The devil, the hound and the thief

I slammed the glass on the bartender's table, a burning sensation drizzling down my throat like liquid fire as I grit my teeth and shook my hand.

"Hit me again," I said to him.

"Dude, its not my place to say this, but I feel its for your own good. Go home. Drowning your sorrows through the bottle only works when you don't end up dead. You've had too much," the bartender said. He was a young man, around his mid twenties, with a mohawk and deep set, brown eyes, albeit looking like the nerdiest nerd I had ever seen.

I could see the concern in his eyes, which was rare as he was sure to have seen dozens of heavy drinkers come and go, however I could understand his sentiment. I kept ordering shot after shot until even the renown local champions eyed me suspiciously.

"Please. One more," I said.

"Your funeral," he said, grabbing my glass and filling it with the almost empty bottle he held that held the label; Hit Me Again. 75%. You can imagine just how much it fries the insides.

For tonight, just like any other night, I didn't care. Life, hope, money and especially love. I had deluded myself into thinking what I had would last forever. That being special and running 'errands' meant the world owed me one. I was wrong.

Despite literally drowning myself in an ocean of alcohol, I couldn't rip out the pain from just a few hours ago. I've gouged out an Amphilias' friggin' heart out with my bare hands, been imprisoned in a Pseudo Hell, murdered my way out of an Interdimensional Asylum but none of those left me with a such a torrent of emotion as devastating as this.

One human girl, with waist length straight red hair, with the most dazzling smile in the world, big almond apple green eyes, a high nose, light freckles on her face with cheek bones that look like little sugar plums when she smiles.

Her love for romantic movies, cheesy sitcoms, buttered popcorn, sitting in front of me between my legs as we gaze at the sunset at the beach, remnants of the waves washing our bare feet as we embrace and tell each other that some day we'll build a cabin ashore to have a never ending view of the magnificent artpiece that is the hazy sunset horizon atop the still waters.

I still remember how she liked to run her fingers on my arm, feeling its tense, hard muscles and washing away my fatigue. Her kiss was almost ethereal, but sweet and refreshing to my soul, her breath like a reprieve from my hellish gutter life into a tranquil prairie.

Now she was gone.

In the rain she had called me to meet her at her bus stop, holding her black umbrella, donning her dark blue jeans, pink crop and an unfamiliar jersey. The look in her eye startled me. My heart had beat so fast that I could have sworn it was about to dip.

Our relationship had started to fall off the rails when my contractors started extending their task durations and cutting my remuneration, with the excuse of having new and better players, and my skills becoming obsolete.

I had to work harder, the competition part was real, but my blades never dull when I'm on task.

Nevertheless, it had gotten harder. I barely had the time to talk to her. Day after day arriving home only to slump on the bed or floor, whichever didn't have a mountain of trash.

Making it up to her with dinner or gifts didn't work. She said she only wanted my company, which I couldn't give most of the time, and made worse by my inability to disclose my work and my true self.

I'd say 7 months of having a dodgy boyfriend whose occupation you know nothing about, coupled with the look in my eyes that I always accidentally brought from murder sprees and into her rosy world, finally broke her patience.

She looked at me in the eye, unafraid, certain and in pain.

"I can't do this anymore. I could handle not knowing what you do whenever you can't be reached by phone or not at your house for days when I got to have to myself for at least a full day.

But this... its like you never met me. Like we never shared 3 years of our lives. I gave you everything of mine, there's nothing about me you don't know, no one that's a part of my life you haven't interacted with. But I feel like I'm the only one giving it my all here.

I gave you countless chances, pretended to smile for you, thinking you were having a hard time, tried to reach out... but...here we are. It was all for nothing. I asked for closure but you denied me even that. Was it a young, stupid girl's dream to believe she had found love?"

I could barely master a reply when I saw a tear run down her cheek and she quickly wiped it off with her sleeve. I could only gently hold her arm as If she was going to vanish in front of me.

"It wasn't. I.."

