined not to let go in a frenzy twice in one day, the birdman's vision went on high alert giving him time to think. The gun had silver but he was not fast enough to grab it despite his vision. Then it clicked, the amulet in his belt, would it work? No time to think, he had to act now. Speed slowly returned to him as he dropped one of the daggers. He reached for his belt and grabbed the amulet just as the wraith grabbed him. Pain and fear gripped him as his mind began to spiral. However, with one shot in him, he slammed the amulet at the creature's face. Hopefully it would yield the same effects when used on the Blaze and Harley.
Hurling towards the masked man, the beast was unnaturally repelled away by the mystic amulet of magical fury. Hissing and growling in a pained anger, the Wraith vanished in the sky, fleeing the threat of agonizing strain. It’s cry could still be heard, loud and clear in the room, as the cold tomb hissed with seeping air. Leaving a silent whistle to loom around the two men, as Bela continued being drawn into the belly of insanity. Cracking and crumbling from above, the ceiling rocked at the far end of the room, before the shadow grew present. And, in the flicker of lightning, the being appeared stalking the birdman from behind. Frozen in gloom, the jagged teeth of the creature widened towards the man’s head.
As the Jest grunted with fight, he was thrown into the stone wall, with a load thud of stunning shock. Unnaturally moving along the room, his thin body started to slide up the wall controlled fit of attack. As the creature sat dormant in mind, his victim was nearing on the ceiling, defying the laws of gravity, Bela rolled along the center of the shadowy wall, fighting for his mind back. Curling and recoiling in his own suffrage, as his gun lied on the cluttered ground, the Jest grunted and groaned at the pressure. Being thumped back and forth against the hard surface, the detective opened his eyes and yelled in force. Combating the attack, he was hugged by the shadows around him, and violently beaten into the tomb. As he scoffed blood and kicked at his attack, the monster hunter wasn’t in his right mind to know something else was doing this, as the Wraith warped his mind.
But, he still fought and snorted for freedom, physically punching and kicking as his mind was ripped away from the world. Into a dark word, he hover in a state of deaf, dumb, and blind absence to the world. As the sound of thunder rocked the building, the ceiling crumbled and cracked more under the pressure of the shadow. Echoing with the screams of the Wraith, Bela placed his hands to his own ears, as they oozed the bloody effect of the the warping. Trying to stop the constant screams that drowned his fighting thoughts, he heard nothing but the cries of those who suffered. Widened eyes, staring into a vision he couldn't actually see, he yelled a silent yell of torture, as his eyes replayed the deaths of many. Those he could not save, he was reliving the somber past of his cryptid cases.
Ghost Bird was not stupid. He knew the wraith was hiding, a simple repel would not have killed it. He moved cautiously towards the fighting Jest. He needed to grab th gun and end the beast. However, the sound of breathing caught his ear just in time. He whirled around, shoving his armored hand into its maw. He would sacrafice his arm just to shove the amulet down its throat.
A hollow yell of unearthly agony, the beast cried out as the amulet sat within his stomach, bringing a blurring vibration of shakes from being. The Wraith howled a creepy vibrated the physical limb that guided the threatening talisman down the shadowy body of mist. And, in a dissolving fade, the creature couldn’t retaliate, immediately vanishing in a burst of forceful energy. As its grip on Bela ended, the bloody man gained all of his senses back in a full wave of sensations, causing him to nearly empty his stomach in shock. As he came back to reality, he saw that the shadows were still holding him up. Scrambling for his flashlight, the investigator quickly knew from experience that the darkness was living and manipulating the space around them. And, while the ghostly demon was gone, he could at least rid them of the black beings.
“Illuminata per noctem solis cursu et condemnare sol...”, in the mighty command of his pale hand-gripped tool, he casted the spell of brightness before switching on the light. Bringing a shining beam of a white glow that was beyond earth, his eyes slid into a narrow opening, as a glow as bright as the sun illuminated the darkest corner of the room. Casting out the being of blackness, the shadowy abyss was gripped with light and torn apart. As they ripped like tearing fabric in the wind, they silently died before the Jest’s sights, as he was let go of. Dropping from the ceiling, the thin lad fell for the cold floor. In a weakened state of recovery, he began to walk over to the gun that lied beside the rain-filled doorway. But, as he started to step forward, the Wraith appeared with ferocity, roaring into his face with enough angry might, sending the detective flying back into the room of the coffin. Still reeling from the effects of the amulet, Bela watched as the beast appeared before him. And quick to react, the Jest pulled his bowie knife and sliced the being in its hand, before it could start manipulating him again. With a blade of silver, , the creature spat a loud cry before recoiling in pain. As it vanished again, Bela searched himself to his second silver blade.
Rested on his thigh, he dismounted it and held it in his free hand. A sleek Caligari blade, it stretched long and slender. But sturdy and strong, the silver knife shined with a ability to dig deep into the strong-of-power. As his stiffened back throbbed with the pain of the collision, he spat up some blood and pulled himself to his feet. Using the stone coffin for leverage, Bela stared down the quiet room, with both knives to his side, he stood ready for the next attack. Still blinding in and out from the attack on his mind, his senses bounced back and forth to him. But, he forced a control over them, as his blurred vision and sound slowly watched.
It worked, the wraith was hurt and Bela was free. However, the creature would not stay down. It was akin to swating a fly, granted one that could bite through a man. Ghost Bird got into a defensive position. He caught a glimpse of the detective's state. If the fight continued they would not have enough strength to tangle with any further traps. "This is getting us no where, we need it to stay still." he explained in frustration while keeping an eye out. "Bela, what can we use as bait?"
Thinking of a plan that would work on the being, the man eyed his surroundings and searched for any sign that the creature was there. Seeing nothing but shadowy debris, flickering under the illuminating blinks of lightning, Bela gripped his mind. Still reeling with blurred vision, the detective stood up before addressing the birdman’s question. “…you need to break for the gun…”, he held his knives and stared at the black steel revolver that lied neared the middle of the room, the pale medium continued thinking. Knowing the beast was still present and waiting to attack, Bela was also aware of the nature of such a creature. “Alright, I’ll bait the creature out…you go for the pistol”, he looked to the man, knowing the Wraith would surface for any sudden movement that would leave them open to its attack.
Placing a blessing grip to his two necklaces, he kissed his small cross and opened the salt case. Pouring a bit of it into his hand, he blessed it in Latin before sprinkling it into his hair and head. Knowing it’d assist some bit of a defense, he pushed himself off of the crypt. Charging for the door, his plan did work, as the ghostly being pounced out of thin air and onto to man. Immediately being thrown to the floor, Bela managed to turn around and see the static presence of the creature, trying to gain control of his head. The salts were working as the being froze along his back, trying to get a hold on his head, the Wraith was left open as Bela lied on his back. Facing the creature face-to-face, he felt the pressure over him, as he made an opening for his partner. Floating above the detective, the being was in the best place for the shot.
Speeding through the chilly city of moist fog and heavy rain, the greaser sat in the heat of his Driver’s chair. With his denim clad knee holding the leather wheel straight, his hands reloaded his beastly handgun. With his smoke between his lips, and his eyes on the road, Blaze focused on the task at hand. Thinking over what he planned to do, his pale face was straightened in a cold idea of what was to come. As his thick fist shifted the gears of his stick shift, he took a deep breath before hearing the pop that alerted him that his car lighter was heated. Pulling it from its holder, he placed the red rodded circle to the face of his cig. In a complicated state of mind, the heated light flashed a red puff of fire, once the rebellious demon placed his eyes upon it. Striking a flame to his fully white smoke, he took a deep drag before rolling the window to a crack.
Reaching into his backseat, he thought to the weeping girl, while he fetched his backseat for a bottle. Reminding him of Harley when he first met her, his bushy brows furrowed with intense memory of how much pain Morphisto brought the Latin woman. A pain that she still suffered under, he flooded his mouth with enough liquor to drown the weight his protective promise loaded him with. A load that pushed him to defend and fight for the girl, he saw much of his companion in the poor victim. With an irritated sniff of the air outside of the car, Blaze could smell the wickedness that lied so far away. A wicked feeling that he knew so well, he used it to track down the gang that helped the devil lord’s spread of evil. Radiating the sin that he came to resent with a rage, his stomach turned and his eyes sparked at the stench. Thinking to the search for answers, he turned another corner in his speeding vehicle of pure muscle. Furiously revving along the road, the Black Beauty made its way to the only clubhouse he knew the Wild Riders to be located at. While his eyes fell upon his dogtags, hanging from his rearview mirrors, he turned the dial on his radio. Playing the thumping beat of boogie woogie rock, Blaze bit his smoke. Becoming aggravated by the flashbacks that surfaced in his mind, his head grew red as the smell grew fresher and loader. Overwhelming him with the scent of sin that stuffed the club to its brim, the hunting demon continued following the horrid aroma.
With a grunting lick of his lips, he turned the final corner onto a long stretching street. With his eyes set on the parked lane a choppers, he knew he had found them when he sighted the famed ‘Horde Ground’ bar. And, with burning speed, he crashed into their line of beautiful motorcycles. Causing a load crunching sound, he knew he got their attention when he saw their door open up. “What the f*ckin’ hell?”, he smirked once he witnessed many of them flooding the entrance, with their spirits dripping from the scruffy glare of their jackets. As his car sat tall on the wrecked remains of their once-precious bikes, while his headlights and cabin gave off the hellish glow of blood red, he took another deep drag before opening his door.
Bela's ploy work, gaining the wraith full attention and ire. Now, Ghost Bird needed to do his part. Using his unnatural speed, he went for the gun. He had no time to worry about the detective, as much as he wanted to. Scooping up the gun, the birdman took aim. Accounting for recoil, his aim was true like a falcon's dive bomb. Their was a flash as a bullet erupted from the barrel.
Lying under the threshold to the door, the detective stared into the black sockets of the beast. As it floated above him in a state of shocking pain and savage drive, it tried to claw through the spell. Though, the salted protection did linger, the major threat to the Wraith was the strong shield that Bela left in the doorway, from earlier in their arrival. As the creature cawed and screeched in pain, bringing a piercing throb to the pale man’s ears, he felt the pouring rain fade as his eardrums dimmed in agony. Withholding the feeling, he continued baiting the beast, who were burning in the charmed threshold, causing the barrier to glow orange with his contact.
And in an instant, the blasting gun echoed through the ruined tomb, before a sharp bullet of silver hurled through the heart of the ghostly monster. Tearing through his core like the light, it immediately reacted with a cry of gasping pain and agony. Recoiling its back from the shocking spinal attack, it howled at the ceiling as a red hole burned a shining light into its chest. Ripping it apart like a phantom sheet of paper, it tore into a permanent death, before dissolving into the abyss. Leaving Bela lying in the breath of his own relief, he soon climbed back to his feet. “Cheers, mate…..good job”, he exhaled in exhaustion before kneeling to recollect himself. Congratulating the man, the detective quickly returned to his weakened feet and turned to return his attention to the crypt.
“So, guess who’s absent…”, he smirked through pulsing nerves, as he stared at the cracked stone coffin. With no one inside, and no signs of him anywhere in the area, Luther must have found a way to return to the world of the living. But, as Bela took a deep sniff of his sixth sense, he could feel that Crest wasn’t alone, and someone other presence was here. “…but, not alone…”, he lifted his kit and moved away from doorway. Pulling a napkin from his the bag, he whipped the blood from his face. Staring into the crumbled wreckage and debris, the Jest wondered if someone helped the dead rise again. As he stood in the rubble, with dew swarming the yard around them, the building soon filled with mist and moisture. Covering the air in wetness, Bela continued thinking to himself, still whirling with the headaches and pain of the Wraith. Pushing the pain out of his mind, he placed his attention on his partner, “…think our friend may have aid?…”. Looking to the dark side of the room, where the shadows reminded him of the assistance they already had the luxury to meet, “…well, a more civil aid, as oppose to these ‘pleasantries’ …”. As the moon glistened through the mist, the investigator picked up his flashlight and put away his knives. Breathing in some needed air, the smell of concrete and dirt surrounded him as he flashed the light into the dark room for one last search.
With the beast dead and the detective safe, Ghost Bird handed the gun back to Bela. "So, he has an accomplice? It seems like this man has planned for this day. The creatures were probably a distraction." he said while looking around. "Where would he go now?" he asked.
Taking one last look over the tomb, the lingering detective shined his bright light into the darkness of the light-deprived room. Noticing nothing of considerable note, he returned to his partner, “…seems he may…..”, Bela politely retrieved his arms, and placed it within its holster on his person. Moving out of the crypt after he collected all of his equipment, he stepped into the rain with no sign of them needing to be in the somber graveyard of pouring rain and drowning souls anymore. “…If Luther Crest was awaken, where would he be?”, he muttered to himself before trying to get into the mind of the masterminding magician. Wondering where he’d go in such a situation, he thought to the occultist clubhouse that the man owned, when he last walked the earth.
“…Well, I suppose Crest could have headed to his clubhouse.”, he spoke up in the patter of rainfall, as the sky lit up with lightning. Each strike sending a booming sound of thunder souring after it, Bela spoke closely to the man. Wanting to be heard, the past few events alerted the Jest of the cautious idea of any lingering eyes and ears snooping on them from the shadows. As he countered his own thought with the likelihood of the man having prepared for them before, “But, if he knows someone if after him, it does seem unlikely that he’d head go someplace so obvious…”, he bowed his head in a sign of wondering if that eliminated that hunch. However, before he could continue, he felt the buzzing of his phone. Shielding it with his chest, he saw the familiar number on the screen.
