Our story begins like any other, inside a dimly lit and shady bar.
Where all the scum and villainy of the world congregate and do their business.
Inside this very bar sat a man dressed rather poorly. His hair was raggedy, his left shoe untied, and worst of all he reeked of booze.
This man had been sitting in this bar for hours, drinking his sorrows away. Why was he doing this? Simple. He had just killed his wife and kids.
Why did he do it? Well, he didn't.
A demon did. It possessed his body and made him watch helplessly as it carried out the deed, and once it was over, burned the house down to hide the evidence.
With that done the demon fled, making a mad dash toward the city to cause more chaos.
But as it drew closer and closer, the demon suddenly stopped dead in its tracks, and just like that the man regained control of his own body. Confused and horrified, not knowing what else to do, he simply started walking.
He walked for hours until he finally found himself here. In this bar, wasting away.
---
As the man sat alone drinking and wallowing in despair, someone tapped his shoulder. Turning around, he found himself facing a group of men in leather jackets, each holding a beer of their own.
"Hey! Why don't you go somewhere else to drink? Folks like you ain't welcome here in the Rusty Pick." One of the men said before taking a long sip.
Though still deep in his stupor, the man took another swig from his bottle before responding.
"I...hic...don't care...just...hic...leave me alone...hic." He muttered, turning back to his table.
The group, now furious, grabbed him by the shirt and threw him down onto the floor.
"I don't think you're getting it. We run this bar and what we say goes. You should've listened while you had the chance."
As they moved in to beat him, the demon awakened.
In an instant it reclaimed control, and with blinding speed rushed the nearest man. Before anyone could react, it opened its mouth and ripped the man's throat clean out.
The others, having just watched their friend die so easily, scrambled for their guns.
But by the time their hands found their weapons the demon had already crossed the distance. It seized one of the men, bit into his skull and tore the entire top of his head away.
Panic swept through the rest of them. With shaking hands they opened fire, shooting wildly at the possessed man from every direction.
It did them no good.
Feeling mischievous, the demon caught every single bullet they sent his way. And before they could run dry, with a wide demonic smile, it threw them all back.
The bullets moved faster than any of them could react. A chorus of heavy thumps followed, and then silence, as every man in the bar hit the floor. The bystanders who had ducked for cover the moment the shooting started were no exception.
The demon stood alone in the wreckage, cackling to itself.
Then the door opened.
---
A man in a trench coat stepped inside. He walked past the demon without so much as a glance and made his way to the bar, helping himself to a bottle of bourbon. He poured a glass, leaned against the bloodied counter, and spoke.
"It was rather difficult tracking you down. You're not as mindless as the rest of them."
"I know who you are...hunter." The demon's voice dripped with venom. "You've killed too many of us. But today is the day you die."
"Is that right?" The hunter took another sip. "Well then. Come and get me."
With a shriek the demon lunged, going straight for the hunter's throat.
The hunter didn't flinch. At the last moment he broke the bourbon bottle against the counter and drove the jagged neck straight into the demon's eye.
The demon barely registered the pain. It raised both arms and swiped at the hunter's head.
The hunter ducked, swept his coat aside, and drew an angelic gun from his hip.
The demon felt it immediately. That energy. It stumbled back, putting distance between itself and the weapon.
"How did you get that!" It screamed.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
The hunter opened fire, each shot forcing the demon further back across the bar. Eventually the cylinder ran dry and the hunter cracked it open to reload.
The demon saw its chance and charged.
But as it closed the distance it noticed the faint smile on the hunter's face, and by then it was far too late.
The six shooter shifted in the hunter's grip, the frame twisting and lengthening into a large blade. In one clean motion the hunter drove it straight into the demon's heart.
Both the demon and the man screamed. The pain tore through them equally.
The demon collapsed to the floor and began to crawl, desperate, refusing to die at the hands of some lowly human.
The hunter shot out both its arms. Then both its legs.
The demon hit the floor face down and went still, whimpering. The hunter walked over, planted his boot on its side and rolled it onto its back, then leveled the gun at its head.
"You won't kill me." The demon rasped. "If you pull that trigger, this man dies too."
The hunter crouched down, his voice low and even.
"Tell me, demon. Where is Cain."
"He...he..." The demon let out a broken laugh. "You'll never find him. But soon enough, he will find you."
The shot rang out.
---
The hunter holstered his weapon, gathered a few unbroken bottles from behind the bar, and walked out into the night.
A tall, pale man with white hair was waiting for him just outside.
"So." The man said. "Did you find out where your brother is, Seth?"
"Not yet." Seth handed him a bottle of whiskey. "But we will."
"Sure." Stygian took the bottle and drained the entire thing in one long pull, then tossed it aside like it weighed nothing.
Seth watched him with mild amusement. "It's always strange watching you drink. You put it away like it's water."
"Doesn't really affect me." Stygian shrugged. "Tastes good though."
He glanced back at the bar, then at Seth.
"So. Lunch?"
"Only if you're paying."
"I'm always paying."