"One chance. Look me in the eye and tell me the truth. What happened? If its pain that's burdening you, then share it with me! For the love of... Argh you did the same for me when my dad died, when I was broken and thought I would never heal. Let me do the same if that's the case, what is it?"

I opened my mouth to speak instinctively, to save my relationship, but the Creed I vowed to, plastered on my chest, burned my insides. I still persevered and tried to spill everything. Years of gore, murder, blood money, monsters, all appointed by sh*tty fate. Alas, no sound came out. I could only grit my teeth as I watched her previously expectant gaze, grow dim and indifferent.

She took a deep breath. Shed no tear and with a broken voice said two words that would haunt my dreams for the next century, before walking away and leaving me to be washed in the rain.

"Goodbye, David."

I remained glued to the spot, my trained ears recognizing the very rhythm of her footsteps as those of deep pain.

Then here I was, sitting on a stool in New Scott's second famous bar, wallowing in my own sh*tty mind.

It was almost midnight, so I decided to call it a day and go berate someone or something to get my mind off this. Perhaps I could even sleep tonight afterwards.

"Cool tattoo," a brunette cleaning one of the tables, wearing a skimpy black skirt, purple sleeveless blouse and knee high black boots said glancing at my neck before winking at me.

Hearing people call it a tattoo would have ticked me off any other day but I simply ignored her, already disgusted by the notion of having a one night stand after my break up.

It was a dark marking, etched into my soul, with only a tattoo like black imitation showing on my skin. A cursed mark that appeared when I was 18 years old.

The Molifius.

As long as I have it, I won't age. I always attract malignant entities and have the ability to absorb them and their abilities at the cost of portions of my soul. Its more of a transaction.

Given the nature of my distinct abilities, I'm able to find work. Shady work, for money. Though it barely amounts to much when I'm treated like a kid among veterans. Granted, I am a kid.

I exited the bar and walked down the road. The image of hoodlums in the corners eyeing those with thick pockets, emitting a dark hostility, couples linking arms as they went home, some emitting a red lustful glow and the homeless sitting on public benches, exuding a gray mist of death did not escape my sight. My enhanced sight, drawn from a crimson, 4 meter tall cyclops that calls himself, All-Seer. Or called himself.

I have 3 abilities in total so far. This being one of them.

The cold pavement resounded my clear steps as I walked down the road in a casual black shirt, brown skinny jeans and high cut leather shoes.

On my side was the highway, on the other, stores of different varieties, most closed for the day, neon lights flickering on some of them, brightening the street.

I walked a great deal, feeling hollow and alone till I arrived home.

My cramped apartment on the outskirts of town, managed by a plump piece of sh*t, that called herself Madeline, welcome me with its gloomy and dull distant visage.I thanked the spirits that I got to my room without an earful of her relentless lectures, opening the door to reveal a cramped room, with barely two rooms. A bedroom more akin to a small pantry, a single bed with a few ruffled blankets, tomes strewn across the room and briefs, shirts and leftovers.

The other room was of similar size, a chair and a table visible from where I stood, worn out rust colored wallpaper vividly vivid from the lights, which were the only constant it terms of function.

I plunged myself into the bed, letting my short black hair spill on the blankets. I had given up of finding a scuffle for the night. Just resting my mind may be enough to push it to sleep. Maybe.

A glowing red circle materialized on the floor next to me pushing away all the contents around it. From it a silhouette appeared, floating above it, with a red hazy figure, featureless and slim but obvious glaring at me.

"What is it now??" I asked, without even looking.

"Great job. Drawing an irritatingly obvious route to your own residence and endangering every single person in this building. You're compromised. More than that you're surrounded actually. Get your a*s to safety right now or you'll spend eternity dining with every monster you've ever killed, in addition to reliving the moment you were dumbed by your first girlfriend over and over again," a stern gentlemanly voice came out of the hazy figure.

I scrambled off the bed and rushed to the window only to notice a literal nightmare waiting for me outside.

