ramblings of a tired individual (6) [a wild update]

I love the feeling of walking through the streets at night. 

It's breathtaking, really. To think there's people in all those houses, and they all live their own lives, filled with loves and hates and problems all their own. People just as complex as me or you or any other human being on this shared earth. People sleeping with their dreams and fears.

But all that doesn't matter. It's only you, walking down the center of the street, alone.

Only the stars are watching you.

And the demon from across the street. 

I sighed as I pulled the bow from my back, testing the string with a finger until it sung. "Can't even give me one damn minute of peace," I muttered, pulling a green feathered arrow from the quiver strung across my back. 

The demon jumped from the ground to the roof, dangling from one spindly brown-and-gold arm on the gutter before swinging itself onto the roof proper. My stance was wide, and the still night left little chance for error as the arrow grew from the demon's back. I glanced both ways down the street for more signs of demons, the strict curfew making cars an impossibility. The pavement was cool against my bare feet, the grass even colder as I crossed the yard to retrieve my kill. I hadn't the frog-like legs this demon wore, nor could I easily reach the roof. However, a curved metal railing and a slightly lower awning gave me the path I needed.

I enjoyed the feeling of the shingles and took my time walking across the spine of this house. I could almost feel the breathing of the family sleeping within, blissfully ignorant that I traipsed only a few feet above their heads. I smiled at the thought, wondering what they would think if they also knew I shared that roof with a demon, albeit a dead one. 

It wasn't that large, perhaps only the size of a border collie, and even that would be a bit of an overstatement. It's skin was a deep brown, more the hue of dark chocolate. Streaked throughout were veins of shimmering tan, looking almost gold in the moonlight. It had thin, knobby arms with three fingers and no palm, and it's legs were long. It's stomach was distended and its toad-like face crinkled, the eyes black and beady. I braced my arm against its side, pulling my arrow from its back. I brushed my hand along the shaft --checking for any cracks or warps in the black wood as any good archer would-- before slipping it back in the quiver beside its sisters.

I rolled the demon unceremoniously off the roof, landing beside it with hardly as much noise. It was lighter than it looked, and I dragged it easily across the grass to the curb. Before leaving, I stuck a green painted wood sliver in its shoulder, marking it as my kill.

"God knows I don't get paid enough for this," I said, speaking softly by way of habit more than any real need. After I had killed a demon, others rarely stuck around. I wouldn't find others this close this soon. 

I struck out a new direction, following the street north until it met another, which I took east. 

I turned the bow in my hand, letting the metal slip in my palm a few times before pulling it more comfortably around my shoulder. As I walked, I wondered how I would feel if I were in one of those houses, asleep and ignorant to the world around me. 

I walked and I wondered. Silently, blissfully, alone.

- - -

"Good hunting?"

"Average night, what about you, Eric?"

I shrugged and produced another coin, sliding it across the table. "Three toadies and a bat. Raise you one."

"You can't intimidate me, greenie boy."

I made a helpless gesture, 'accidentally' letting my cards show. Marcus tossed his cards in with a curse and I pulled the coins to my side of the table. "Straight?" Trevor asked.

"Ironic?" I quipped back in the same tone. I rearranged the cards and laid them out carefully, pausing between each one. Three, four, five, no six. Just a nine.

Marcus would have sliced open my shoulder, but my knife slipped in between with a hiss of metal on metal. He stared holes into me but I didn't particularly feel like taking place in his macho contest and so rolled my eyes before I threw some weight onto my arm, tossing him back to his seat. 

"You boys fighting over me before I even arrive. How romantic." Melissa laughed. "It's a joke, guys." I fiddled with my knife, twisting the leather handle between my hands, inspecting the acidic green tinge to the metal that marked it as mine. "So..." I twisted the knife back into my belt, leaning back so that only one leg of the stool pivoted on the ground. "How did everyone's night go?" I pulled the edges of my cards up as Trevor dealt them. Anything to keep my eyes on the table. 

"Average night." Trevor would be the one to break this awkward silence. Besides, they had the benefit of sitting on the other end of the table. "How about you? You worked Maddie's sector too, right?"