“Pardon me…”, he excused himself from their work as he answered the phone. “Yes-”, he began in a softened tone before being cut off by a fairly blunt voice. Not in the mood for anything less than a straightforward talk, the woman’s fast tone could be heard rushing through the phone. “Abs, I apologi-…..I’m current on a-…..I understand, but I can’t…..”, he quietly tried to get a word in. However, at each attempt he was cut off by the exhausted voice of his irritated wife. Wakened by his mother to deliver a dire message to him, the woman was highly aggravated into a speaking tempo that was naturally faster than most, but exhaustingly slow for her regular tempo. Bela’s face dropped into an expression of displeased shock and alarming surprise at the lady’s enlightening words. “Alright, lass…I’ll be present, shortly…”, he held back any further argument, before hanging up the phone. As he stepped closer to his soaked vehicle, he looked to his partner and spoke with a bit of good news. “Apparently, our poor lass has fortunately risen…”, he told the birdman of the unconscious woman’s new state of being.
Opening the black car’s tearing door, the soaked man unlocked the vehicle before getting inside. Closing the door behind him and starting the engine, steams started to burn through the moist hood, as water evaporated over the warming heat of the car. Hoping they could get some bit of information from the girl, he checked his pocket watch and stared into the moon’s clouded light. “We could organize our next move at mi office…”, he looked to the cloaked gentleman. While fetching his pocket for his medication, he swallowed one as he waited for the masked one to get inside before pulling off for their previous location in the city.
Hearing the phone conversation made Ghost Bird's mindset switch to Joseph's for a second. Family, everyone had them, even the criminals he branded. However, this simpathy passed, the mission was the here and now. Not relishing the thought of seeing Blaze again, the Birdman said, "Alright, but let's not take long." He entered the car and seeing the medication he asked, "Are you sick?"
Out of the cemetery and a couple miles of the way home, the pale man drove quickly for extra time. “…Pardon?”, the thin framed figure wondered, turning his around to register the man’s question. As he slid his pill bottle away, he shyly chuckled off the comment, and a tipped his head in thought. “Yes…I suppose if we are to work together, ye should be informed…”, he laughed at how he’s been holding it off, “…not exactly sick”. Turning a corner and pulling down the cobblestone road, Bela continued with a slowed tone of precaution. “…I have a little predicament that I have to keep track off…”, he toyed with the truth before continuing his explanation. “…a condition that I ‘develop’ in mi adolescence, it could be quite a problem, if I don’t manage myself, properly....”, he glared out of the windshields. As the headlights lit ahead of the road, the black vehicle rolled with a pace that eased through the hurry of the predicament.
“So, I take medication to subdue an unwanted escalation in heart levels, anger and fear stimuli…”, he took a deep breath and continued driving into the night. As the rain grew strong, the thunder boomed and flashed with intensity. Causing the street to flick in the blinding light of the sky, Bela kept his steady control before turning the corner to his office building. “Think of it like a dissociative identity disorder…..it’s an extensive pain in me bum. And an even more so a serious problem for the lot around me to deal with. I could become quite overwhelmingly uncivilized and dangerous to others…but, I have it controlled…..for the most part”, he thought about the dangers of his issue, plaguing his life with paranoia and pain. Pulling into the back alley, his drab mind was cut short by his eyes, noticing the absence of the Black Beauty. As he pulled his car back into its previous spot, he parked it and opened the door. Stepping out, he immediately looked to the skid marks on the brick floor. Dragging out into the street before scraping the pavement, the Jest knew the driver was in a rush. And a rushing Blaze was never a good thing, Bela looked to his upstairs window. “…we should hurry…”, he stated in empty thought, as he left his kit in the vehicle.
Walking through the rain and into the house, Bela looked around the entrance hall before heading upstairs. “Anna! Anna!”, he called as he quickly ran into his office. Seeing the pigtailed lady sitting next to the awakened woman, whispering a calming hymn of softness, he saw no sign of the macho greaser or his pitch black canine. As his eyes turned to the brunette that stood at his desk, staring at his with a dulled face of restlessness, he returned his attention to the girl. Still shivering from the shock of cold, as the distant fireplace warned the room, Bela spoke up to announce his entrance. “…ladies”, he politely bowed and looked to the Latin woman, as she smiled back with her song hugging the poor girl. Seeing her eyes closed to the world, she lied upon Harley’s shoulder in a tranquil spell of a gentle doing. One which the Jest could see and give off an expression of displeasure in the demon’s blatant ignorance to his plea not to use her powers on the girl. Immediately getting a playful pout that mixed her playful rebellion and sincere knowledge in her method being the easiest way to calm the unfortunate woman. “…I’ll be with ye shortly”, he muttered, before stepping to the lady who pierced her violet-eyed at him in the need to talk. Onto the other side of the room, he spoke to his wife, leaving the girl to the birdman to approach, first.
Learning of Bela's condition made Ghost Bird ponder this alliance. Looking out the car window as rain and streets went by, he remembered why he only had a few trusted allies. People have their demons and that made them a danger to his work. If the detective became a danger, then only bad things could happen. It is why the birdman kept his anger under wraps. Letting go, like in the cemetery, was almost nonexistent for him.
This is why he did not care for the greaser, a dislike that turned to worry as he saw the skid marks outside Bela's office. However, he had to hope Blaze was not out killing, for now. He entered with the detective and soon discovered the unconscious woman was now awake.
As Bela left to take care of his business, Ghost Bird merely watched the woman as Harley comforted her. 'You stare at her like a lost pup, have you forgotten your duties?' his master's voice whispered in his mind. The birdman spoke clearly, irritation clouding his secrecy, "Good idea, let the blood covered birdman talk to the traumatized woman."
As the dyed haired woman sat around the woman, radiating the heat of her burning spirit, she created a surprisingly peaceful energy for a demon of her temperament. Filling with the heat of the room, matching its feel almost as if she was cold-blooded, the demon’s skin shifted out of her pale ghostly state and into a warm olive, helping her look like her noticeably Hispanic mortal self. For the well-being of the mortal’s mind, Harley continued feeding into her slumber of safety. Whispering words that would subdue the fright that that shocked within her, the punky Latina kept her own eyes set on the pair speaking within the background of the room. Standing before each other, they conversed a heated discussion of nonchalant muttering. Low and quiet, their voices were calming speaking words of disorder, though the otherworld rebel could still hear well enough to be nosy.
As the cautious of his work, him questioning her safety, her questioning his, the content of the investigation, and the severity of this investigation, both of them stayed rather calm and collected, as they strongly disagreed with each other. Though, Bela had a far easier job at it, with her burying her annoyance into a glass of scotch. Baring similar jobs, Harley was starting to see them as the same, these days. Identical to one another in their black hair and dress style of drabness, along with their comparably thin postures of worry, the demon snickered a breath of amusement at how much the would-be pair fit each other. “Are ya two done yet, ¿Barco del amor?”, she nonchalantly spoke up, getting the couple’s preoccupied attention. Drawing their restless eyes to her, the irritated woman placed her palm to her forehead, whipping her tired nerve-twitching brows, as her husband returned to the situation at hand.
“Pardon me…..when did she wake?”, he took a seat in a nearby chair, bringing a tea kettle over with him. Politely crossing his legs, the Jest looked to the Latin woman, who slowly began to part from the girl. Opening her eyes to the two men, the lady stared at the lot of them as the olive lass explained. “She woke some time ago…Dios mío, she was in ah fit of fear. Like, a really bad on…”, she nodded her head in her usual peppy fashion, As Lucy’s mind eased, Harley broke from the seat and stood up, gazing into her phone, she soon moved to the side to answer its message. As Bela smiled at the foreign woman, he gently asked for whatever she could remember, before the pigtailed lass to inform him that she could only speak French. “Ella no sabe ingles, hun…poor thang, she from France…..”, Harley muttered with as much feeling as a demon could muster up.
While the fire crackled in the background, and the lass sat too stilled to drink the mug of tea in her trembling hands, Bela looked to the birdman. “…I don’t suppose ye know French, mate?”, he stirringly asked the masked man, as Anna unhurriedly presumed her spot behind the chair of the Jest. Listening closely, the brunette woman smiled a human smile at the girl. “Pourriez-vous nous dire ce qui s'est passé?”, she spoke in the tongue that the Frenchwoman thought in. Catching the attention of her husband, who was surprised to see she knew the language, Bela quickly realized what she was up to. Using her own abilities to roam the girl’s mind for an understanding of her native tongue, Anna translated what she replied with. Repeating what she told Blaze earlier, she informed them about her trip to the country of holiday with her friend. Meeting and getting tangled in with a few bikers, whom her friend trusted, what came afterwards was a blur of fear and emotions. With her being attacked outside a small club, shed believe her friend was kidnapped by her attacker.
Bringing a stressed thoughted to the mind of the detective, he began to see it in his mystic head. As the soft hand of his wife lied on his shoulder, with her mind connected to Lucy's, Bela was able to link itself through to the memories of the lass. Feeling her pain and grief, he saw the bikers and the shadowy dressed men who harmed her. Dragging her screaming friend off into the black abysmal darkness of the alley, one of the aggressors bit Lucy as she tried to fight them off. Sucking her until she was unconscious, Bela stood in the middle of the alleyway. With a cringed face of disturbance in the horrid act, he could smell the distress in her actions and the terror in her heart, as scream fainted into the distance. And, as the sucker was dragged off of her, another hidden figure snickered with a sadistic laugh of pleasure, his voice was deep and scratching to the spine of the Jest's mind. Assuming the silhouette was the being that commanded this, the figure soon disappeared as the rest of his men left. Leaving the girl for dead in the cold alley, the group faded away as Bela stared down as the dying person. As the hissing sucker lingered in the shadow, the otherworldly bang of Blaze's arriving gun flashed through the dark with the light of the wrathful sky, thunderously filling the night with the booming sound of the growing storm. And in the instant, Bela was rushed back to reality.
As the violet-eyed telepath stood with her senses tapped into her thoughts, he saw the medium's sight. With a deep breath of grimming chills at the image of being in the lady's shoes, she asked if the girl remembered the name of the biker club. But, with a shrug of emptiness, Harley filled in her unknowing response. "...the War Riders", the Latina broke from her text, in a smiling tone, breaking the eerie tension of the pair with her nonchalantly upbeat voice. "Jefe left to visit them...", the pigtailed woman informed them of her companion's activities, in the midst of speaking to him and learning about the results of his visit. With her regular grin, she stared at their pondering expressions, "...he was quite angry.....Espero que no haga nada malo".
Ghost Bird shook his head in response to Bela's question. Other than english and the strange language of his god's worshipers, he was limited. Luckily, the detective's wife spoke the same tongue. Through translation, the birdman learned of the bikers, the kidnapping, and the vampiric attack. Worse still, it seemed Blaze went after these "Wild Ones".
'Avatar! Find this man now!' Rage filled words tore into his mind. His master had little tolerance for those who interrupted his brand of justice. The rage made Ghost Bird grasp his and nearly fall. Supporting himself on a wall he seathed, "Where are these Wild Ones!"
“…and, ye allowed him to leave?”, the Jest stood in worry of what that angered demon could do, trying not to image the things that could be happening right now. As he looked to Harley, along with his wife, the pigtailed demon tipped her head in a judging rise of her fairly thick eyebrow, “…’allow him’? ¿Estás bromeando ahora mismo?...I’m not his mother, I can’t control his actions…Es un hombre crecido!”. As she scoffed off their looks, she looked to birdman, as he asserted his question over her explanation. Knowing the girl wouldn’t know where they were, the Latina answered quickly, “…he’s probably at the Horde Grounds in Blackpoole, their main chapter…the Wild Ones’ chief is there, and he knows everything that happens in the club…”. With a smile eased into the shape of a smirk, Harley heard the disappointed words of Anna. The woman who never liked the two demons anyway, “…I don’t know why you’re surprised Bela, she’s a manipulative demon…she probably sent him…”, the Jest was too busy grabbing it stuff. Before the two woman could argue, as they usually do whenever they are together too long, he addressed the necessary action.
“Okay, okay…Harley, would ye navigate me to this Horde Ground?”, he grabbed his kit, as the peppy punkster nodded and skipped into her upbeat mood, “I call fronties”, ignoring the mortal woman who disliked her so. As the signing Jest looked to his wife, “Anna, could ye please watch over the lass for me?”, he looked to her as she agreed in no contest. Telling him to be careful, the Jest motioned to his partner before bowing to the lass. “S'il vous plaît, détendez-vous ... Je vais ... être de retour bientôt”, he spoke in the little French he could muster up, before leaving the room in a hurry. Informing his partner of the obvious plan, “…hopeful we may catch him before he does anything too disastrous…”, he rushed down the stairs while holding the rail to keep his shuffling feet from tripping under their speeding steps. As Harley bopped her way out of the door, she moved for the car. In an athletic bout of excitement, she climbed onto the roof of the car, knowing the doors were enchanted with the magic that forbidden beings like her, the ghostly looking lady transcended through the ceiling of the vehicle and into the front seat. Rolling down the hand-cranked window, she slid her fit figure out of the threshold and waved to them. “Com’on slow-pokes!…a furious jefe awaits…”, she grinned and bounced with the appearance of a child rushing their parents out of inpatient eagerness. A joy for the longing want for her mate, she showed an open want to hurry and get to the clubhouse, even though it was for reason for opposite from the two detectives.
“Alright, calm down…”, Bela spoke with the unlocking and opening of his door. Seeing the abnormally gleeful Latina, as he started the engine, he waited for the birdman to get in the vehicle before pulling off.