'Just my luck.'

(New character)

While on the large tree, lying on its huge branch with my back, cell phone in hand while wearing my white tank top that showed off my chiselled muscles and muscular frame, I smirked while listening to her lovely voice.

"..and I told her to go shovel it up her own-"

"Woooo ...slow down there, you rarely cuss someone out...let's keep it clean. But yea she can be a bit of a ***** ****** **** ****. Don't you agree?" I said.

"Look at you. Pulling the words right out of my mouth. Cussing on my behalf is a little sweet."

"Is it? Glad you feel that way. I got my own bottomless well of sh*t that I need to empty out."

"I'm glad I'm far away right now. If you said that exact same line in your true form you'd have to consider yourself dumped."

"Hahaha... Good one. Remind me to pull one on you the next time I swing by."

"I sure will."

I could imagine her twirling her hair as she lay half naked on her bed, in her white panties and shirt, her phone on her pillow.

Our relationship bloomed when she saw me in my true form. It felt good, finally showing my true self to someone after so many years of hiding and being eaten away slowly by the loneliness. In my profession, barely a soul cared. I was just one weapon in a vast arsenal of items.

Most people think having a supernatural quirk that turns you into something from a fairy tale is cool, thrilling, will get you laid every time you walk down the street, people singing praises, the governments asking for your help and bending the knee.

The reality couldn't be further from such pipe daydreams. The truth is that humans pretend to admire the stories from their fictional

imaginations, convincing themselves that they would wholeheartedly accept things that shatter the norm of their established life.

However, when those things lay themselves bare, defying everything they've ever known, they RUN.

They run with their bodies, they run with their minds, they run with their souls. They scream, asking for the norm to return, cursing you. Even if they don't, it takes one single exposed fang of yours for them to start calling you the F word. Freak. A cumbersome, mundane expression of the repulsive nature of the human mind.

I'm not a super paranoid individual by nature, believing stereotypes assigned to humanity are absolute, but I've seen the evil that mankind can carry, and believe ostracism is pretty in comparison to the deeper darkness that I've felt from us.

However, I give credit where it is due, there are among us good people, who don't take a person's face value as the summation of their whole being. Who at first are frightened by what you look like on the outside, but don't give you a segregatory glare without first searching who you are internally.

One such person is the girl I'm dating now. I met her while on an assignment from the Federal Bureau of Anomaly Containment, an organisation hinged towards pursuing unnatural existences and making sure that all adverse effects they have on mankind are neutralised.

I joined at the young age of 17, two years after my first transformation into what I later learned was a Lycan, short for Lycanthrope.

Transforming was a painful endeavour, having my human flesh ripped out to make way for the tougher, stronger muscle, steel like bones and large frame that dwarfs small houses, and instils an overbearing aura on its domain.

With the addition to strength, speed and defence comes a con. A rage that overtakes my being, with which I can barely contend against.

I met her when I was on an extraction mission in the United Canadian Nations on the western side of the world. A rogue CIA operative had gotten possessed by a powerful Ghast in a base with a team of ten of our own undercover personnel within.

A ghast is a type of violent spirit, seeking only carnage and bloodshed, however, this one was a special case, it being able to conduct intelligent actions. It tried to sacrifice every soul in the base to gain more power, which it partially succeeded, our own personnel using the bureau weapons at hand to ward off the ghast long enough for us to arrive and kill it.

In a nearby town, after the creature's rampage in a 500 meter radius that was caught up in it as collateral damage, I managed to save her, though she witnessed my Lycan form in the process.

While I expected the usual ostracism, she was only shaken by seeing my appearance for the first time, but looked for me afterwards to thank me, even giving me her contact.

She was fascinated by me. She was a biologist, her curiosity trumping her fears. It was fascination first, interest second and then she got more comfortable talking to me, even becoming more suggestive.