I heard the click of feet approaching and the sound of coin exchanged for drink, but my eyes stayed on the three of clubs in my hand. "Yes I sure well did. And you better tell nobody nothin' or you won't be saying anything again, you hear? But Maddie, she should seriously think about retiring, seriously. More toadies running around there than I've ever seen before, let me tell you, and they weren't even shy to get close to me. Sure thing they'd never have the chance to make that mistake again, but Maddie shoulda never let them have that thought in the first place. Lazy chick probably's a peeker. And Eric you're not going to win anything with that hand."

"Thanks, I didn't notice." I threw the cards in, not even bothering to try and bluff a few coins out of Marcus with Melissa sitting between us. I pulled my eyes up from the table and I did try my luck in staring her down, even knowing it was a lost cause. She tipped me a sideways smile and I was able to give up with some grace.

Now I had neglected to describe anything of the scene. It's my first time with all this story telling, so let me catch a little break and just give the descriptions to you now, just so you all won't come complaining to me that I never really showed you the setting or the characters, and my friends are really characters let me tell you that.

Let me start with the cliche: I was looking around (I really was) and decided to analyze my surroundings while I waited for Trevor and Marcus to finish smack talking their cards into submission. It was a fine art, card talk, so I guess I couldn't begrudge them their fair play with it. Anyways, I was looking around. 

The room wasn't packed by any means, though a fair amount of people lingered between the tables and flitted around the bar. Enough so our group didn't look out of place. The building had a retro vibe to it. The walls were made of a dark wood, vertically planked, with many pictures framed along the side. Old fluorescent bulbs gave the edges of the room a distinctly yellow tinge, contrasting to the bright white, green, and pink-red that lined the bar. 

Usually, a bar would have memorabilia plastered to every available surface. Signed posters, flags from the local teams, sports equipment or even old coke-cola advertisements. Something that would make the clientele feel at home.

Except this bar was only for demon hunters.

There were four swords, two bows, and twenty-seven signed glaeves. Curved demon horns replaced the normal deer antlers above the bar, and a mural of bones covered the rest of the backsplash. 

The clientele was in a similar fashion: I could see the glint of steel reflecting in the light when I bobbed my head. A woman sauntered past with a pair of glowing katana crossed against her back. One of them still had dried blood black against the steel.

That was another thing: everything had a faint aura. As a demon hunter, all our weapons are custom made, and imbued with chemicals the demons were all 'allergic' to. This is what gave the steel its color, and each demon hunter in commission had his (or her) own signature color. My color was neon green, like acid. Melissa's was a dark purple, Marcus was yellow, Trevor was a middle-aged blue.

Speaking of them.

I've known Marcus longest. He's been a rival and enemy, and on paper, he still is. But after trying to kill each other for a few months, I've found I can often know what he's thinking, and he can do the same with me. He's started to become someone closer to a friend. We've saved each other's backs so many times now I can hardly count, and I can always depend on Marcus. A constant in my life. Besides, it's easier to keep him within arm's reach, you know, just in case there's a chance to stab the guy. I want to be first in line.

He's not as tall as I am, but broader in the shoulder. I don't doubt he spends more of his free time lifting weights or chewing bricks or. . . something. He has black hair he keeps at a buzz #4 and brown eyes. He fights with a heavy saber, again with the bright yellow tinge. His ranged is a pistol, used sparingly due to how expensive it is to buy anti-demon-imbued ammo for it. 

Trevor next. I honestly don't know how they joined the crew. One moment it was just me and Marcus, being frenemies in a friendly knife-throwing contest, the next Trevor was there, helping patch Marcus up when my knife got a little too close to his hand. Then the next day came, and the next, and each time Trevor was there. 

They sported carrot red hair and a face full of freckles. They were one of the scrawniest of the hunters, with thin shoulders, hips and arms. There wasn't much strength to them, but they didn't really need it. I saw them out in the training yard and knew that they operated more on stealth than strength, range rather than close combat. They kept a thick dagger at their belt for emergencies, but mainly used a sniper rifle. Silent, accurate, and effective. Trevor could snipe an acorn off a tree three blocks away. 

And then there was Melissa. I didn't have to look to see her in my mind's eye. She normally wouldn't be taller than I, but she had built spring loaded combat boots that brought her up to my height. Her face was narrow, framed by wavy dark hair. Whatever god or gods there were, they were generous with her figure. She carried throwing knives and a heavy dagger, more akin to a short sword than a knife.