The Horde Ground / Blackpoole, Engstland, Awekia / 1:02 AM
A crooning Rocksteady grooved a late 50s beat through the juke hall of the clubhouse, as a red tent loomed over the room. As the sounds of whimpering lingered in the background, the smell of blood and death filled the compact building. With the second floor of the two storey structure wrecked and crumbling in, red flames scorched through the rusted metals and rotted wood of the clubhouse. As the smell of lust and gluttony died under the torturous fire, the ashes of fear and regret surround those who sat in the hall. Pushed into the corner of ground floor, the horrified group of mortals stared into the mayhem, and it's causing. The few bikers Ed didn’t kill, and the innocent groupies that happened to be hanging out at the time, the group of people held each other in trembling terror, as their eyes looked on at the ‘man’ that they previously witnessed commit inhuman acts of monstrous savagery.
Sitting at the glass-covered bar, the greaser held an empty glass as his head stared into the burning ceiling. Hearing the crying mortals that squeezed into the spots that were not engulfed in flames or cluttered with dangerous debris, his hears were too drowned with the sound of the music, grooving its way into him and pushing out the natural rage that created him. Subduing the scornful anger that built up with ever throbbing whiff of that godforsaken essence of evil, cooking away in his fire, the tracker chuckled into the thought of Morphisto's doing. A house constructed by the energy that attracts and feeds the entities he was made to hunt, the demon finished his drink on a reassuring thought of the world have one ounce less of said energy in it.
The club suffered from the hellfire that Blaze unleashed, as he sat in a state of recollection. In his human form of being, he suppressed the beast, as the polarizing sound of lovely horns oozed out of the blood covered jukebox. As the crimson red innards of bikers lied under red sparks and wooden rubble, they were covered in the pitch black blood of ghostly monsters that the hunter-demon knew thrived on these type of cesspools of sin. While the fire clung to the black ooze more than anything, igniting the substance in a punishment of hellfire, the biker sat across the bar from a stilled man. A reasonably middle-aged bartender stood behind the bar in a state of traumatized shock, glaring at the red-hot man with wide eyes. “Please! Can I go…I’m just a bartender…..I have nothing t-”, he froze under the burning sight that looked back at him with bayed rage. Pulling away from the petrified face, Ed looked at his ghostly face in the mirror that hung behind the bar. With a full glimpse of his soldering flesh and steaming hair, fire smoking from his eyeballs and liquored up lips, he sighed and tipped his head a bit of shame. Taking a few seconds to smell the man’s soul, Blaze pulled the bottle out of his hands, and tuned his lips up in a smile which did little but mark his guilt in terrorizing the innocent man. “Go on, now…”, he muttered before refilling his glass, with his mind humming to the lyrics pouring from the yellow lights that shined from the radio. He began to sing the lyrics in a low tone, before roaming the view of the room. Catching sight of the many people who he didn't kill, he cracked his neck and signed a deep breath, waiting for Harley to bring the investigators.
Fighting the urge of his master, Ghost Bird entered a strange state of subdued anger. Like dogs being held back from their prey, his hands opened and closed, itching to stop his agitation. He sat in the back right away, as to avoid interaction with Harley. Right now, his master's ire was to the greaser, but that could easily change. He spoke to Bela once he was in. "Depending on what we find there, I can't promise peaceful negotiations. My master is on the verge of a direct order for punishment and I don't know if I can refuse." the birdman explained through gritted teeth as the god's presence bared down on his mind.
Without much to say in this time, the driving man muttered a agreeing quip as he began to rush to the area. As the excited woman sat in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around her legs, as her head lied on her knees, like a little girl in the fetal position, she breathed an open smiling scoff of anticipation and amazement in the birdman’s comment. Wondering what he may do, she thought to his master for a second. As her rainbow dyed hair hung in her richly lit face, her eyes widely displayed her bright pupils. “Geez…tough crowd, ey Bela?”, she poked a joking jab at the seriousness of the room, while looking to her friend in the driver seat. Though, after getting no reply from the man, deep in his own thoughts and hopes for this night not to get any grimmer, she tilted her head. Raising her petite booted foot up, she tapped his shoulder, to get his attention for an answer, before getting a call to stop her pursuit.
“…fine!”, she nonchalantly rose her head from her knees in pep, looking to find something to hold her attention until she was reunited with her love. Looking to the radio, she turned it up to hear soft 40s era Swing music. Immediately bopping her head to the rolling rhythm, she was interrupted by the quick reaction of the Jest. Turning the music off, to catch his thoughts, he placed a confused expression in her direction. “…how could ye be so happy in a time like this?”, he pulled through a green light and through the city, as she smiled at him. “…how could ya not? This is so exciting!”, her voice vibrated with her ecstatic bouncing in her seat. Pulling her thighs into her tight figure, she awaited the reply she knew he had coming. “…he’s possibly out there, murdering som-”, he was cut off mid-sentence by her softly flavored voice, “…some what?….some innocent soul”. Speaking in a mocking tone of sweet moral good, Harley continued on her point, “Ow ingenuo…just because they were born with a soul doesn’t make them good in spirit…”. Looking out of the window with the sight of seeing many evil energies in the eyes of the most ordinary of people, “…there are some truly ugly demons in some people. And not the possessive kind, like mi, no…the kind that grows within people, and rot them to the core. There’s no helping ‘em, once they get that far…there f@cked, Bela…f@ck to the world”. She chuckled out of her grim memories of the darkness that lies within life, embedding itself onto the weak and warping them into mortal monsters. But, before Bela could talk again, the punk interrupted him again, “…and, it’s best to rid this world of ‘em…f@ck ‘em all…”.
As the rain pattered against the glass and steel with chilling force, the car grew cold and icy in moody. While her skin lowered into a pale tint of ghostly frost, she sat still. Falling into a serious stare into the demons of her past, tormenting and torturing vulnerable beings like her former life, feeding off of their weaknesses for power and greed and the pursuit of their own sadistic pleasures, she reassured her ideals in vengeance, before seeing Bela had given up the argument, knowing she, like her equally stubborn companion, weren’t going to change. The detective knew the two were lost cases, with this being one of the occasional times he regretted having to watch over for his father’s sake. And, in the moment, she turned the radio back on and started bopping her head to the slow Jazzy tune. But, after a few long stretches of road, she pointed the car in the direction, and they were soon in the quietly industrial landscape that withheld the disgust of the old rickety clubhouse.
--------------------------------------------
At the Horde Ground
“Ow, there it is”, she pointed and bopped up and down, as the car slowed to a stop on the opposite side of the street. “Alright, alright…stop jumping”, the Jest stated in a dull tone of tiredness, as she speedily climbed out of the window and ran for the building. Through the street, she saw Blue the wolf lying outside, chewing on a ghoul skull, as the body lied dead under him. “Hell boy…”, she skipped around the cluster of burning cycles, under the Black Beauty, as its wheels emitted a series of flames that melted the machines under it, the Latina moved pass sprinting people. Ignoring them as they ran in fright and terror, they clung to life as they blurred as far away as they could. “…is Jefe inside?”, she held her hands close to her heart, and exaggeratedly gasped when the canine gave her a mute glare. Tearing through the swinging door she feasted her eyes on her mate and yelled, “CARAMELO!!!”. Hearable from outside, Bela signed before getting out of the car and slowly walking to the bar. With his heart pumping with each step, he grew more and more antic of what could be behind the threshold, thinking about what Blaze may have done.
“Ow, I missed ya, so much, che…”, the tall greaser cupped the face of his once-cold lady. As her crystal glare quickly cleared his mind and heart of anger, he basked in the warmth of her flavored kiss. Tasting her fruited red lipstick, and feeling of beautifully soft skin, his breath oozed in volcanic heat. Holding her so tightly that he lifted her into his muscular physique, she giggled into his intimate embrace and thawed into her tan. “…Yo también, amor ... No podía esperar a verte de nuevo”, she rubbed her nose against his, while the hellfire made them cozy, they hugged like lovesick puppies. She cooed to him in her soothing language, loosening his tightened joints and she grew lively from her burning energy. Smelling the room around them, they began to fall into their own united world of peace and happiness. With all of the citizens having been released, the only living beings still left inside were the few high-ranked bikers that the greaser tied up for Bela and the Birdman to talk to; leaving the room clear for the two demons to reconnect in blissful solitude. Hearing the Rocksteady rooted beat of exotic rhythm and blues, the started swaying to the rolling groove of their flavour.
As he heard loving roots reggae music pulsing through the bean red windows of broken glass, he saw bodies lying in the doorway and window pane. Both those of the once living and once undead, they lied extinguished of movement. While the pale Jest’s eyes centered on the two kissing rebels, holding each other in a mess of flames and blood, Bela walked pass the preoccupied dog and opened the door to be hit with the overwhelming stench of burning flesh and heated dead. Stained by the shadowy remains of wicked ghosts and ghouls, they lied in piles along with the bikers. As stepped inside and saw the bright light of fire and smoke. Coughing from the heated air of clogged thickness, he pulled his jacket up to his nose. Watching them slowly dance and sing love-filled lyrics, almost as if this was the prom that they never went to, Bela carefully walked through the rubble. As the wall behind the bar began to crumble down, a large big of the smoke exited through the hole as the two figure crooned into each other's harmony of soulful passion and feeling. “What the bloody hell, Ed?”, the detective grabbed the biker’s attention. As Blaze looked onto the Jest, he smiled and called back in calmed welcoming, “Bela…mi see Ley did bring yuh”, he broke from Harley before lifting and helping her make a seat out of the bar counter. Deeply kissing her again, she absorbed him into her lengthy embrace again, until he finally broke free with a not-so-wanted pull. Turning and walking to the Jest, he licked his lips and strutted with pleasure, “Hey brethren, tha War Chief‘s inna bak…he fah like ti talk ta ya…”. With a smile perfectly oblivious to the shock on Bela’s face, Blaze stood still as a loosened stack of bricks fell to the floor in the side of the building.
The birdman began to tremble in the back seat. The presence of his master slowly engulfed his mind. It was a show of power from god to avatar. The message was clear, do not let Blaze go unpunished. The worst part, Joseph knew this was only a small fraction of his master. Once they reached the bar things got worse. Ghost Bird froze when he exited the vehicle. In a world only he could see, spirits danced with maddened glee. Victims of the Wild Ones, corrupted by their need for revenge, too far gone now that they got it. Memories of his failure flooding his mind.
Clenching his fists, he stormed into the bar, the smell of burnt dead only fueled his anger. Not caring if this was a tender moment between lovers, avatar and master spoke in unison. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" the unnatural sound of angered god and mortal filled the room.
Drawing the gazes of the two rebellious spirits, the greaser rose his brow in thought, as he stood before the Jest. While the humming lady sat on the wooden bar of spilled liquids and rubble, she tilted her head in the same thought. “…Ow yeah…the birdman’s master is livid…..I think he wants to punish ya, jefe”, the pigtailed demon remembered, speaking in a mockingly playful tone. As the natty headed man whipped his hands long his slim-fitted black jeans, clearing blood off his hands, he glazed his slice hair with a graze before chuckling a bit and turning to walk back to his love. As the pale detective began to check on the numerous bodies lying about, seeing if any of them were still alive, Harley pulled out her phone to pass the time. Until she noticed the hothead stepping back to her, with a smile, she lifted his gun off of the stool that he left it on. “…need ya gun, hun?”, she asked with pep, holding it out for him to take, expecting him to fight the birdman. But, in an unspoken dismissal of the weapon, Ed leaned in to kiss her in loving gratitude, before quickly returning to the issue. Savoring the act that Harley was left pondering on, he reverted his attention to the questioning men.
“…cleanin’ th’ gutter, mi hermano…clearin’ de air of these ‘ere baddies…”, he chuckled into the flames, walking away from his lady and deeper into the dead gang members. With a smile on his face, he finally began to smell the clear Awekian breeze rushing through the crumbling holes in the wall, and washing out the heat smoky clouds of burning flesh and blood. Doing away with the stench that was the ‘Horde Ground’, the demon knew investigators needed to see the rest of this horrid place for all that the two rebels knew it to be. “…dis here men ah into som’ heavy sh!t, bredren…more dan fi ya average petty gang sh!t. No, no…heavy traffickin’ of black markets goods…drugs, weapons, but mostly people”, he gained Bela’s attention as his strong Caribbean bayou accent thickened with the explanation. Having known of the clubs activities in the illegal trade, Blaze pulled out his smoke. Getting a cold stare from the Jest, “…so, not ye’re a hero, killing for the greater good?”, the pale man spat in knowledge of the two demons never showing a care in human affairs before. Drawing the demon’s glare, he smiled with a reply. “…hell no…mi fah leave dat fi th’ would-be hero across the pond”, the greaser laughed, assured in himself not being a hero or a beings trying to come across as one. The self-aware male continued, “…but, I don’t tink Lucy was ah mere coincidence…two foreign girls run inna wid dis here @sshats”, his words brought a new chain of thoughts to the detective, as he kneels before the boiling remains of a ghoulish-looking figure.