Every time we met up, I would forget that life wasn't just a job, revelling in the simple things in life that most people take for granted. Walking down the street while casually chatting, eating lollipops in the park as we cuddled, going on carousel rides with her holding her hand and seeing as she squinted her brown eyes in bliss as we went down at high speed, all made me feel like life wasn't as sh*tty as I thought it was all along.

By far my favourite activity was running my fingers in her short dark hair and bangs while jokingly comparing it to my lustrous lycan fur, seeing her frown and lightly punch me saying the classic ,'Again with your dog hairs. Give it a rest. Short haired beauties are the bomb in this century. It has nothing to do with my occupation.'

Sure I had dated many other girls, especially before constricting into the FBAC but without transparency there was barely a foundation. Excuses could only take me so far.

"So, I was thinking," I said, sitting up from the branch.

"We've been dating for a long time, at least compared to my previous relationships. I thought we could...take a big step."

She giggled on the other line, and I could hear her shifting.

"Like what exactly?"

"I only joined the Bureau because I thought it'd give me a sense of purpose. But now I found that the only purpose I could ever bend to is making you happy, being with you. I want to us to move in together."

"I feel the same way, Morgan. I love you. I didn't think I'd find happiness with a guy so... sophisticated. Its a big step though, considering the Bureau has you on a leash. I don't think they'd appreciate you dodging the service."

"Scr....Stuff that! We can make something work. I know where they live. Trust me I can handle escaping their sight."

"Hmmm. I-"

And silence.

"Linda? Hey Linda!"

What followed was the sound of something slipping and falling to the floor.

With my keen hearing, even through the phone I had heard a soft whistling sound, only ignoring it because I enjoyed the melody of her voice.

Something was wrong!

I hurriedly dropped from the tree and landed on my feet which were covered by black boots.

I darted out of the forest, where I was resting and connecting with nature as she had suggested, running at an unbelievable speed. My short dark hair was being blown away in the wind as I ran.

I was currently in Brazila, while she was living in the US, a cluster of 14 countries occupying the South East boundary below the United Canadian Nations.

In a frenzy, and knowing that I probably wouldn't make it in time, I roared and my body began to inflate, my muscles exploding and being replaced by bigger and stronger ones. The same happened to my bones and a massive snout appeared on my face, golden pupils appearing in my eyes as well as large canines tougher than steel.

My body grew, towering over 4 meters in height and 5 meters in length, grey fur covering it and a faint dark mist rustling in it. I howled into the sky in anguish and burst at subsonic speed in the direction of my beloved.

***

Two days later.

"I'm sorry sir. We can't allow you to see the body. We need proof that you knew the deceased. Her family members were all accounted for yesterday," a nurse said to me.

'Screw it!' I shot from my position at breakneck speed, following my memory of her scent. I traversed corridor after corridor before catching a whiff of it.

The body having been put into cold storage a day before, the scent was very thin, but my prowess in olfactory outclassed any creature on earth.

I finally arrived, kneeling while looking at her cold body. The drawer to her lock, I had pulled with great strength to reveal her cold figure that had a small hole piercing through her head from side only to damage the innards.

The bitterness that strangled me in this moment was so strong that I felt no tears coming down my cheeks, but blood.

My purpose for living had left this world.

Outside my apartment was what I would call a swarm of the third most unsightly creatures I have ever seen.

I don't know what the heck they are called but the sight of their bodies makes my skin crawl. Me of all people.

They were as pale as sheets. Walking on all fours with sickly thin limbs that had large veins showing from their skin. Their heads were bald, faces devoid of any features other than a wide mouth with.....no teeth but a long, slimy tongue.

Their skin was like that of an ancient tree's bark with a hints of what I could only assume was slime.

I say it like they were just standing there waiting for a buddy to finish using the restrooms or something, but NO! They were rapidly closing in on the apartment building. I wondered why I didn't sense them though.

The Molifius as I researched in some old tomes in the organisation, is a curse usually used by demi deities to draw evil on anything marked with them. It can be moulded according to the caster, like how mine has the ageless aesthetic and with it I can also a better feel of any otherworldly existences.