She and I, we were together for a little while. At least, I think we were. It was complicated. Is complicated.

I don't know anymore. I guess complicated as as close as I can get. 

Whatever. I stopped trying to think about it a while ago.

"Eric. Eriiiic. Yo you dead? Three up, you in?"

I stepped on Melissa's foot before picking up my cards. Whatever. I slid three drachmas in. 

- - -

I yawned and slipped my hat farther over my eyes. It was almost noon: midnight for us demon hunters who reported to our posts as early as eight pm and didn't stop working until four or five in the morning, depending on the day. Point is, after several hours of poker followed by my allotted forty-five minute block in the shooting range and another hour in the gym, I was ready for some sleep.

We might be gods, but I still cherished my five hours of restful obliviousness, thank you very much.

Since technically we were a secret, all the demon hunters, myself included, shared the same complex, affectionately called the House. The House was comprised of several buildings linked together, the highest rising over twenty floors. Besides keeping us away from the citizens and general knowledge, the complex was suited for us as well. It was windowless, or at least the few windows there were heavily tinted and had heavy drapes. Forced darkness for those who slept the day away and came alive during the night. 

There was a whole training center there as well. The bottom floor was a full track and field, the second was filled with the usual gym machines like treadmills and weights, and the third was a full out Olympic gymnasium. The short walls were both free climbing rock walls, simulating both natural rock on one side and cityscape on the other.

A mirrored building on the opposite side hosted the shooting range and two sparring dojo. 

And of course, we had the bar for all our socialization needs.

The tallest building was the apartments. Four to a floor, each had its own kitchen/living space combo, a bathroom and a bedroom. They were all the same, to my knowledge, bar the top three floors, which were separated into only two separate rooms creating space for the six elite hunters. I would assume they were much more lavishly furnished than my own quarters.

I was the northeastern block on the tenth floor. Luckily we had an elevator. I slunk across the blue carpeted floor and unlocked my door by placing my hand on the wood. It opened with a faint click and hiss. I tossed my bag to the wall, yawning again with the thought of finally being alone in my own space. 

I'll be the first to admit: I really can't stand being around people most the time.

I was more careful about putting my bow back onto the rack, taking the time to untaunten the string with the screw in the top. 

I hardly remembered getting into the shower or setting my alarm.

All I knew is that falling against a cold pillow after a long day is one of my favorite feelings in the world.

- - - 

Friday. It's almost like every other day except for one big thing: Friday is payday.

"Seventeen toads, three bats, five horns, one dog. Totals to just over six hundred fifty."

I winked back to Marcus and tapped the counter. "Don't bother, put it on the tab." The cashier shrugged and popped the numbers into the computer. I sauntered over to the wall and listened for Marcus' tally. Let's just say it was a weekly tradition we haven't missed for over three months. 

"Four toads, six bats, twelve horns, ten dogs." The cashier read. He crunched some numbers on a calculator. "Seven hundred twenty." Marcus waved the cash with a self satisfied grin, but I waved him off as I pulled my hat back. 

"Idiot, the interest is better than the beer," I gestured towards the bills as Marcus flicked through them, making sure they were all accounted for. Marcus didn't answer, focused on his earnings. In fact, both of us had done rather poorly that week. It wasn't unusual for us to pull over a thousand a week. Unfortunately, however, the currency wasn't the same as what was used in the outside world. A hundred bills --Tips, as we dubbed them-- were only worth maybe fifty dollars. The good thing for that means saving Tips profited a lot quicker than saving dollars. I felt more comfortable with more money in hold, gaining the bit of interest, maybe only three or four tenths a percent.

Besides, what else was there to use it on? We had free housing. No rent, no water bills. All we had to pay for was luxuries and food --well if we didn't want the free 'glue of the day' from the hall. 

And weapons, of course.

I followed Marcus into the House. We were in the east building, one that held most of the House staff and operational units. Security. Maintenance. Forges for our weapons and armor. Labs to synthesize the demon toxins, labs to study the dead demons. 

Things most us demon hunters could care less about. Maybe the people over there wrote the paychecks, but they weren't the ones risking their necks every night either.