Thinking back to his vision, Bela could still see the images, as Harley sat in liked-mind with her mate. “…one disappears and the other is bitten, drained, and placed under a spell…”, the punky lady began to piece together the Wild Ones’ place in all this. As Blaze nodded in agreement, he immediately carried her addition, “-then, de wicked green eyed men in suits com’ with charms against Ley an’ ah mi, and wreck mi Beauty…trying to get to the girl…”, he pointed in his beautiful car’s direction, with a grudge that still lied within him over the attack on his precious car, parked on top of a pile of choppers. “…so what, ye think the Wild Ones’ are working for Morphisto?”, the investigator tried to catch their drift, thinking of the bikers’ position as henchmen to that dark being in his vision. Hanging on the edge of the bar, by her tight leather pants, Harley listened with excitement in the unveiling case. “No, mi tink dey’re sellin’ t’ Morphisto, or, Crest, or whoeva de devil‘s fah usin’ t’ do his biddin’…”, he stated as he pulled down a block of flooring that hung from the level above. Ripping an opening in the space, Ed looked to the vocally furious being as his lady hopped up and skipped into the back of the room, “So, mi fah be bak, wid ah biker fah ye ti chat wid…”.
Ready to leave the investigators to their stances in the ruined bar room, most of the crumbling regions of the club was now caved in. As the jukebox oddly stood in tip-top shape (excluding the blood glazed over it), the rest of the area was simmering down as the murky black substance of evil dies into the black smoke that blew into the air. As the record shifted and changed the tune of the room, calming the environment down. “…have ye thought about if ye are wrong, in ye’re theory? Then, all of this killing was in vain…”, Bela muttered in the fact of the theory not being enough to justify this horrid act. Still wondering why he was surprised in the demon’s actions, the grim shaggy haired figure still bared shock in the lack of remorse and care, which lived within the rebellious demons.
As the cracked door seeped in the smell of scorching skin, Blaze led the way to the chief of the entire biker gang. Strapped down to a chair by a tight rope, the man immediately thought to a savior being the sound that crept down the rickety stairwell. “HE-HELP! Some f@chin’ maniac ca-”, the man’s yells froze once he saw the stocky greaser, as clear as the soaked red shirt that was once pure-white, stepping through the dark room of tight spacing and cluttered junk. Getting a whimpering reaction from the once-obnoxiously mean spirited and hostile bikers. Now tied down and drenched in blood, tears, and grimy dirt, the group of five men all preoccupied the dimly lit room of dust and a glowing water heater. “Please sir, could you let us go”, one of the more petrified members lied with shoulder baring a dead body against it, “…don’t you having any mercy?”. Dropping his tearful head in sadness, Harley pouted for the thin one, as another addressed the phone that the music-loving hothead left playing the 'Sound of Silence'. Giving the biker a nay to turning the dreadfully somber song off, which was like Chinese water torture, by this point, the two fanned away the coaching stench of substance production.
As Blaze and Harley spoke about the low odds that the birdman would settle down. Assured in their lack of care for these scumbags, Harley was certain in her belief that he was one of the ‘everyone deserves a chance to change’ type people. But, the greaser looked to the tearful man before blowing off his comment, “…don’t hav’ any ah that, brethren…”. However, before he could return to his conversation, the chief spoke up in contest. “…hey f@cker, I swear I’ll have ya whole family killed for this…”, still trying to squeeze loose, the resilient man grunted at the full attention he got from the lone demon. As the hothead stepped closer to him, he left his lady to the comments of the other men. “…sorry, mi don’t haf dat either-”, he coldly stated before kneeling down to the level of the seated man. “…look, mi fah-”, Ed began before being halted by the blast of a gun, thunderously echoing through the room of brick and concrete. Immediately turning his startled head, "-th' f@ck, che?" , he saw the Latina aiming her golden gun at one of the men chained to the piping.
“What? Siguió hablando de mi culo”, she explained in her smooth tongue, as a large bullet to the gut claimed the man that tried to use crude remarks on his bedroom prowess to try to convince her to let him loose. Leaving him to remain in his spot in agony, the olive woman’s cheerful attitude blew off the deed. Putting away her gun, she stared back at her mate, as the rigging ears of the group continued chiming. “Com’on, I don’t think those two are in the mood for a waitin’ game, jefe…”, she quickly stated as Blaze resumed his action, ripping him from his chair and throwing his hefty body over the greaser’s stiffly muscular shoulder.
Beginning to check up on the blast, Bela stopped once he heard the two rebels coming back to the room. “…what was that sound?”, the pale man asked for a clarification. As Blaze dropped the man with no precaution for his landing, Harley smile, “negotiation difficulties”. As the Jest looked at the leader of the gang, Blaze stood back up and looked to the two investigators. “now, mi fah tink finding whoeva did dis t’ Lucy I’ far more important than dis b@stard...”, he quickly closed his eyes when an amazing saxophone started crying for the love of whatever girl inspired the making of this song. As Bela looked down at the bearded man, riddled with tattoos and old battle scars, the leather vested man grunted and scolded. “You’re dead, you $%@#&. You and your b!#$h…”, he screamed at the greaser, who was now wholeheartedly serenading his lady with the bluesy love song, ignoring the many more insults and slurs that man yelled out at the four figures.
Bela kneeled down and quickly touched his tied-up arm, before being shot by the endless visions of many sickening acts that rested in the man's head. Much more that the average murder, that the Jest was unfortunately all-too-used-to by this point in his career, the images through the medium away in the horrid thought. "...ye're right, Ed.....he has the same memory of that night.....", Bela held his hand to his throbbing temple. With the thoughts giving him a headache, he stayed in his kneeling position before channeling a connection to his mother, the one who instilled the gene in him. Leaving the birdman to act on the situation, he began to search for clarity away from the overwhelming visions.
Ready to attack at any moment, the birdman was just patient enough to listen to Blaze's explanation. He puased, taking several slow breaths. "I can't fight him now, not when there is a bigger threat." he explained as rational thought returned. However, his master's anger still grew, more so when the pair left for the basement. 'There are no exceptions, this man is just as guilty as the men he killed! Because of him the victims are corrupt and true punishment is no more! Avatar, brand him now!'
Ghost Bird slammed his fist down on the only table that was not in cinders, splintering it under his strength. He yelled out to the voice in his mind, "You I don't know that! Everyday I am reminded of the consequences! If I am you, then let me handle this!" There was silence then a gun shot from below. His master's anger only grew, but still he whispered, 'One more chance, show him.' With that the presence was gone.
Looking up as the pair returned with with one of the heavily tattooed bikers. As Bela seached the man's mind, the birdman asked, "Do you know what happens to a soul that can't move on? Let me have this man first and I will explain."
“So, how many were there?”, the Hispanic woman looked around the room and inquired in a low fashion about the amount of beings he murdered in the clubhouse. Sitting on the drenched countertop, under the shattered lights of their surroundings, the lady held the masculine man close enough to hear her clearly. While he stood in front of her, leaning into her voice, he answered with a foggy mind, having not paid much attention to the number of bikers he killed. “…eh, maybe ten?”, the greaser muttered with little thought being put into counting the death tally, “…no more de fifteen, mi sure of…”. With a long smile stretching across her face, Harley stared into his eyes and saw his mind, while his fiery pupils looked back. A smirk on his chuckling face, he held the abdomen that lied under the holey shirt of repeated fire. “…dem sh!ts had som’ major fire power…..”, he looked down at all of the shotgun and rifle rounds that lied unsuccessfully along the floor in a mist of debris; not the mention the numerous dark spirits and beings they had hiding among them in fleshed-out disguises. As Harley played with one of the bullet holes, the pompadour-topped man chuckled into a laughter that mixed his energetic thoughts with his tickling fingers, “ya’know, dem jerks down dere ah be innocent, seen?”. His mind thought to the members that were too soft to fight and too frightened to run, instead finding themselves in a natural state of terror. Having chained them with their boss for the use of Jest’s entail, he wondered if he should release them.
“Lo se jefe”, the Latina smiled and pecked his lips with the awareness that he wouldn’t spill innocent blood, if he could avoid it. “…ya’know you’re still good to mi…even if your nature goes against it…”, she hugged Ed to assure his place as a hero in her eyes. “Besides, what is nature, but another set of rules for us rebels to break, huh?”, the giggling demon lightened the mood, leaving the two detectives to the chief.
Squirming and grunting for freedom, the huffing man stared at the two investigators. Lurking in the darkness of the nightly black-bathed area. One being as abnormally pale as the moon itself, and the other being dressed like a bird-human-thing, coupled by the two demons and all that they presented, the biker quickly assumed they were some vigilant beings. “…what are you supposed to be, one of those superhero, f@ckers?”, the man spat his loathly distasteful view of masked vigilantes, scoffing through his eyes, aimed at the birdman. With beady eyes hidden behind broken sunshades that were falling halfway off his head, the Chief tried to roll off of his right shoulder before feeling it was dislocated. Cursing and spitting appalling terms of insult, Bela eventually grew irritated and stood up. “…ye could have at him, mate…..”, the Jest passed the interrogation off onto the masked man, before stepping to the two demons.
Having a small chat over a smoke, the two looked over at Bela, as the held their grassy cig. “Ey brethren, wha gwan?”, the chuckling greaser stood up straight, to welcome the Brit to their circle of smoky solution. Joking and joyed by the grooving music, the demons simmered down from their joking mood, when they noticed the detective’s serious face. “Blaze, ye need to release the rest of those men, downstairs…”, the medium spoke after hearing the calls and pleads of the other men. After getting a confused rebuttal, the thin gentleman explained, “…the chief is aware of it all. He knows everything we need…we have no use for the others. Release them…please”. Politely finishing, the larger figure of the greaser looked into his eyes, reasoning that he was right. “Ay, boss…”, he muttered in his baritone, through a puff of smoke. Seeing the stressed lingering in the Jest’s sunken expression, “…ye want ah drag?”, he raised the white smoke up and offered the man a release from the worldly pressures that burdened them all. “No, thank you…”, Bela politely declined, knowing intoxication was never good for his condition, before Blaze stepped away to handle the basement dwellers. As Harley followed behind him, bidding a smile to hopefully cheer the investigator up, the two demons were gone by the time the Brit sat down at the bar.
Finding a half empty glass of browned liquid, he lifted the clear mug and smelled the strong aroma of scotch. Shrugging off the harsh smell, he downed the hard drink and stared into the reflection in the glass. Hearing the rain simmer down and calm, along with the hellfire that now twinkled like a bonfire over whatever trinkets of debris still happened to be burning. Bela began to chuckle in a amused fashion, as his hazel eyes glared at the image of him in the grimy mirror that still hung on the destroyed liquor shelf, behind the counter. "Geez, I'm rather becoming a bloody trope, aren't I...", he lightened his mood with a question for his shadow-soaked silhouette.
The birdman shifted his gaze to the biker's question. The modfier in his mask turned on, distorting his voice. "Me? No, I am a teacher now as well as your judge and jury." With his clawed hand and unatural strength, he hoisted the man up high with one arm. "You see, I am the one who helps the people you killed. They can't move on as long as they want revenge. It corrupts them, turns them. I give cut this connection they have with you, give them peace." The birdman lifted his free hand, the ghostly blue three pronged brand appeared on his palm. "Let me put this in a way you can understand. You are the last cigarette. My friend already had a drag, now I will, and when I am done, the man who killed your boys will finish you." Moving his palm towards the man he finished, "I am forbidden to kill scum like you, even after the brand, but he can. You have five seconds to tell everyone here anything you are hiding. I suggest you yell over the pain." The birdman grabbed the biker's head, burning the mark into his forehead. After the screams and sizzling sounds, the Ghost Bird threw the man to Blaze's feet.
"This is my mission, if there are anymore scum here give them to me. Afterwards, do whatever you want with them."
Finishing his drink, the detective saw the biker being slung across the room, through the rearview of the mirror. Darting around to hear the man slam against the floor before the two demons, the branded chief lied in agony. “What th—what did you do to me?”, the bearded man exhaled a trembling breath, as Bela stood up and examined the incident, seeing that his partner was taking the ‘bad cop’ role. As the pained man yelled in a fit of suffrage, Blaze smiled at the hard tactic and placed his burning boot onto the man’s stomach to force his babbling back onto the point. “…bring up ti rest o’ ti baddies, ché…..”, the hotrod asked his lady, who skipped on into the back and down to the basement. Knowing they could possibly know something, the demon was leaning towards keeping them longs, rather than letting them go so easily. “AAH, alright alright…..what do you want to know”, the terrified man cried as the boot sole steamed through his shirt and into his chest with slow-boiling pressure. With the approach of the Brit, kneeling before the now broken biker, Bela pulled out the girl’s wallet while thinking about the trafficking.
“…a few hours ago, mi client and her friend had an unpleasant encounter with yer fellas…”, Bela spoke clearly, as he held the ID photo of the poor girl. As the biker gripped at any bit of air, before the greaser’s blackish-blue suede boot pressed the air back out of his lungs. Immediately continuing, the investigator took advantage of the panicking fear that left the man in a state of force surrender. “…she was bitten and left to die, while her friend was taken…..who did it, and what is yer business with them?”, he asked as the man clumsily took a few moments to think of a lie. But, before he could spit on out, he yelped under the flame that rose from the boot. Irritated in the wait that the biker made, Ed wanted to hurry this up, figuring a good deal of what the bloke was doing. “AAHH!...STOP, ok ok, alright…..”, her screamed high in pitch, as his chest burned from a sting into a deep burning flesh wound, “-he came to us, to get some girls…”. As the fire dimmed down with the raging demon’s calmness, Bela listened closely, “Who came?”, the Jest demanded more of a clarification of the man, wondering if it was Crest. “I don’t know…h-he, he never gave a name…..I-I was told to call his the ar…‘Architect’…!”, the man stuttered through the intense pain of the boot pressing against a now third degree burn. As the Latina returned with the four other men, scared and trembling, they were all in terror of the horrific scene.
