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Dialing The Devil Started by: Constantine on Jan 20, '17 17:56

Something wasn't right. Well for starters, the whole fuckn thing wasn't. If you could imagine the worst kind of killer, a serial murderer, a tainted soul so lost in its own madness that the whole taking of another's life became a game. Then, that soul was tortured over, and over and over again to the point it seemed to enjoy it. And then, stuffed that mess of a deformed and once recognizable human spirit into another body, you'd have the current thing Constantine was face to face with.

Or maybe that was Constantine's interpretation. But as it was, you wouldn't pick it anyways. At least not by the fat meat suit. It looked like your average, fucked up human being. Well, besides the barb wired baseball bat it had been tapping on the ground constantly for the past five minutes as it didn't take its eyes off of Constantine. It didn't even blink. He just stood there, tapping away, staring.

And Constantine? The cheeky prick was staring right back. The difference being he was pointing a shotgun at DoubleChinLarry's chest. And since he wasn't a fuckn nut job, his eyelids moved from time to time. Yet there they both were, in some kind of Mexican stand off, just waiting. Waiting for the other to make a move, or maybe for the other to let off and then piss off.

The thing about it though was Constantine just couldn't let it go. He got word that some crazy fuck was prepping to kidnap a kid to make as a connection to that evil shit stain that ran things beyond the veil. A telephone line directly to hell, at the unfortunate and very unaccepting demise of his would be latest victim. Another something to break up. Another someone to rile up to later join the queue of the many he'd crossed over that wanted to gnaw on the very fabric of his hellishly unpopular being.

But Constantine could see this guy wasn't like the others. For starters, he'd somehow come to posses an actual human body. Demon's could sometimes do this, and did, but not for their own amusement. If they were being tasked to some purpose then sure. Otherwise, it was rare, if not non existent, as this demon seemed to have free will. As much as an insane asylum could muster, but he surely wasn't at the will of another.

Constantine could see it in him, as if a spark of consciousness was still present. As if there was a self awareness to the body, and the twisted mind, even if minute. A small light available to understand and reason, even if selfishly. Being able to choose an action rather than being at the mercy of habits. And even if those choices were a little or a fuck ton off the sane chart, it still meant he, or it, could be reasoned with.

So the two just stood there in the warehouse, eyeing each other, as a boy sat merely feet from them, tied up to a chair..

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I continue to just stand here with my bat scrapping on the ground and I got exactly what I wanted a face to face meeting of sorts with Constantine. This man was not like any demon hunter I have ever faced before, he was special and all. This fellow has been ruining plan after plan of ours and it's starting to piss me right the hell off.

 

I look back at the kid and start to drool. I have not eaten in days, maybe just a nimble.. No Larry this kid is needed for more reasons then a midnight snack. The small room, even seemed smaller and constropobic at this point. The shotgun towards his chest will only slow me down, but let's just give the demon hunter some hope. I doubt he has even killed a third or fourth level demon in his time of being a demon hunter. How pathetic.

 

"So seems we are at a draw here, so are you going to do something, or can I just go?" Larry knows how short tempered humans are and I hope that insult hit it's mark. But Constantine was holding it in pretty well and I am beginning to get bored of this shit.

 

​​​​​​​I grab the shotgun and throw it across the room. I let out a smile, as I pull out my bat and lung forward with sudden pace. I swing down with both of my hands at the human's head. 

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Lord was growing uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Staying put on a wooden chair, watching two weird man face off like in those Mexican movies wasn't something he had put on his bucket list.

He had no idea how he had gotten himself in this position, all he remembered was a hard blow behind the head and pitch black. He had dreamed about his father. How he wished he could've had a normal childhood if only he had gotten the attention he needed. He saw the other kids laughing, being happy and paying with their dad, will he was stuck with nothing. Of course, he did have a couple of friends back then, until he killed that annoying dog. Now he had grown in solitude, training everyday and becoming a powerful human weapon. He wanted fun, killing was fun. The more the kill was complicated, the more it was fun. But for it to be complicated, he needed skill, so he trained.