Another perk that was added by whoever casted this on me is the add-on effect of not aging. It took me a while to realise what the full scope of that concept is, and honestly I'm still trying to figure it out.

After visiting countless hospitals asking about the specifics of age and its implications, I learned that aging in its truest essence is termed senescence, where with age comes vulnerability and weakening of the body. Meaning that theoretically, if one doesn't age, the vital functions of one's body can forever put a fierce fight against all disease and injury without deteriorating. Its not immortality but its more like a 'I'LL GO DOWN FIGHTING' longevity.

The fantastical explanation for my curse was that aging was the process of releasing life force. Life force powers the cells, and body's flesh and bones, but according to a very famous Sorcerer, life force isn't something that is constant or in a fixed amount when we are born. His idea was that our bodies continue producing life force but the process deteriorates with time, until the amount produced isn't able to cope with the amount used and emitted, leading to death.

So, since my body doesn't age it's always brimming with life force, the amount its producing not deteriorating at all and none being lost, making me a superhuman whose organs scoff at 90% undiluted alcohol, the cells even capable of speedy recovery of all tissue since life force is in abundance.

The last explanation, was from this psycho who said I'm basically a constant in time. Unaffected by its passage and thereby not aging. But that left too many holes.

So basically I'm not sure which of these ideally apply to my situation. Maybe all or none.

Back to me grabbing what's important and jumping down the window in a rapid escape, I turned to see those things passing through the walls like they were nothing.

Are they wraiths? Oh SHIIIIIT... What if that psycho was right? And I really am a stubborn constant in time? Are these guys like patrol officers here to take me in??

I kept running and they kept following. From the looks of their phasing ability I don't think weapons could actually do harm and I'm too scared of getting near them to engage. I've seen what happened to Rushing Red and Dark Streak on the TV.

(A/N: The Flash and Zoom respectively . Alternate world vibes).

A red circle appeared beside me as I was running and just like usual, a featureless d*ck, I mean person, appeared above it, floating while matching my speed as I ran and facing me.

"Have you lost your edge? Losing a girl can't possibly make you dumber than you already are can it? Those are sackers. Summonable entities from a Pseudo hell. Though they can pass through physical matter and literally suck your soul out with but a touch, you have an enchanted item at your disposal that can inflict harm on all mythical creatures. Why the heck haven't you dispatched them yet?" it said with a rebuking tone.

"Oh. Right," I said, the shame affectionately rubbing my face.

"Remember. They were summoned. The summoner is bound to be close by. Finish this and come to HQ, we have something to discuss," the hazy figure vanished, leaving me with a blank expression.

I sighed and turned back to face my foes, activating my enhanced sight ability, All-Seer, which let me see the creatures' grey air and their link to a power source. The summoner.

However, the link, which was a grey chain connecting each of them, or supposed to be linking them to their master, had nothing at the end of the chain but a foggy haze, following the movements of the beasts. The summoner was preventing the chain from giving away his position.

I stretched out my hand, and with a blur around my palm, a sword appeared in my hand. It was a claymore, 130cm in length, its blade was a shining silver, the hilt was of a dark crimson, with streaks of reddish gold. The pommel resembled a cone, golden in colour with a peculiar insignia.

The whole sword emanated a pristine but shallow glow as I dual wielded it.

"This should be enough," I said, and zoomed with a great speed at the creatures that were not fazed by the appearance of the blade in my hand.

Two of the sackers leapt towards me. We were a distance from the apartment. Luckily for me, with how late it was, fighting in the middle of a tarred road with a bunch of these wannabe-wraiths didn't attract much attention in city's outskirts.

My feet, my torso and my hands. These were the elements I needed. As a hard-core swordsman I valued the grace in my attacks and movements. I despised the haggard and crude movements of pirates or bandits that I had witnessed on television, devoting myself to the true path of the sword.