We passed through the bottom floor of the building. It was a lot simpler than walking around, and the place practically backed into our destination: the bar. We were always the first in on Fridays and were able to pick prime seats in the back corner of the room, away from the arcade machines and pool table. There were no booth seats anywhere. A slight inconvenience, but something that also conserved the limited space the building had to offer. The bar seconded as the main floor of the apartments above, so it was only slightly larger than four of our apartment rooms put together. Not a very large space at all for the only real common room in the complex unless you wanted to go over to the North building for the conference rooms (no one did). 

I was tall, but I still had to step up to sit in the high chairs Marcus had picked. The table was small, hardly fitting the four chairs around it. I sat against the wall for an easy view across the rest of the room with no chance of anyone peeking over my shoulder or sneaking behind my back. Not that I really anticipated anyone to try something that stupid here, but one could never be too careful. I was more interested in the angle I had on the bar proper: leaning a little to the left I could see all the seats and --later-- the faces of anyone there. Marcus sat to my right against the other wall. 

Our seats also put us on the same side of the stage. It was economical, only taking up the corner of the room, but it was two steps up from the rest of the floor and allowed whoever stood upon it to have a clear view over the others' heads. Sometimes on Fridays there would be bad karaoke competitions later in the night, but every once in a while a short lady named Christie would take to the stage and everyone would pause to listen to her original songs sung in her sweet voice and accompanied by her own guitar chords. 

Marcus ordered some fries with his new money, but I waved the table boy off. He returned with Marcus' fries and two tall glasses of water. "Don't even think of stealing any," Marcus growled when my eyes danced his way. I tipped my hat forward and shrugged. Who would steal fries? Not me. At least that's the thought I projected. It didn't take Marcus more than a few seconds to look away, distracted by the bell on the door. My knife flashed and two fries appeared in my other hand, hidden carefully beneath the table. 

I looked up and Melissa caught my eye. She quirked an eyebrow and I leaned back against my chair, flicking my hat out of my face with a small grin. "Hey." Marcus may have been oblivious to the world, but I didn't doubt for a second that Melissa had caught my thievery.

I also didn't doubt that she'd play dumb. "Hello, Marcus," she greeted as she took the seat opposite me. She tipped it slightly towards Marcus's side so her back wasn't entirely to the door and lifted a finger to call over the table boy again. It took a few moments for him to notice her in the growing crowd. "Wasting all your money on food again, I see?" She reached over and took a few fries from Marcus' plate, waving away his protests.

We bantered for a bit as the room slowly filled. Trevor found their way over to us and ordered more fries --this time to share. Apparently they had a great week. It was crowded now and we were glad for our corner spot: a few punches were already thrown when one person kicked another's chair or got knocked in the head by a wide gesture. A more orderly fight ring sprouted near the middle of the room and both money and drinks passed hand to hand as good natured cheering rang out. I didn't participate, but Melissa managed to stay in for three rounds before a tall woman with blue and pink hair brought her to the floor. She and Trevor returned with shared grins, having netted over two hundred Tips despite Melissa's loss. "We put in another two hundred for that last round too!" Trevor explained, breathless from having to push through the crowd on the return trip.

"Yeah but we had Peter put in for my loss. He'll get a cut, but the rest of the four hundred'll be in the bank tomorrow morning." Melissa grinned. "It would have been too obvious if we had Trevor bet against me." A few moments later and a hundred Tips were replaced by hamburgers --the best kind, with mayo, bacon and tomatoes and enough spice to make you sweat-- and, since it was Trevor and Melissa treating, champagne. Though as Marcus and I agreed through a shared glance, bubbly champagne shouldn't be matched with hamburgers in any universe.

Christie took to the stage as we ate, bringing the entire room to silence as the first few songs rippled through the room. A new song nearly brought the room to tears with the soft melody and aching lyrics. But then Christie started on the usual repertoire of fast paced, upbeat tunes and everyone flew back into their own conversations. I looked around lazily, comfortable in a muzzy state from the good food and the prospect of sleep not far off. It was then that I saw someone in front of the door. 

Normally I wouldn't be able to pick someone out of the crowd --there were people everywhere after all. Maybe it was the way they stood; uncomfortably tensed, shoulders curled protectively instead of relaxed at the end of the week. Perhaps it was the lack of weapons; no color to define them. I narrowed my eyes, slipped my knife into my hand. Then they turned my way.