Some now crying, while others stayed silent with bayed emotions, the bikers were ordered to sit on the floor by the trigger-happy lady in pigtails. Watching their leader being tortured, the group subdued and surrendered to the situation at hand, as Bela continued the interrogation. “…what did he look like?”, he asked for a description, having knowledge of what Crest’s appearance was. “…he, he average size, with glasses…those John Lennon glasses. He had a bowler hat and curly brown hair…but, he dressed like, like…one of the British chap-like guys, with the suit, and cane, funny shoes and all”, the Chief yelled in a want to be let go. Think to the image, Bela looked to the birdman with thoughtful mind, “…it kind of sounds like Crest, but, I’m no-”.
“Crest?”, one of the whimpering man interrupted the Jest with a memory. “I heard one of the men speak of a ‘Crest’…”, the lad’s shifty eyes darted to the figures holding the gang. As Harley yanked the thin man to his feet, Bela asked him to continue illuminating them with his memory. “uh, when Sid brought them to the bunker, for the pick, one of the guys was saying that the Architect was finally going to awaken Crest. And something about taking all he had and prove that he was the one true heir to the kingdom…..”, the boy looked at Bela with sincere eyes of fright. “I swear, I telling the truth…”, the man watched as the detective stood before him, asking him to calm himself down. “Are ye certain that’s what they said…”, the grimly gentleman looked into the man’s eyes, thinking to what such information could mean. Placing his hand on the man’s hand, Bela say into his memories of the instance, “…I swear it is…I thought it was just some weird cult sh!t…..like that ‘Helter Skelter’ crap…but-”. The Jest was deep with the lad’s head, seeing the truth, before resurfacing in his own mind. Parting from him, he looked to chief with urgency, “Where this bunker and what is it for?”. The greaser quickly grabbed the boss by his bearded neck and lifted him off the ground before slamming him into a wall. “Ah…I, in the back…it-it’s where we hold ‘em……we took him there to see which girls he wanted. But, he said he wanted foreign girls…”, the man coiled in agony as Ed’s steaming hands cooked his facial hair.
Bela wondered what was really behind this, if Crest was just a gear in this machine. Stepping back to think, he left the floor open to the birdman's input on things, as he pieced together the information he was given. While it was a given that this ‘kingdom’ was the demonic one of Morphisto’s, who was this Architect, and what did he have to take from the dead villain of his father’s. And, who were these ‘others’; Bela stood in silence for a bit, as the demons kept the bikers under control by gunpoint.
If the information was true, then the birdman figured this Architect was making a power play. It was somewhat refreshing to him, even the supernatural acted like petty humans from time to time. Looking to the rest of the captive bikers, Ghost Bird readied himself for his grim task.
Pointing to their chief, he explained with the authority of his position, "That mark on him, it is not only for show. The day he dies, his soul will be sent to an endless desert of dust. Foever will he roam, no salvation, no hope."
The birdman formed the brand on his hand again, "This is the fate of the wicked who cross me. If you are truely innocent in all this, then the brand will not work." He moved closer to the group, empty of emotion. "There is no bargains, no mercy, just prayer. Pray that you will delay the inevitable with a long life." With those words, the birdman went to work.
As the birdman stepped down the line, placing his branding hand on all four of the men, one by one, the group watched with anticipation. As the greaser burned the leader’s beard off, into a smoky sizzle, the Latina grinned deeply. Amusing herself with the thought of a state of wandering, it reminded her of a book she read earlier. Deaf, dumb, and blind, it might not have been comparable, but it was a nice thought to fill her head with as she gripped her pistol. Lifting and aiming it against the heads of the men, as the brand passed over them, Harley lied her head upon the rear of their skull. Bringing dread to their heads, the men’s hearts skipped a beat as the cold steel pressed them against the glowing hand. Hoping they’d survive, the thinnest of the four watched as the first was in fact innocent. The second biker yelled under the hand. Standing on the right side of the lad who helped them, the man was burned and left with the dooming mark. As the men stared in horror of what that meant, the man himself was frozen in a stinging trauma.
But, before he could resonate the thought of what’d happen after his death, his mind was cut short by the clicking of the triggers. And with a flash of light, the man’s forehead craned open with blood and lead. As the men to the sides of him near dropped from the spine-tingling sound of exploding brain matter, the birdman had continued on to the weakened kneed lad. Shaking her head in a satisfied gaze, Harley turned her attention from the dead man, she saw no mark on the thin boy. “eres afortunado...”, she whispered as she hopped back behind the next/last fella. Frozen in thought, the hand lied against his contemplating head and began to burn him much to the same.
Screaming in agony and skin-crawling pain, the biker fell to his jeaned knees with a deep scar on his face. However, before the girl could return her pistol to his head for the finishing blow, he acted quickly and ran. “Maldita rata!”, the Latina spat in vivacious anger, as the branded biker sprinted faster than her. But, with the greaser watching over the event, he saw the man’s fleeing action, and quickly whistled for his wolf. Being right outside the bar, the canine found its way between the weaseling man and freedom. Causing the panting figure to stumble into a stop, in instinctual fright of the growling dog, it gave the lady enough time to catch him. Discarding her weapon, the energetic woman pounced like a cat, onto the back of the unassuming biker. With a mouth as wide as it needed to be, two fangs grew a full inch in length. And in an unnatural instance, Harley dug into the neck of the man. As blood splattered before a deadly scream, the demon ripped and tore at the weasel’s flesh, like a savage animal, chewing through to the bone. Driving him into shock, he bled out with a dry exhale of breath and tearful slobber, before she finished.
As the detective returned his attention to the bunker, asking the chief to show it to him, the leader slumped to the floor after Blaze released him. “Fine, fine…just get me out of here”, the man’s eyes were fixed on the gory scene that used to be his clubhouse. As Bela pulled him back up to his feet, gripping the back of his jackets, the biker spoke through the stinging pain. “…the bunker is just a couple blocks from here, around the corner. Just through the back alley…”, he whimpered into the back hallway, as the Jest walked behind him. Heading to check the holding building for any clues, Bela spoke up to the group. “I’m going to check this bunker for any hints as to where they might have headed after coming here…..”, he looked to the birdman and the demons, in case they were coming along.
“…well, we’ll be here, cleaning off”, the lady announced with blood oozing from her mouth and down her shirt, she looked at her companion while catching his jacket. Seeing the holey shirt of blood and guts drenched upon it, the masculine demon stripped his ruined top as he walked towards the front door. “…yea, wi fah see ye when ye get bak…”, Blaze spoke through his cig, while heading to the extra clothing he had in his trunk. “Unless ye still need wi?”, the sturdy greaser looked to the detectives, not fully putting it past the biker leader to have backup hiding through the industrial city streets. As the two remaining bikers stood before the birdman, the Jest quickly checked his own supply of ammo and weaponry. “…I’ll be fine…”, the pale thought about a potential trap, before deciding to get back to his own vehicle. “Sure tink, boss…”, the Caribbean hotrod shrugged off as he stepped away in his regular swagger. Walking past his soaked lady, the two demons left for their vehicle, leaving the room to its own demise as Bela pulled the chief towards the front door. Looking to his partner, he saw that they had no use for the other two men, "Are ye done here?".
One by one, the birdman branded the mark into the captives. The only one the mark spared was the thin boy, much to Joseph's relief. As Harley executed the guilty and Bela questioned the leader, Ghost Bird knelt before the boy. He spoke, "Take this to heart, you have been found innocent. However, if you choose to continue associating with scum, that will change."
The birdman rose to his feet and faced the detective, "let's go."
As the young lad exited out of the bar, dripping with his sweat and friend’s blood, the street was paved in the same slick darkness that the detective shuffled through to his vehicle. As black scene bathed under the moonlight of the dimly lit sky, the pale glow radiated the brick road’s wet cover of watery dew with a break between the easing rains. Leading Bela with its guiding glare off of his car’s cold metal, the Jest motioned past the two rebels, standing trunk-side in the middle of the street. Since the hellfire had melted the mortal steel of the choppers, the Black Beauty parked in the damp remains. “Ay brethren…wi fah see ye after yuh fi done…”, the taller demon informed the investigator, as he stood in his tapered snake-skinned jeans. Holding his new black top, the shirtless greaser was accompanied by his now-fully clothed lady. “Si Bela, we’ll see tou at the office…”, Harley stated with a smile, before using her mate’s holey shirt to whip her face clean of the blood.
“Very well…just stay out of anymore trouble, please…”, Bela asked of the two, not wanting to see them at the end of anymore bloodbathes. Finishing up with her face, the Latina smiled and hopped in joy, “Sí señor, seremos buenos niños a partir de ahora ... prometemos”, she snickered in a tone that was half sincere and half mocking, as her expression and posture resembled a small child apologizing after being scolded, before she skipped to the car door with laughter. “Don’t worry, brethren…wi fah just head ti de beach, fi ah little bit…cool off an den, wi fi be bak at ye place, ah’right?”, Blaze spoke in a smilingly serious tone, avoiding the chance of getting the detectives’ patient pants in a bunch. As the Beauty hummed with 50s Doo-Wop rhythms and crooning vocals, the hotrod looked to the startled boy, standing with his former club’s doorway. After whistling for his wolf to get in the car, Ed addressed the lonely lad. “Yo! Ye fah need ah ride, lad?”, he muttered in his low tone. Getting nothing but wide eyes in reply, the greaser rose a brow in the awkward silence, until Harley craned her head out of the passenger window. “…want a pop?”, she tossed him a soda bottle, in thought of it potentially helping him. Catching the drink, the two knew the boy was too scared to ride with them. So, with a nice big smile of comfort, Harley pulled her head back into the vehicle and Blaze lit his grassy cig before doing the same.
And, as the roaring muscle car shined it's hellishly red headlights into the destruction before it, the car backs up with swiftness and speed. Turning correctly onto the street with a bit of a drift and skid of the tires, from the wet pavement, the Latina happily waved bye to the two detectives as Blaze muttered from his teeth, which bit down on a slim smoke. “Stay strong in Jah, ti most high an almighty…”, he turned down the soothing radio so they could clearly hear his words of good fortune, pouring out ironically from his demonic lips. And with that being said, the Beauty ripped into the black night of the misty city. Leaving the two to their business, Bela opened the back seat for the chief, before getting in his own seat. Starting up the purring engine, the detective pulled off once the birdman was in the car. Led by the directions of the bruised biker, the car eventually found the bunker in the gloomy industrial streets of thick smog and stretching shadows.
A building that was more like a factory storage than the type of bunker that Bela had in mind, the grey structure constructed in sheet metal stood in the cold night. As the vehicle pulled to the side of the wet road, the Jest turned the car off and stared at the hefty building. “…this is it”, the broken biker muttered in shame, knowing what would be found inside. With a move from the cabin, Bela walked across the street with a stern grip on the man. While his other hand gripped his flashlight, they stood before the locked door on the bunker’s side alleyway. As a thick cloud of steam poured out of the many vents that inhabited the area. Creating nearly unnoticeable environment of white fog, the detective became very wary of the circumstances that the two men were faced with. Wondering his the birdman felt equally as suspicious, the pale figure couldn’t pull back in thought, as the chief was already opening the door. The dark abyss of the huge open space was homing a sight that quickly hunted the vision of the medium. Trapped in large cages of iron and steel were people of grief and torment. Stolen from their lives, an unknown number of individuals sat within the dark side of hopelessness. Driving the horrible thoughts of their pain and fear through his mind, Bela stood inside the bunker, too full of thought to notice the chief making a quick move. And with the branded man falling to the ground, a gunshot blasted from within the silence of the blackness. Carrying a bombastic sound of shock, the distressed mind of the Jest emptied with the rushing feeling of a rifle bullet tearing through his shoulder.
Being thrown back like a towel, the stumbling detective gasped in the jolt of his ill nerves, as he hit the steam dirt outside of the bunker. Hearing bullets begin to riddle in the fog, and the thunderous ripple of motorcycles roaring in the distance, the blood lad rolled into the shadowy corner under a building’s side, heaving in pain. While the chief ran deeper into the bunker, a group of bikers surround the alley from all sides, even taking a stance on the roof. Bouncing into brick and metal alike, the bullets caused a rattling vibration of terror, brought on by numerous semi-automatics and shotgun blast, bringing Bela into a heavy state of mental stress. As dozens of bikers moved through the streets, aiming into the clouded alley, four took the roof overhead and three stood within the opposite end of the side path.
Ghost Bird took the drive to think about the innocent lad at the bar. He probably would choose his friends more carefully from now on, but the trauma he endured would be with him from now on. 'You did well Avatar, do not let the boy make you doubt that.' His master whispered. The birdman grunted as they arrived.
Even though the chief was now leading them, the birdman began to feel the telltale signs of a trap. He looked around the alleyway. It was to enclosed they would be at a disadvantage here. The doors opened to the abyss beyond. Somthing was wrong, it was too dark in there for guards to see. Suddenly the chief fell to the ground as gunshots erupted. Bullets soon flew from all directions, they were surrounded.
Ghost Bird winced as a few bullets hit him, where he could not tell. Bela was also hit, but he soon moved towards cover. The birdman reached into his belt and dropped another smoke bomb. As the cover was created he laid face first on the ground. Once the smoke cleared he would pretend to be dead and lure the men close.