He figured one of the two men would act soon, but he wasn't a very patient kid. The fat piece of shit that had kidnapped him had made the mistake of only taking his gun and bag, thinking that all the weapons he owned where placed in that bag. False. He had a large variety of weapons hidden all over his body, and he slid out a small knife from his sleeve. It wasn't his first rodeo, he would always get captured at first. He was pleasantly surprised to see how quickly he learn and soon enough, he was a master at escaping. He silently cut the ropes that we enlacing him and heard the familiar faint sound of the rope hitting the ground.

He got up with a confident gesture, grabbing two small handmade hand guns from inside his jacket. He had created his velvet red jacket expressively for that purpose, making two layers so he could hide small weapons literally inside his jacket. A quick shot at the man's baseball bat and they where both looking at him with a confused look.

"What the fuck is going on?" he asked, scared.
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Depravity, cunning, guile, deceit. One could not get past the guardians of this world without having all of those merits, and then some. Sometimes, the devil isn't satisfied with just your own soul, or the soul of one you sacrifice to the Prince of Darkness. Sometimes, more is needed, and those who deliver it, are forever blessed by the Dark Lord, the one true God.

DoubleChinLarry, may have fulfilled all of those criteria, but he wasn't the only one, and this time, he was being inefficient. He had taken too long, far too long to offer the required sacrifice, and Lucifer was growing impatient, awaiting his due. This would be the last time that the fucker had outdone me in his obligations to our master. This time, I will snatch his prize away from his jaws, and claim all the glory for myself.

But, there were complications. The fool had managed to attract the attention of a demon hunter, AND he had not disarmed the sacrifice properly. Now, the incompetent wretch was involved in a standoff against two humans. We both knew that he had nothing to fear, for even if his flesh were to be destroyed, his mauled spirit will return to the Lord's domain, only to be reincarnated. That is, after he had suffered our Master's wrath.

When the sacrifice pulled out his dual guns, I knew I had to act. I stepped out silently from the shadows, aiming my tommy-gun at the sacrifice and whispered to him in a tone that would make any mortal's flesh crawl. "Why don't you let go of your toys child? It will save you a lot of suffering and punishment for your misconduct."
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As the bat swung down violently towards Constantine's head, he had a choice to make. Move, or be split the fuck open. It wasn't until a single gunshot hit the bat as it came down that he decided to duck and roll off to the side. He was still taken back by the sudden disarming. He tried to squeeze the trigger as the demon spawn swiped at his shotgun, but nothing. What a fuckn time for his sawn off to jam.

As Constantine dusted himself off and stood back up, he suddenly noticed the 'offering' facing off with Larry. Before he could even speak or fully grip the situation, another appeared from the shadows, with his own larger than life weapon aimed at the supposedly kidnapped victim. What a goddamm twist. This thought and more flew through Constantine's mind. Yet all he could do, without a weapon of his own, was interject vocally.

"Well this certainly has more twists than a nun's nickers. That's if they truly wear 'em. I always wondered if they went commando to communal. Imagine that. A quick entry for God's holiness into the holy of holies."

Constantine smirked, genuinely amused at his own offering on the situation. A demon, a not at all victim, and some other fucker yet to reveal who he was. The victim too, for that matter. All in a life or death standoff together, and all Constantine could think about was getting up the skirt of a nun. He let out a hearty laugh then pulled out a small tin of smokes. He removed one, lit it up and took a puff as the others watched him, possibly bemused.

"So, who's who in this fuck knuckle of a situation then." He said as casually took a seat on the chair that the human offering was previously on and tied to.

"Come on, let's not be shy. We're here now, and I presume no-one wants to die here. So let's not be hasty. Keep your guns steady if you wish, but why not get to know who we might be killing or getting killed by." Constantine pressed to the group after another puff of the cigarette.

"How bout you first, devil spawn. There must be more to you than wanting to butt fuck a human." He said with a devilish grin, trying hard to stir the demon yet at the same time not wanting the place to go up in a shit storm. It was a fine line but he didn't mind tip toeing on it.

Constantine had found himself in many a situation like this. It wasn't unusual for him to be staring death smack bang in the face every other week. He wasn't about to let it kill his dry sense of humour though, after all, if death was imminent then why not ride the bitch with a smile and a middle finger in the air.

"So go on, tell the group who you are. I'll start you off. My name is Lucifer's bitch, and I'm an alcoholic." Constantine humoured as he looked at DoubleChinLarry.