I swore, jumping off my stool. I pushed through the crowd. 

The figure must have saw me approaching, because he rolled back on his heels, pushing hair away from his eyes. He smiled that easy smile I knew so well. "Hey, big bro."

- - -

I lost it. I ripped open the door with one hand, yanking Blake unceremoniously behind me by the back of his neck. I shoved him to the wall and my knife appeared in my hand with a flick of my wrist, glowing acidic green in the misty rain. "What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.

He lost all the cool grace he had only moments before. His eyes were flat, dull. He glanced at the knife in my hand, the blade cool against his throat, made a low groan before his eyes rolled up in his head, becoming a heavy weight in my grip. I had to pull my knife away to keep him from cutting himself, but let him collapse to the wet concrete with disgust. "Eric!" Melissa reprimanded. Trevor was already at Blake's side, checking his pulse and shaking his shoulders. A cloud of steam billowed from the door as the warm air met the cool mist outside.

I twisted my knife back into my belt, stepping away. "This is Blake. My idiotic kid brother." I let the hatred seep deep into my voice, more a growl than intelligent speech, but completely mirroring my opinion on the matter. The raw emotion in my voice pushed Melissa back a step and in some messed up way I enjoyed it.

The moment didn't last long. Blake came to with a groan, trying to sit up with help from Trevor. I rolled my eyes and pointedly kept myself turned away. Pathetic. 

As a rule, us hunters didn't talk about what we did before we joined up. It wasn't weird or taboo or anything, it just didn't matter. Who cares if you had a few siblings and a dog on that side? They lived in a dream world, some perfect fantasy.

We create reality.

That wasn't the case for the ones we left behind. We were supposed to disappear, like we never existed. What use was it to hide demons for the world if people could so easily connect the dots back to us? We would have been like blanks in a novel, and as they always said, what isn't said often says more than the words on the page. So instead of leaving blanks, we were erased completely from the narrative. Poof. A few pills, a short rest and it was as if we never were born in the first place. Records were wiped, memories tampered with, the details completely and utterly hunted and destroyed. My parents would never know their eldest son was named Eric, not Blake, let alone that every night I was helping keep the dream they lived in pure. I would never talk to them again, in case my image caused some miracle recall the higher ups didn't catch.

We all agreed to this when I was drafted at eighteen.

Six years later and now my kid brother is standing on my doorstep, like he's allowed to make even more of our memories disappear.

Like hell. "You're going back right now."

Blake shook his head, dark curls bouncing. "Can't do that." He got to his feet with Trevor's help, wincing a bit. He favored his left leg, using the wall for balance. Melissa and Marcus stood as silhouettes against the light from the bar, keeping under the slight protection of the awning. I didn't blame them. The mist had turned into a drizzle, pattering the cement in a lopsided rhythm. Blake blinked. I couldn't tell if the cool rain was helping him back to his senses or keeping him from them. It wasn't as if he had much sense to start with.

"You can. Admin is just over there," I stabbed the direction with a finger. "Just tell them to send you home and they'll be happy to get your sorry butt out of my way."

Trevor wrapped an arm around Blake's shoulders as if to shield him with their petite form. "It's too late to do anything now," they said, meeting my eyes. "He can stay at my place to dry off and get some sleep."

"But it's seven in the morn--"

The knife flickered back in my hand and Blake's words caught in his throat. But I only leaned against the brick wall and wiped the water from it with the underside of my shirt. "I'll be by to take him to Admin tomorrow." Trevor turned Blake around and Melissa held the doors as the three entered the House. I sensed Marcus's eyes on me yet I just watched as raindrops split the point of my blade. A gust of warmth and a billow of mist left me alone in the thin drizzle until the bellies of the clouds turned pink and orange and I went back inside the building to clean up for the next day.

- - - - -

I couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness and frustration from the night before and so laid in bed most the night with my eyes glued to the ceiling. I even put on a star holo with some ambient noise to trick myself into catching some sleep but my brain was in on the ruse. Eventually I dozed but by three I was up again with that horrible feeling of being up too early but knowing deep down you weren't going to sleep another wink anyways. At least no one would bother me this early. I turned up some music and set to cleaning my room up --I had let things accumulate for the last few weeks.