Breathing heavily under mind-numbing gunshot rounds, the detective began to cough up blood. Hearing nothing but exploding bullets, the wounded fella crawled for a better, more comfortable position under the wall. As his breaths grew more erratic and painful, he gritted his teeth under the clinging pulse of his overwhelmed heart. Spewing blood from his icy lips, the fog-covered lad closed the agony into him. In silence, he heard the closing gunmen, and saw the rising cloud of smoke. Needing to remain quiet, Bela couldn’t fight the rapidly growing urge clawing at him. As his faintly breathy quiver became lowly pants and survival, he balled up in a suffering boil of chilling sweats and heated body temperature. Zoning out of the gunfire and solitary footsteps of the men, his ears thumped with the pulsing beat of his own weakened heart. Pumping and expanding, trucking through the looming severity of the wound, Bela’s eyes shot open in shock.
“Are they dead?”, one of the men muttered in a husky voice, stepping behind two other men. They three headed down the alleyway with pointed muzzles, piercing their average eyesight into the thick misty white. “I don’t know…”, the closest biker grunted back as he baited the steps of a forwards pursuit. “Well, go on, check!”, the questioning gunman edged his partner on, in a posture not too positive in wanting to go himself, he pushed on. As the two more men stepped from the opposite end, they were far more relaxed in search. Unknown in either of the two men’s presence, they fired a few machinegun rounds into the floor, checking for a reaction. However, in a moment of the fading bullet echo, the men noticed the low breaths in the fog. More like a faint growl in the night, they all turned to the choking man lying in the corner. “What the hell?!”, one of the men aimed a flashlight into the region that produced an unearthly moan of pain. Immediately seeing a hand spring up against the brick wall, Bela pulled himself up to his trembling feet in an attempt to get away. Trying so hard to hold it back, it ripped at his insides, “Please! Go…run, RU-”.
With his second hand grabbing the wall as well, he coughed up blood and dragged himself off of the ground and out of the foggy layer of mist. “What the hell?!”, one of the men muttered as all of their guns loosely aimed at the sight of which they couldn’t believe was happening. Clinging to the cold brick surface, the Jest rose his head up to the moon, in a gasp of crippling air, he screamed into the air. “AAAHHHHH!!!”, he cried out in a bursting beat of his heart. Pressing his back against the wall’s foundation, his tattered black clothing hung as he rose up to a few feet above their heads. Pulling all of the bikers attentions to his whimpering pleas in Latin, Bela prayed for an end, as his right hand coiled and gripped at his chest. Ripping at his undershirt, he tore it open before his jerking body rolled inhumanly along the vertical floor. Still yelling, he saw the roof-topped gunmen, gazing down at him in awe. “Run…PLEAS-”, he begged of the men in the last few breaths of his own control. Falling into the state that he dreaded the most, Bela unfortunately couldn’t move for solitude quick enough. With wide eyes of eerie green energy pouring from them, bearing the slitted pupils of a snake, his bloody mouth spat out another unearthly halting cry, while kicking and screaming in throbbing pain. Shooting across the entire region of the city, the scream nearly overshot the thunderous boom that rattled the heavens with the resuming storm. Ripping at the detectives insides, his erratic hands ripped and tore at his chillingly pale skin like he did his clothing. Turning back onto his back, his next cry ended in a deep howl of primal awakening.
In a new state of being, the deepest fringes of the man’s mind was now open to the world. Sharpened teeth and sweating nose, his face cracked with the shattering sound of his broken skull. Load enough to send tingles down the bikers’ startled spine, Bela’s face protruded into that of an animal muzzle. Slobbering and growling with the might threw the men into a bit of a panic, they backed away from the being. As it dug out of the passively timid detective, the aggressively ferocious beast’s revealed its furred muscle. Breaking out in a fury, the creature howled again into the lightning rippling sky. Fully present and in command, the thing roared back at the heavens, as if to threaten the elements for the booming attack on its ears. “…kill that thing!”, one of the men built up enough courage to pull out of his awful state and fire his shotgun into the torso of the furred animal. Knocking the beast back into the wall with the force of the blast, the beast pierced down and snarled before leaping off of the wall and onto the ground. Landing on the man who fired at him, the rest of the gunmen started unloading on the creature.
Savage in nature, the beast bit down on the biker and finished him before looking for the group that stood across from him. Snarling like a rabid wolf, it delivered a deep roar. Standing between seven and eight feet tall while crouching, with an extremely muscular figure of ravishing fury, the jet black being unshielded its dagger-like teeth of soaked terror. Much like a jungle cat, the werebeast glared at the men like an apex predator. Aiming to rid the treat that plagued the safety of its weaker self, the Savage quickly pounced in an instance. Launching himself into two of the bikers with the same force of a flying minivan, the creature dug its huge claws into them both before being met with a ton of gunfire.
Leaping high into the air, it fled to the rooftop of the bunker, leaving the three dead bodies in its wake. As the air grew cold and the mist grew smelly with a dangerous mix of fear and blood, the rest of the men stood in a panicky fright, staring up at the rooftop. As rain fell upon their faces, and lightning flickered through the air, the howls of the Savage continued once more. "Screw this!”, one of the men exclaimed, as did a couple others, assured that they were no match for whatever that was. While many stood and aimed their guns up at the sky, the night became ever so dark and gloomy.
Ghost Bird laid still as the grave. If there was one lesson he took to heart during his training, it was the art of deception. He knew how to play his part, whether it be a birdman, or a dead man. However, no amount of training could account for unknown variables and this was one of those.
Hearing the growls and pleading of Bela, the birdman rose without realizing. He became transfixed on the detective as fear took hold. Of course, he always had fear. Any man with a family experienced it. Normally he had no trouble powering through it, but this was something else.
Bela had become something akin to a werewolf, a beast Ghost Bird had never seen. He watched as the detective killed three of the bikers. It was strong, fast, and ferocious. Looking to the gunmen he yelled, "Run you fools!"
Drawing his daggers, the birdman let loose another ghostly cry from the device in his mask. He needed to get Bela's attention no matter how scared he was. This man, this soul needed to be saved.
Snarling saliva and foam, the raged beast stood on top of the building in a fit of anger. Like a protective mother bear, the Savage roared back heated threats into the flickering air. As thunder boomed with the very intensity to startle a normal man, the creature matched it with a passion fueled by the shocking fear that the element sent up the Jest’s spine. With heated eyes placed on the repeated flicker of lightning strikes, stretching chaotically through the sky like veins in a pulsing body, the black furred being reacted with razor claws and bellowing sounds of aggravation. With pultruding gums and drooling bare teeth, a rumbling low bark and snarl erupted out as the being. Urged by the pent up fear and anger, accumulating into an unnerving stress that overwhelmed the detective, the buried figure was not a machine of pure energy and might. While the water dripped and poured upon his maned coat, sliding off his thick hair, the Savage howled as adrenaline thumped through his muscular body. Driving him through the bullet wounds he had, the figure healed from the shots, as his flesh shoved away the led that was lodged within him. Reeling from the piercing pain that the bikers inflicted on the Jest, the brute yelled as if he was a child throwing a tantrum.
Roaring with exposed gums and clinched fist, the angered beast continued on until the rain fell into the silence of pitter-patter and harsh winds. Calming to nature, the beast growls fell into a slow groan of near-confusion. Panting and looking around the slickly wet rooftop, as it to look for more danger to ward off with its animalistic might, the Savage stood slowly with bayed state of relaxation. As water fell upon it, standing high on the rooftop of solitude, the predator had nothing to combat. Leading to an empty stare across his surroundings, he began to calm and sober his mind down. Straightening his posture from a raging beast into his gentlemanly counterpart, staggering a bit from the unnatural feeling of relaxation, the Savage’s somber ears sparked upward with an intruding presence. Hearing the sound of a skidding tire in the distance, the bruting creature whipped its head around to see a cherry red car fleeing into the city. With a supernaturally deep sense of smell, the Savage knew it was the man that shot his weaker human side.
Trying to get the chief as far away as possible, the car was followed by a few cycles, guarding from behind. Filling the monster with rage, as it found a target, the Savage choked on its own snarling breaths before leaping off the ground. Launching itself high into the air, the hovering creature dropped towards the car. Landing on a chopper, it crushed the motorcycle while charging behind the car on all fours. Pouncing onto the vehicle, the swerving automobile tried to shake the beast. But, in a haze of loose controls, it toppled under the weight of the creature, clawing at the roof like it was paper. And in that instance, the car rolled and crashed into one of the closed down industrial buildings that stood at the edge of the street.
As a few bikers stood awaiting the fate of their leader, the factory lied in darkness, with nothing but an unearthly roar shaking the sheet metal. As the men backed away and moved to spots across the road, the beast was inside staring into the black abyssal interior, looking for the two men with the bloodlusted eyes of a shark. Sniffing and scowling at the blackness, as his eyes adapted to the night vision needed to see clearly, its ears listened for any sound to throw it into a fit. Looming through the corridors, the angered beast searched for the two men that harmed the Jest. Beating at the ground with each step, the men crawled under machines and vent ways, quietly moving away from the hunting predator. Hearing it growling and panting, while each breath felt as if it was on their necks, the men froze whenever they heard the creature moving closer to them. As sparks faintly riddled the building's quiet inside, from the wrecked machinery resulted in the crash, they heard rainfall and saw mist clouding their vision. However, they could still unfortunately see the huge feet of the beast. Sharp and stiff in its pounding steps, they were strong enough to crack the tile and dent the metal floor, yet light enough to swiftly move about.
Cursing the loud roars of the beast, the birdman now knew sound would not get his attention. He watched as Bela began his search inside the dark building. Ghost Bird quickly realized what he was after. Grabbing the throwing knives from his belt he entered. He did not care about the chief's safety, he was already marked. However, the beast Bela had become was to unpredictable to let roam. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, the birdman caught a glimpse of the creature. Letting his throwing blades loose, he aimed for non vital areas, legs, arms, etc. Four from each hand sailed towards their target, like metal feathers. Ghost Bird needed to get Bela's attention.
Whimpering under inside of a vent way, the two men could smell the heat spraying through the metal air-ports, as the beast smelled them. Clear and thorough in its black nose, the Savage kneeled before the square sheet cover. Beginning to growl, building up in the rage of assurance in their location, the beast stood up as they scooted as far as they could from the threshold. But, in a clinch of their breath, they were shaken by the thunderous bump and thump of the werebeast viciously ramming into the wall. Cracking the surface with strength and fury, the barking creature started slinging its hands with serious fury. Slicing and dicing at the stiff grey cement, the Savage ripped through a large portion of the solid mass, before digging into the vent. As the two men smelled the bloody flesh and wild energy, pouring the danger of savagery into the air vent, the beast suddenly stopped once it heard another presence.
Pulling out of the cloudy hole, the creature stretched his figure and turned to see the birdman. However, before he could react in a warning roar of aggression, he was hit with a series of knives. Moving through the dark abyss of blackness with too much speed to register light, they slicing at the Savage’s thick fur. Cutting through his fur, most of them cut into his sturdy limbs of primal muscle. Driving a hit to his nerves, the angered beast fumed with bloody eyes, seeing a full sight of the man who attacked him. Like a threat to his survival, the Savage launched himself with the same ferocity as he did earlier. With the minivan-level power of tour through the dark corridor like a wave of teeth and brute strength. Soaring through the middle of the hall in a sprinting run of intensity, pushing through the cuts and stabs with adrenaline, the monster changed the birdman with intentions on ripping the figure to shreds with his dagger claws of black razor edges.
Drawing his daggers, the birdman readied himself for the beast. He side stepped from Bela's charge, slicing at the beast as he moved by. His body cried in protest, the bullet wounds throbbing as he moved. "That's it let it out, we need you calm detective." he said, ignoring the pain. Bending at the legs, Ghost Bird prepared to jump over the next attack. However, he had slowed down some, the beast would have an easier time catching him.
Speeding up to the man, the humongous beast pushed through the hall with his blood red eyes in anger. Fuming with the anxious responding of his animalistic instincts, the furry being felt the daggering wound open under its hair, as it pulled to a stop. Stumbling in the halt of such speed, the monster turned on his heels with his hands upon the wall for balance. Holding himself up on his pulsing feet of muscle and bone, feeling the stinging burn of the knifing attack in all of its ferocity. Hitting the being like salt to the tongue, the predator’s blood boiled with the natural growth of his adrenaline. Rising more from the red crimson that ran down the black of his coat, his fight-or-flight response geared evermore towards ‘fight’. A strong fight that urged for life, the beast lifted his left arm and hissed in a heap breath of power.
Craning his looming palm of dark fate, it dragged through the air, bringing great pulsing strength with it. Enforced by the gravity of nature, the lively brute brought its hand down with enough might to ramming through the wall to his arm lied too close to. Shredding through it with all of his savagery, the beastly hand created rubble in its speed wake, driving the swiping palm through the surface of the solid structure and onto the direction of the birdman. As debris flew everywhere in result, spraying out into the shadowy air of darkness, the slapping hand hurled with the armored man’s shoulder in its path. Determined to rid himself of this threat, the creature placed all of its natural might and instinctual anger into the blow that would ultimately floor a normal man. Nevertheless digging into them with the five knifing nails that honed in for an attempted at tearing into the being that stood between him and safety, the animal fought back in aggravation. Boiling with furious anger, the beast intended to make sure these threats were eliminated, for the betterment of its instinctual survival.
Thankfully the armor took most of the blunt parts of the debris. However, the wolfman's strike hit the birdman's shoulder causing pain to his previous bullet wound. The blow forced him off his feet and one of the daggers from his hand. Landing hard, he skidded across the floor a for several feet. Quickly getting up, he weighed his options' 'Armor is dented, weapon gone, need to stop him.' Tearing the piece off to releave the pressure, the cloak of the birdman came undone. Picking it up he charged towards the beast and at the last moment jumped. His plan was to rodeo the beast and choke him with the cape. Not enough to kill, but to knock out.