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"FUCKING MORTALS THEY THINK THEY ARE SO GODDAMN FUNNY!" I take my bat and run it over my back shoulder and back to the ground once again. "You won't be laughing when I drag your stupid ass to hell and let Lucifer butt fuck you for the rest of your life". Larry was no idiot and he knew that most of the people in here want him dead. So it was no place to be, he needed a way out of here.

 

He rather take on the fucking first level devil named Caesar anyday, he had no power that could even come to matching mine. All he likes to do is steal my glory and then suck Lucifer's dick. In hell he was known as Lucifer's bitch or the dumbass. First level demons are no match for him, but Constantine may prove to be an actual problem if he is allowed to stay alive. If I bring him back, Lucifer could promote me to Prince and I will have power to come close to Lucifer himself. But he was also needed to take out the demon hunter, so I will keep his low life ass alive.

I knew there is only way out of here and that is to fucking fight. Larry then makes his bat disappear and takes out a six shot shotgun with mortal killer rounds. These bullets were made to pierce through human flesh and kill mortals. It was made through the gun builders in ancient Egyptian times when they were forced to hand over their stolen technology. But that is a completely different story to be told and not enough time to tell it anyways. If Constantine was a smart as he thinks he is he will know about this deadly shotgun. This was my second favorite weapon to kill demon hunters with, the first of course is my bat.

 

"Know know let's end this shit here. I don't have time to let you leave and drag you out from the depths of your stupid base once again!" "Draw and fight like a man". I can feel the eyeballs of Constantine eyeballing the shotgun. "I do think you should remember this shotgun here it was made thousands upon thousands of years ago. Oh yeah and I killed your old partner with it. You won't remember because you were knocked unconscious and then you forgot the whole week before the incident. Might as well tell you know you shit!”

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What the fucking hell. Was. Going. On. Demons? Lucifer? What kind of drugs had they fucking taken?

Now that all the attention was taken off of him, he took the opportunity to run. He quickly dropped a smoke bomb and ran like a fucking Bambi, hitting himself on a couple of crates on the way. Whatever they where playing at, he didn't want know.
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I laugh at the smoke bomb the sacrifice tosses before attempting to flee. Fortunately, it would distract the demon hunter, but my unholy eyes gazed through the smoke cloud. Bringing my weapon to bear, I let off a volley, aimed at the sacrifice's feet. I am careful not to hit him, but to send him sprawling to the floor. 

I rush forward with inhuman speed to grab the child before my rival and the hunter can catch up. I have been planning this for a long time, and I won't let anything get in my way. 

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After a period of time passed, Constantine's drug induced high began wearing off. He noticed the small group was scattered about in the bar, high as fuckn kites on heroine. So much for slaying a level four demon carrying an Egyptian magical shotgun. That would've capped his first week in Vegas, he thought, as he pushed himself off the leather seat and slowly stood up.

Constantine took a look around at the group of misfits as he stumbled to the bar, flicked open a bottle of whisky and poured himself a drink. Fuckn drugs, he thought, then knocked back the quarter full glass.

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Lord tripped and banged his head on the floor. What the fuck was he doing? Drugs... he remembered his partner Caesar had invited him to meet new people. To tell the truth, Caesar was probably the closest thing to a friend he had ever had.

"What the fuck..." he whined, rubbing his head. He hated drug, he didn't even know why he took some in the first place. It made his too social and he hated it. "I'm gone guys..." he mumbled, carrying his back behind him.
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It was with a strong reaction that Caesar hiccuped back into reality. He was holding a bottle of Lysol in his hand, which he had been aiming at Meme_Lord's legs and squeezing with all his might, and a little distance away from him, lay a smashed bottle of whisky, which someone had clearly chucked over there. Fuck, this was he last time he tried LSD. The Lysol had squirted out of the bottle in significant amounts, and had run all over his shirt and pants, and he found to his horror, that there was a perfectly circular, moist stain, positioned strategically over his phallus, where the Lysol had accumulated, in a most inconvenient manner.

Great, just fucking great. He would have to head back home and tolerate all the giggles and looks people tossed at the apparent wank stain all along the way. He tried his best to wipe it off, but in his post-intoxicated state, it only made it look as though he was jerking off right in the middle of the street, with the pants on, attracting scandalised gazes from nearby pedestrians.
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