Dismissing the foul vapors, William trudged his way through yet another alleyway as he tried to find a certain Alex Gunderson. Somehow Alex had caught wind of the hit taken out on him and fled. Hoping to keep his ringblade as full as possible, William found himself stalking through various alleys on the hunt for bums. As he neared the mouth of the current area he was in, he could hear a man snoring very loudly.
William peeked around the corner and could see a rotund man lying in a pile of trash bags. It was impossible to tell if the man had meant to be there. With the grace of a well-practiced killer, William darted up to the man and immediately shoved the spike from his ring into the man's heart. His soul was drawn out of his body and not allowed to transcend, tricked into being loyal to the kultist's will.
"Pitiful. You barely have the power I need," William said as the man's soul was damned in its entirety. As the soul was obliterated William stuck his ringblade into his own arm, drawing a line of blood. The spirit was used as fuel for Fallen Wisdom, a power that would grant a kultist of Under insight into a 24 hour period. The blood was a tribute to the Box of Under, the true source of his power. His visions would prove both useful and mysterious as he was unsure when they would come to pass.
Taking a seat in a shadowy alcove nearby, William prepared himself as the visions came. Closing his eyes brought a sudden shift in scenery. Blinding white light forced its way into his retinas. Large gray blocks towered over him in four directions. Woozily the scene shifted so that he was standing, staring over an intersection. A bright red light shone from across the street, its neon lights failing every so often as it flickered. A skittering sound forced his sight to sway behind him, revealing only a dark alley. The skittering came closer, but again nothing could be seen. William could feel eyes upon him.
William awoke in a cold sweat, a bit surprised. He was expecting to see something about his current mark but nothing of that was revealed. Shaking his head to clear the fog of visions, he began to walk out of the alley seemingly no better off. Much to his chagrin, he would wander the streets for another two hours before a lead turned up. He had been fortunate enough to catch Alex moving between hiding places, sending the two into a fast chase. William's trench-coat billowed behind as he matched Alex step for step. Alex turned a corner and darted between a few buildings, knocking trash bins into the assassin's path.
A few minutes of sprinting found the pair headed toward an intersection. Alex had made it into the street before everything went black. Blinding white light met William's eyes as he rolled himself off the ground. Feeling the back of his head, William pulled back a bloody hand. Dazed, he looked around to see a red, flickering neon sign across the street. A slight clicking sound came from the alley behind him, but he could see nothing. Deciding to focus on finding Alex, William turned and ran after the man.
Having had enough of the chase, William pulled a large one-handed gun from a pocket in his coat and opened fire. Several bursts of bullets flew through the air, a handful finding home in Alex's left shin. The force had been so much that it had essentially blown the man's lower leg apart, leaving bones and a mess of tissue clinging to them. With a sigh he holstered the weapon and began to close in. He was uncomfortable with how easy it was to kill someone with ordnance. William preferred a much more personal approach to assassination.
The clicking sounds turned to more defined skittering, high above the man on the walls. His eyes could not penetrate the darkness as the sound continued to encroach on him. His eyes narrowed, the scar across his brow crinkling strangely. "I'm being hunted, eh?" he said to himself. Before he could draw his gun, a dark shape jumped down at him, knocking him to the ground before leaping back into the shadows. The creature had pierced William's abdomen with something, though it was not life-threatening. The kultist stood and again went for his gun. As before he was knocked down and again stabbed. He now knew the creature was just toying with him.
"So, Daemon, what are you called?" William said aloud as he stood again, clutching to his new wound. Chittering sounds formed like syllables were spoken from the darkness. A moment later, the daemon dropped to the ground. Its body was a large, writhing spherical shape from which six long, spindly legs protruding from it. The beast was covered in a leathery hide though as it approached, it appeared to be covered in a layer of shimmering water. As the light hit the daemon, William was faced with its horrible visage. The true form of a daemon was much for the mind of any human to overcome, but William had long since taken steps to steel himself against the mere sight of a daemon.
In a desperate move, William went for his gun again which sent the daemon lunging toward him with great celerity. The gun, however, was not his aim, instead choosing to fling his coat open as the beast dug a leg into his body. Pinned to the ground, the blood flowed free from the kultist, his sacrifice accepted along with damnation of soul. The daemon peered down inquisitively at the kultist as he smiled up at it. Six barbs of darkness flew out of his coat, piercing the daemon's flesh with ease. A horrid scream erupted from the beast as it fell over. "A Grotesque, huh? Some Chemicalist is gonna be pissed his pet is dead. Fucking wonderful."
William stepped on the daemon's face, crushing its skull with a squishing pop. Finally dead, the beast melted into a viscous sludge that slid down through a sewer grate. With a sigh and a limp in his step, the kultist made his way over to Alex, whom had taken to giving the dirty concrete a nice hug. "I hope you're worth all the trouble you got me into tonight," he said, putting two bullets into the man's head.
Fan-fiction for Obsidian: The Age of Judgement
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