Seeing his foe drop to the floor, after the blow to his armour, the beast savagely followed up with an immediate second strike. As the birdmen slid off of the spot that he fell to, the second attack crashed into the floor with commanding intensity, knocking a chunk of the ground up. While cement and tile blew apart and across the floor, the aggressively defensive creature’s head darted around in longing sight of its enemy. Snarling and barking in a low tone of hellish-sounding pants, the moist mouthed being wanted to rid himself of these men, before they harmed his master. Growling with enough anger to rattle the walls of the hallway, the predator watched the standing man with piercing eyes. Backing into a defensive stance, anticipating the man’s next move, it breathed heavily and aggressively. Snapping ever-so-often with enough force to break a light-post in two, as if to warn the smaller being of what would come to him, the beast updated its knowledge of the steady man. Pressed against the wall quiet literally, and pumping with the same instinctual ‘fight or flight’ serge tugging at the Jest’s stomach, the werebeast stood still with no intentions on fleeing.
As the birdman lunged forward, the agile leap of acrobatic speed, the beast roared into a charge forward. Aiming to catch the masked man in its sharp clutches, the birdman soared up and over the beast, landing on the thick mane of his muscular back. As the creature felt the man grab control of his neck with the cloak, and mount him in a sturdy position, the savage began to buck and spin with aggression. Getting the man fighting spirit of instinctual rebellion against the taking of his throat, he gasped as the man pulled back and began strangling him. Causing the howling beast to pull back in a desperate attempt for air, the monster fought for survival. With Bela’s sleeping conscious lingering in the beastly head of bloodlusted struggle, the Savage screamed and hissed in opposition. With the sound equivalent to a motor, the beast drummed from its throat with intensity. Doing whatever it could to not die, the werebeast swung its arms and charged into the walls in hopes of a chaotic ride throwing the birdman.
As his hefty hair stood up in reaction to the pulsing blood and choking windpipe of his body, the slobbering beast fell to his knees in suffocation. Failing to stop the attack, the beast began to close its eyes in the darkness of unconsciousness. Slowly lowering in an icy fade in breath, the beast continued to hiss and echo aggression from its throat, as the massive body radiated intense body heat, the large creature felt his hormones thump in fear of their death. Thinking to its master, the beast trembled back onto its feet and throbbed with adrenaline and fearful anger. Doing whatever it could to fight back, it grew angrier and more furious, throwing its forearm through the wall. Crying out in a fiery attitude, the savage leaped for the high ground, throwing its arms up and through the roof of the hall. Steading through the flooring of the level above them, the beast ripped up and into the second floor. However, too chaotic to climb up, the animal accidentally tore down the floor, and came crashing back down to the previous hallway.
Hitting the floor in a desperate struggle, the scrabbling beast drove itself up and through another wall. Completely shattering the concrete walls, sending rocky debris everywhere, the creature began to roar again. With passion for survival, the beast’s roars were that of force, howling out the frightening sounds of testosterone and bloodlusted anger, his screams sounds like ones of prehistoric proportions. As the sound rattled the solid walls and shattered the glass light-fixtures, causing the hall to bust into darkness as the bulbs busted, each howling roar rattled the building like a wave of thunder to the heavens. As his feet snapped and cracked at the tile, digging into a foundation, while his shoulders throbbed with the adrenaline that surged through him, the Savage Reared back his head and roared more intensely, attempting to expand his body with each powerful howl. Echoing the intensity of a T-Rex in ferocity, the predator’s neck pushed and tightened with each forceful roar. Tightening like the might of a mother bear, protecting her young, the monster refused to die. Still choking under the birdman’s powerful tug, it deeply howled out with an attempt at expanding the size of its body ina unearthly rebuttal.
Digging his heels in, the Ghost Bird held strong as the beast bucked and reared. Broken stone and runbble threatened to loose his grip, but still he held firm. As if rewarded for his persistence, he began to feel the beast falter. "Good, it will end soon." the birdman tried to reassure his partner. However, the reward was short lived as the creature gained a second win. He tried to tighten his hold, but the expanding throat only served to further rip the cloak. With an audible tear, the birdman fell back and hit the ground hard.
'What will you do avatar?' The voice of his master whispered as the birdman stumbled to his feet. 'Brute force had failed, fear will not work, so what will you do?' The Ghost Bird looked at what Bela had become through his tiered breaths. He threw his dagger to the ground with a clatter. "Alright, no more fighting. I won't hurt you Bela, I need you to calm down." He stood waiting for the onslaught. At the very least, the beast can let out its agression on him alone.
Feeling the man fall off of his back, the raging monster broadened his figure in a mighty stance of power and reared back his muscular jaw. Roaring deep into the tattered ceiling, the werebeast screamed out a wave of anger and ferocity, rattling the foundations of the walls. Radiating adrenaline and testosterone, the black being’s skin almost pulsed with the glowing energy of his large body. Ripped and tightly constructed of muscle, his natty fur covered and tented most of the hard figure as the radiation of his mutation pumped aggressive power though him. Causing his scream to send a forceful wave of energy through the hall, as more of the roof rained down sporadically in reaction, the beast held it for all of the heavens to hear. Belting out a deep boom of sound, it shook out the two men, who crawled farther into the vent, to get away.
However, immediately snapping the predator out of the roar, as he finished the furious long call of strength with a howl. Chaotic and hungry, he remembered the man that shot the Jest in a cold instance of fatality. Trying to kill the thin-framed detective, the gunman had no mercy in his attack, and the thought of it drove an instant passion of blood into the mind of the beast. As the poor pale figure lied dormant in the wake of his ravishing body of overwhelmingly instinctual animalistic habits of survival, the being quickly thought to ridding the creature that harmed its master so. Dropping to the floor in an animalistic lunged forward into the hall, the Savage hit the solid wall of cement and metal with the speed of a car. Tearing through the structure like a rush bus, the beast growled with intensity and vivid passion for blood. Like an explosion in the factory, the creature left a gap bulling through the thick construct of concrete, as he viciously ripped through the barriers that shield him from them. Grabbing and lifting the one who wreaked of the dreaded shock, the beast smashed through the rest of the wall, ending up in a back alley. Outside of the building, holding the tattered clothing in his knifing claws, the Savage wasted no time before biting down on the man’s head.
Truly beastly, his entire mouth gripped down and twist the scream temple of brain matter, before pulling it off in a quick yank of might. As water fell in a numbing pattern of thick nightly rainfall, the dim lights didn’t reach the werebeast that stood deep into the alley. While the head dropped into a blood-drenched puddle of cold water, rolling along the chilly brick floor, the creature sniffed the now-limp body for any remanence of life. As if it was a hound smelling a hunter’s kill, or a small dog catching a sniffing look into the unfamiliarity of once-active toy, the humanoid monster grabbed the corpus’ arm. Lift and letting it fall for a glaring watch for lively reaction, the energetic being panted a few times before he tossed the headless figure against a dumpster with a posture baiting at any movement. Barking a couple times out of an attempt to scare a reaction, the Savage roared in aggression, until it realized the being was finagling dead. Feeling a relieving stress off of its heavy load, the aggressive beast reared its head up to the sky in snapping pleasure of mighty strength and signaled an alerting threat to any others.
Long and deep, the lightning flickered and flashed as thunder followed in a failed attempt to shake the figure. Its howl was rattling to the bones of the biker chief, who still lied under rubble and dust. Choking on the fear of being found, his ears throbbed and pierced from the sound of the beast. But, before the creature could finish his call to nature, he heard a fluttering arrival. Dragging his attention to the hovering presence of a pitch black figure. Floating under the flapping of broad feathered wings, matching their large humanoid, the creature lingered under the pale light of the moon, which faintly lit it. And with blazing red eye of glowing orbs, the stocky being had stiffly thin clawed limbs and a stubby body that outsized the normal man. Appearing to be looming in watch of the werebeast, the bruting Savage did not appreciate their unnerving presence around him. As he heard another more bat-like being landing on a roof farther into the alley, they both stared at him in silence. In the fading call of the fleeing bikers, the hovering being looked like a cryptid mothman, and it nonchalantly basked in the angry ferocity of the savage werebeast’s roaring intimidations. Not making a flinch in movement, the beast roared up to it with hissing growls before noticing the diving bat-creature.
With a broad wingspan, the husky being looked like a monstrous hybrid between a huge bat and a chimpanzee. Ramming in the werebeast, the first bat-like beast followed behind it and helped attack the Savage. And as they both ambushed the black beast, the Mothman stayed still with watching eyes, as if it was sent to catch the beast that live within the Jest. But, as it stared at the action, seeing the two bats clawing and punching at the animalistic creature, they fought with equal strength and savagery to his own. Throwing and dragging the overwhelmed being around the tunneling backalley of brick and concrete, they sent the struggling creature craning and crashing through walls and poles.
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Inside of the factory
The ground began to rock with the sound of a series of nibbling drills, as the darkness held the building tightly. Giving way to round holes of blackness, a gang of terrorizing frights dug up and out of the tunneling holes. Brown with rocky skin and sharp claws, they pulled their way out and onto the main floor of the hallway. Looking to the birdman with the cocooned eyes of spiraling grooves, they faces were alien to any known creature of earth. Thick and somewhat green in tint, they were covered in rock and dirt, as if they lived underground for many years. And, clicking from vertical slits in their face, they began moving for masked man with slow sturdiness. Coated by rock and lizard-ish skin, the four Mole people pursued the man in unnerving presence.
Feeling the boom of his opponent's voice, the birdman could do little but move away from the falling debris. When the distractions cleared shortly after, Ghost Bird soon realized Bela had bolted down the hallway. A few moments later and the screams of the gunmen could be heard. The birdman winced at the sound, another failure in his duty. Not to the gunmen but to the cursed man turned beast. All he could do was pray for the man in his ancient tounge.
Then sounds came, all around. One towards Bela, somthing big. The others were below him, digging from under ground. "Mole men, really?" the birdman queried in disbelief. Now wondering if those conspiracy papers were right all along, began throwing the steel knives at the creatures with deadly accuracy. It seems tonight's beasts were not yet done.
Taking the knives to their solid rock-like heads, the attacks all connected and dug into the flesh of the creatures. As the men stepped closer, while the closest ones stumbled to the floor in death, the strike shit with aggressively agile speed and power. Maximized in the closest few strikes, with the patting sound of skulls being cracked, the closer beings absorbed the heavier amount of pure momentum, driving deep into their brains for a fatal blow. Pulling them down to the ground like an avalanching body, the farther men continued walking forward with the knives in their head. Thick enough to take the majority of the forceful steel, the shady corridor peeled with the flashing wave of lightning, drowning quick instances in blinding light before flushing out. Remaining persistent in forward momentum, the hall only bared a few more living men, until the ground began to rumble again.
As did the rock-ish beings, a few more holes opened up in the same fashion as the first wave. Burrowing up and out of the ground, through the tiled flooring that lied in shambles, a few reptilian beings crawled out of the holes that led deep into the earth. With claws that matched their rock-like counterparts, their face bared huge black eyes and scales of swampy green completion. They hissed and clicked from their throats. Joining the Mole men, the flesh-hungry Sleestak pierced their pitch black eyeballs onto the birdman, with pupils much like black-tinted mirrors in reflective ability, sharp daggers of bone pulled from their alien fingers. With teeth pultruding from their wide mouths, open from the surfacing of their revealing nature, they snarled into the height of the figure. Pushing with more speed and agility, they moved in for swipes of their knifing paws, the group tried to overwhelm the birdman in maniacal, steady, unhurried pursuit.
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While thunder boomed from outside, the factory vibrated with the werebeast being sent craning through walls of the building. Savagely beaten at by two bat-creatures like he would have done, the beastly brute torn and kicked back in defense. As the two bats bit into him with their fangs, the Savage bit back with roaring power. Tearing into their body of flesh and bone like it was dinner, the creatures lifted and threw the humanoid being with each attempt to leave the creature vulnerable in the air. Furthermore, driven by blood and animalistic savagery, the monsters fought as the red-eyed Mothman watched from above, as if it controlled the whole ordeal.
Echoing monstrous screams and snarls through the dark building shook and buckled under the combated fury of punches and kicks, ramming back in aggression of survival, the beast threw one of the bats, to get free from their hold, before being grabbed by the tasseled fangs of the other. Barking in yelling reaction, the werebeast was thrown to the floor and lifted up into the air in the true nature of the flying creatures’ attacks. As lightning flickered in for sight, while the drops of dew poured into the wrecked holes of the structure, the beast was thrown back out of the factory and back into the chilling alleyway. Immediately being swarmed by the two bats, the Savage reacted quickly and leaped into them with knifing violence. Ripping and stabbing at them with fury, the bloody cursed being raged through its battered position with a continuous rise of pulsing adrenaline. Fighting for its life, it moved like a train, knocking into the giant aerial beings like an unbreakable object. Biting into the first one that it caught, the black-furred beast tore at their wing, causing a screech of agony as the wing ripped off, blood splattered and poured as the two came crashing down. While the beast took the bat’s back, the angered figure dug its hands deep into the shredded creature that recoiled under him. Screeching into the night, the fight continued as the second bat dived in for its own attack.
The birdman continued sharp steel assault against the molemen. However, as a batch of faster lizard creatures joined the fray from underground, the probability of being overrunned increased exponentially. He needed a stategy, a way to thin their numbers.
Realizing now was a good a time as any, Ghost Bird aimed his wrist at the crowding creatures. He had a trump card in the form of two wrist mounted sprays. Inside, a fear toxin that caused hallucinations. He would spray one of the two. If the creatures were not immune or resistant, then a few of the closer ones would panic. Run or attack everything, either way it would help thin out their numbers.