My hands wielded the blade like it was a loved one. I had held another someone with just as much care too, my right on the hilt, knocking on the guard with my thumb, the left below it, alternating between loose and tight to enhance flexibility.

Swish! Swish!

A powerful down stroke and a horizontal slash immediately after, dispatched my enemy duo in a split second. Barely visible demarcations of the sword attacks appeared on the bodies of the creatures before they shrieked and disintegrated, leaving piles of what looked like cement.

The colleagues of the deceased were still not fazed, rushing towards me still with lesser tact than Gollum reaching for the ring.

(A/N: Lord of the Rings reference).

It seemed like my opponent was either probing me or was confident in the fact that I wouldn't have anything the counter the sacker's intangibility.

Either way, I dispatched the creatures without any problem, leaving me with piles of sand around me as I stood in the freeway.

I waited for a follow up attack, but it never came. It seemed the attacker didn't have plans to further his assault, which I welcomed quite gratefully as I was still not in the mood. My heart was still in shambles and after the adrenaline of fighting something to the death, which somewhat lessened my burden I was still feeling down. As such I decided to follow orders and go to the base.

***

For most people, going to the base of fantastical activity is like travelling underwater to discover a vast city with different and strange constructs or ascending to the Primordial World through the Dao of .... ahem sorry I read too much manga and manhua.

The point is, for me it's going to a Hot zone, one of 97 in the country and showing the proof of Membership, a mark inscribed on the back of your palm shaped like a simple circle with a simple line within that makes the whole thing look like a smiling circle. Cheesy.

The mark only appears under a powerful influence of magic so its usually invisible.

Once you show it, you're transported to the base, in a zone of the Pinnacle Administrator's choosing. Its programmed choice.

In my case, it was in a yellow room, almost like a cuboid in shape where I found myself seated on a lovely wooden chair on the other end of a lovely wooden polished table, facing Grumpy the cookie monster. My Guide.

"Now let's talk. This is the first time in your record to do such dumb sh*t like exposing your location. A location full of innocent, broke civilians going about their ignorant lives. Things could have gone badly," the man in front of me said. He was a tall man, 1.86 meters in height with blue fuzzy hair rising almost 10 cm above his head like an afro, a bushy beard and moustache of the same colour along with large brown eyes. Dennis. My Guide. A trainer assigned to me until I reach a specific age and rank in the organisation, Hidden Hands.

"Oh please, don't give me this sh*t. If you cared about the general public you'd fight the monsters than terrorise lone cities and kill hundreds. To you it's just collateral damage that bears no extra costs for the organisation," I said nonchalantly.

"We do care. That's why we take youngsters with gifts like you in, teach you the ropes and then you get money, clothing and purpose."

"Don't you mean killing and stealing? I thought it was purpose when I was still seeing ghosts and demons wherever I go. Having them look at me like I was some kind of slab of meat."

"Really? Then why are you still here?"

"Where the bloody hell am I supposed to go? Tonight just proved that belonging isn't really something that my kind does."

"Kid, I know you get all cranky and b*tchy when you're upset but you need to cool off. I'm not a shrink or a therapist. I know what you're going through but if it affects your progress I don't know if you'll be allowed to stay here anymore. Best case scenario is that you'll be 'Flushed' and thrown in back into the streets. Worst case, you'll die. I suggest you get your sh*t together and prepare for your next assignment."

"Next assignment?" I asked.

"Yes. You haven't had one in 2 months. Messing up like you just did today is one way to get downgraded to annual. I'm trying to help you out here. Are you in, David?"

I sighed. Refusing meant decreasing my credibility and losing out on the monetary reward which I desperately need. I used to have no real need for it because I was in love. I could just pickpocket, shoplift or something, but now it was back to reality. Such trivial 'jobs' cannot keep me well for long.

Indeed, I was balancing on a razor sharp blade. Each recruit with a guide has contractors who offer jobs by reviewing your record, but now with more people like me appearing, the competition was fierce and I could barely get an assignment.

"Yeah."