Hit by venom of fear, the monstrous lizards-men felt the stinging liquid deep within their pupils. Scotching their tongues and teeth, the creatures stopped in their tracks. In reaction to the toxin, they stood still as their eyes dilated into psychedelic shapes. Shifting through the colors of a translucent funks, they began to hiss into a screech, before their faces broke apart. Into a melting clutter of scaly greens and bloody reds. Lumbering forward into death by way of overload, the monsters began to melt into an ooze of walking goo-soaked-skeletons. Dripping blood and flesh, the green liquid fell to the ground in a muddle of smoke and steam. Sizzling through the concrete as if it was snow, their melting flesh acted as acid. Causing vapors of funky smells to rise through the crowd of invading humanoids, the hallway began to wreak of burnt flesh and concrete.
As the Mole men reacted to the toxin in a non-effected manner, with their exposed areas being as rocky as their skin, the liquid dripped from them. However, the supernatural acid oozing from the effected Sleestaks warded them off upon contact. Causing their solid skin to soften in moisture of the steaming sting, the Mole men experienced the durable skin being broken down by the otherworldly chemical that poured from the remains of the lizard men. Though, the Sleestak acid was extremely dangerous, being stronger than hydrochloric acid, it left the walking goo-stacks in a vulnerable position. Since they were now just ooze-soaked-bones, they could be broken fairly easily. Furthermore, the acid showed to be effective on the Mole men’s rocky skin, burning through their defense and leaving the rock-headed beings as weak as the average earthling creature.
As the hall rumbled and banged under the pressure of the gigantic fight that filled the factory, the melting lizards began to slowly sink into the holes that their acid created. Stumbling into the walls and bubbling from the steaming air, the Mole men even fell into the mess. With the concrete floor caving into the sewer that lied a few feet below them, the acid covered the denigrating ground.
The birdman had to marvel at the unintended effects of his toxin. Made in a way so that the dose did not cause permanent damage, this outcome unnerved him a bit. Nevertheless, he thanked his luck as the lizard creatures' remains melted the stone of floor and creature a like. Leaving the molemen to deal with their fate, Ghost Bird was confident that he now had room to help Bela fight off his attackers. Grabbing his dicarded dagger, he rushed off in the beast's direction.
The trail of destruction led him back into the alley, he winced at the mutilated bikers. Upon entering the battlefield, the birdman witnessed the scene of wolfman versus mothmen. "Now mothmen? Maybe I am going crazy." he chuckled as he charged for the one that could still fly. He jumped, ready to tear its wings.
Standing the misty air, the bruiting beast huffed in pain and soreness, as he stood in the torn carcass of his doing. Blood dripping from his daggering claws, and drool leaking from his lips, the Savage yapped and snapped at the open body. Ripping out organs, and tearing off limbs, the creature crushed the heart in its mouth, as its hands scratched at the dead beast’s wool skin of thick fur. Grinding his nails through to the ground, the beast bit and yanked out the creature’s huge spine before halting at the clear vision of the assured death of the bat monster. Pulsing with adrenaline, the intensely thick figure stood in a state of healing. Sulking in the blood of his wounds, the cursed beast’s body healed with the same vigor as the beast himself. Quickly regaining his stamina and condition, the predatory creature roamed the air for the next threat.
Looking up to the remaining bat beast, the Savage watched as the creature landed on a ledge behind the hovering Mothman. With a shine in its eyes, the silent being floating on air, making no movements or sound. As the bat creature cawed and hissed in a fit of anger, piercing at the monster that pierced back, it watched in a fury that bayed the sorrow for its fallen comrade. As lightning strikes whipped along the air, booming in the sky, the werebeast crushed the spine in his wide hands, before leaping into the air at a rate of heightened velocity. Sprinting up the building in a bipedal stride, the Savage glared at the two creatures, before the bat beast dived from the building and soared down into the brute. Spearing him in the gut, the aerial monster grabbed and lifted the werebeast into the air. While the birdman charged the exposed Mothman, the two monsters fought in the dew-filled sky. Leaving the nonchalant being to stare around in contentment, the mindful creature’s eyes glowed with a light that blotted out the focus of its thought.
And in an instance of silence, the Mothman basked in the murky shadow of its power. Summoning a portal of darkness, a loud hiss erupted between the two figures, as the masked man sored towards the cryptid being. As another bat beast flung itself at the man, in attacking defense. Snapping its fanged mouth, and broadening its large body of hair and flesh, it ripped through the cold air in a heat of aggression. At the size of a car, the creature’s mouth opened to a size that could swallow the man whole. With a similar appearance to the Ahool that fought the werebeast, holding the body of a oversized bat but the face of a monstrous ape, the cryptid snarled back its head and flustered its mane in animalistic charge, while the Mothman disappeared into the portal.
The birdman prepared to strike the mothman on impact. Dagger raised at the creature's heart, he was however intercepted by a summoned bat creature. He could only watch as the split second before being swallowed revealed the monster's escape. Then darkness followed as he was inside its maw. His attack was thrown off, the blade tip barely reaching the soft insides. Without the room to make stabbing or cutting motions, the birdman opted to merely apply pressure to the closest soft spot and slowly and tear through.
Landing on a close ledge of building cliff, with a yapping turn to the sight of action in midair, the Ahool stared up at its partner, beating at the werebeast. As the two fought under the crippling flash of lightning, catch and missing their movements in a reel of images, the grounded beast snapped it jaws and yapped its teeth, feeling the upchuck of its gag reflex. Craning its neck like a sick dog, the creature’s stomach began to tear from the insides. Regurgitating his innards, the bat beast croaked and groaned as the birdman ripper through flesh and skin. Dripping and gushing blood, the creature slumped over in agony and cawed into the high heavens of rain, as the red eyes of its summoned hovered in the distance. Lingering between two plains of reality, the Mothman watched as the creature slumped over in death.
To which, it silently vanished into the air, leaving the two remaining Ahools to their grim faith. Hearing the howling baritone of the ferocious werebeast’s cry of victory, the night lingered in the icy misty of darkness. The Savage stood in the guts and gripped intestines of the dead monster. Lying in its own remains, the being marked the alley with more destruction, as it lined up against the dumpster that they crashed through the air into. Much like a comet, dragging across gravity and into the earth, the Ahool was now dead, as the second bled out from his enormous stomach gash. And with no other threats around, besides the groining whimper of the birdman’s eater, the werebeast growled and darted his head around. With a strike of thunder booming him into a startled position, the alert brute ignored its many wounds and crimson red drenched fur, as it howled into the night and leaped high into the air. Flinging himself far away from the scene, the creature landed into a fence besides the car that Bela owned. Huffing and puffing in a staggering stride, the weary beast punched the trunk open, before looking around in the expectation of something attacking.
Pulsing with thickened muscle at ever thunderous roar of the sky, causing his instinctual body to react in aggression. Ripping the hood up, the werebeast grabbed a small burgundy box of iron and the Jest’s worker bag, before slamming the trunk close in a crushing fashion and leaping up into the air. Traveling past the few small city blocks, the creature touched the ground in the closest park up north. A hefty walk up hill from the industrial region, the spot lied empty beyond a small stream of water and tall trees and undergrowth. Immediately sending out his mighty roar to echo across the entire city, the beast stumbled through a tree, and deep into the abandoned reaches of the recreational plaza of nature. Roaring again, as a threat to whatever may be in the area, the animalistic being wanted isolation, as it howled to the moon with ferocious authority, and no being interrupted the snarling giant. Crawling upon the dark floor of bladed grass, the silent forest side loomed in the twinkling light of lightning bugs and escaping birds.
Slowing in adrenaline and anger, the creature began to stand in relaxation. With no unwanted presence of danger, the beast soon started to lose control of its body. Stumbling and slumping around in bone-jerking pain, moaning and groaning in reaction to the shift, the Savage howled a deep and cold call to the moon. Rolling and crawling in cracking agony, the beast began to decrease in size and mass, as fur fell from his body. Ripping and pulling off his own skin, the pale complexion of Bela was revealed underneath. As the dagger claws tore at the muzzling face like it was a mask of flesh, the Jest gasped at fresh air, as the Savage’s remaining muscle hung onto him like a costume. Crumbling into ash and mist, the naked detective trembled under the pressure of his muscles and bones being left in a state of numbness. Leaving him in shredded clothing, he fell to the ground and immediately began throwing up. Leaning against a tree trunk, holding himself up, he gripped his pants before hurling more of his upset stomach of horrid nerves and troubled stability.
Bela stood drenched in sweat and shingles, surrounded by the cold night. Burning up with the fever of intensity pulsing through him. The warmth of his animal side, the Jest cried under the horrid taste of flesh, metal, and fur. Regurgitating all that his beastly end swallowed, the human cringed in disgust. As the moon highlighted the steam that burned away the ash of his curse, he stood in a heated crater of the Savage. Slowly coming to himself, the quiet fella looked around to see little to no familiarity to his past memories. As the Jest heard the hoot of a small barn owl, staring at him before fleeing away from the spot it was noticed at, Bela was hit by the image of the Mothman. The red eyes and nonchalant silhouette clouded his already scarred mind. Feeling the cold fright of those blood red eyes, the human dropped to his knee before clenching at his gut and spitting up more of his insides. With flashes and glimpses at that his split persona encountered, Bela quickly opened the box and pulled out a secondary supply of his outfit. Near identical to his last, he redressed himself in the drab black garbs that he was used to, before wondering about his partner. Blinking away the yellow striped eyes the predator, the frail detective breathed in another fresh taste of air to wash his mouth of the haunting death, as he looked to the southern skyline and saw the blinking lights of paddy wagons.
Holding his suitcase, knowing they’d have his equipment in it, he began walking through the park and back to his car. Grabbing his silver pocket watch, phone, and wallet, before placing them on his person. Then, find a bottle of his medication, marked with the engraving ‘to easy Mr. Beastly’, his shaky finger opened the container and swallowed two of the pills before looking back at the sizzling debris of his alter ego. But still investigating, the Jest found a stone passageway into the sewer system, sneaking into the underground tunnels of the city, staying out of the sights of the authorities. Walking through complete darkness of the levels that bared sewers systems and subway lines, he used his phone’s map to track his vehicle.
Sirens blared in the distance, as numerous police cars discovered flooded the area, having finally been alerted of what had happened. Meeting the burnt down clubhouse bloodbathe, factory full of caged people, and destroyed industrial building, all a bit of a distance from one another, the patrolmen called in the horrors of the night. As more and more bobbies filled the streets, closing off roads and placing up signs, the region was filled within half an hour.
With their navy blue suits and hard rounded helmets, the policemen investigated the three scenes with no idea what had happens. Ordering in ambulance and paramedics, as well as firemen, they had a terrible handful to examine through. And as Bela made his way to the area, they were in the midst of finding the unfamiliarly overwhelming amount of dead bikers and blood splatter. A massacre, they had begun to call it, many were quick to blame the confusing incident on some gang encounter gone wrong; ignoring the fact that no average gang could cause carnage so large.
As the large red firetrucks arrived, so did medical help, flooding the ‘Bunker’ to release and assist the poor chained figures inside. Having arrive immediately after the exit of the werebeast, the authorities missed the battle of the cryptids. While armed policemen swarmed the alleys and sideways, looking for the cuprite of such an action, the trained men moved around, as the faintly dizzy detective halted under the street. Looking around the dark series of brick tunnels, dripping with water pipes and fuming with heated steam, the ground rumbled with the presence of trains passing around the area. As he slowed to take a breath, after walking nearly a half hour back to the crime scene, he felt his tired legs and exhausted chest.
Still soaked in sweat over his abnormally pale skin of goosebumps and trembles, he occasionally huffed out the pulsing feeling of the split ego that the investigator desperately tried to ignore. With a flashlight shining a large blaring glow down the tunnel ways, Bela walked on a bridge to an unusual hole. “Bloody hell?”, noticing the acid-covered remains, the thin gentleman kneeled to smell the scent of Molemen, before looking around to see no other presence. “What could possibly have defeated ye fellas, ey?”, he muttered to himself before digging in his bag and grabbing a silver vile. Opening it and scooping up the acidic substance, the sound of sizzling metal closed up in the magical container, as the investigator noted to study the acid after the mission was over.
Falling from the creature's mouth, the birdman kept his now gory dagger pointed at his enemy. It quickly became apparent that it would not survive the wound. 'The bird has claimed victory over the skys.' his master whispered. "Now the ground." Ghost Bird mumbled as he turned to Bela.
The inard covered wolfman had bested his foe and was now leaping away. The birdman slumped against a wall breathing heavily. With no other threats, it seemed the wolfman left to clean his wounds, or possibly change back? "Hell if I know." the birdman groaned. Getting to work, he began pulling the bullets from his new wounds. His first one from the beginning of this night was already a rough scab. Another hour or two and it would be healed.
Ghost Bird heard the sirens of police cars heading his way. He made his way into the building, only now realizing the captives. Police will handle them now, the mission was still on no matter what. Retrieving his second dagger and torn cloak, he quickly made a wrap for his fresh wounds. Then he limped back to the lizardmen's grave.
Hearing Bela's voice, Ghost Bird peered over the edge and answered, "Fear toxin, made from a plant found on an unmarked island in Asia." He leaped down, nearly stumbling the landing. From the shattered eye of his mask, one would see a tired blue eye clinging to the fight. "It was supposed to be for scare tactics. I can't turn into a beast after all." He finished his explaination with what he passed as a joke.
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