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Damien O'Dwyer

0 · 331 views · located in Las Vegas, Nevada

a character in “Path to Transgression”, as played by conor

Description

Image
Name: Damien O'Dwyer | Cú Chulainn
Age: 28 | 865
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Irish
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Role: Demon 1
Occupation: Author
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 192lbs
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Black
Skin color: Pasty white.
Scars/markings: Damien has been in various battles and theatres of combat over the centuries. Thusly he has accrued so many scars and markings that litter his body.

Ability:
Damien has the power to self-heal. This is one of the reasons he has managed to survive for so long, provided the injury does not kill him instantly he can heal himself over a number of days or weeks depending on the injury..

Likes:
Alcohol | Tea | Poker | Sex | Cigarettes | Blues-Rock

Dislikes:
Coffee | Kids | Modern Music | American Football

Hobbies:
Writing | Drinking | Gambling | Playing Piano

Traits: Damien embodies the sins of lust, wroth and greed. He is a hedonist through and through which can be seen in his daily life. He feels that this is the best way to make someone happy and will tempt to lead people off their path onto his to try and achieve happiness. You could call him selfish but he is a devious demon who just wants to get his job done and avoid being taen to the Underworld. There is no beer in the Underworld.

Biography: Damien was traditionally considered a 'demon of war'. For large periods of his long lifespan he was given humans who were destined to become soldiers and warriors (hence his demonic name). Serving in countless battles throughout history he now makes his living writing books about all his stories and has made himself a rather large fortune.

In contrast with his colourful past Damien hasn't been assigned to a soldier in a number of years. As such he has let his job slack, no longer feeling the passion he once had. He now finds himself languishing in Las Vegas, spending his days in the many casinos, bars and strip clubs waiting to stumble upon his newest assignment.

So begins...

Damien O'Dwyer's Story

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
Damien's eyes opened to the view of his ceiling. Above him a pristine white fan swirled almost hypnotically. Damien's eyes were blurry from his sleep. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands he cleared his vision and sat up on his bed. His house was perfectly clean. Which wasn't as he remembered it. Quickly glancing down at his bedside clock he saw the LED lights blinking 22:00. "Oh god did I sleep that long" he let out a soft grunt and fell backwards into his bed. The cleaning service people must have come and gone in the time he was asleep.

Eventually he motivated himself up once more and flung his feet over the side of the bed. The cold air from a fan beside his bed brushed past his bare skin making the hairs stand up. He looked down on his chest at the various scars and tattoo's littered across him. He remembered almost every day of his life perfectly. Horrific battles and lonely nights. Hell it's how he made a living, writing "fictional" stories about battles he had lived through. Made him a pretty penny too. Which showed in house.

Damien put on some clothes and called a taxi. "Sure jesus the whole day is gone I might as well go out and enjoy the last of it." When the taxi eventually arrived he closed the door behind him and hopped in. "Take me down to Lucy's on the strip will ya?" The taxi driver scrunched up his face looking perplexed. After a brief second or two it clicked and he pulled the car away. Some people here still struggled with his thick Irish accent. Most people could just about decipher his accent straight away, but there were the odd few like the taxi driver who needed a few seconds to register what had been said. It never bothered Damien, hell that was his best weapon when it came to free drinks and attractive ladies. And he certainly made the most of both.

After a 25 minute down to the strip he handed the taxi driver his money with a small tip and walked into the Casino. He was greeted by an explosion of warm air and noise as people shifted and scurried across the casino floor. He brushed off his tight black suit and wandered straight towards the bar, dodging people as he went. Before long he found himself sitting on a barstool with his hands crossed on the counter. He'd never visited here before, it was nice. He noticed a rather attractive bartender and softly raised his hand in the air. "House whiskey, no ice please"

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
In Vegas it was hard to judge anyone by their looks alone for what they appeared to be is not always what they were. Most everyone was someone else outside of the sinful city's limits. People came here from all over the world to get away from their mundane lives and instead submerge into a wilder and seemingly limitless version of themselves. All for the promises of excitement, wonder and possibilities that the city reeked of.

Jettie was doing this now with her new patron, glancing him over as he adjusted himself atop the plush barstool, trying to guess at what brought him to Vegas. From appearance alone she was guessing he was probably a musician. One of those that sang about how cool it was to be uncool with the occasional raspy blues number about how their lover was addicted to heroin. She pictured him holding some rusty looking steal guitar under a flickering bulb upon a small stage in a smokey bar.

When he beckoned her over, she was quick to answer, leaning slightly towards him over the sleek surface of finely polished cherry to better hear his order. The man's voice threw her way off her original guess. She had been expecting some southern Appalachia draw to emit slowly from his lips. Instead he held a thick Irish accent that left her furrowing her brows as she mentally repeated his words. Accents were a common thing here as many of the guests were from all corners of the earth, just not what she had envisioned for this guest in particular.

"Coming right up," Jettie answered promptly, giving him a quick nod. She had a handful of comebacks for customers that she rotated throughout the night. Silly as it sounded, it helped keep things uniform and kept her from having to think too much. Several times she had been accused of being too chatty with customers, so the simple programmed responses helped keep the interactions short and prevented her from saying something weird and awkward to a complete stranger. Though that did happen on occasion...

Quickly she gripped a flared low ball glass from rack over her head and placed it gently on the counter. Turning slightly she reached for a bottle of what she dubbed to be the house whiskey which happened to be Jack Daniels. She wondered for a moment if she should have chosen an Irish import, but reminded herself that he did say house. A small grin snaked across her glossy lips as she mused over the opinions of an Irish man on Tennessee whiskey. Temporarily distracted by those thoughts, she mechanically scooped out a piece of ice in the shape of a perfect sphere and landed it into the low ball before pouring over the alcohol.

Finishing up the order she shoved her thoughts away and produced the drink before the man. It wasn't until just as her fingertips were leaving the glass that she realized her mistake. Ice. He said no ice.

A soft pink blush graced her cheeks as she briefly glanced at his face and fumbled out an apology, "I'm so sorry. You said no ice. It's just... ya' know... Habit and they like us to use these fancy ice cubes... balls... I mean they're not really cubes, they're more like balls. Spheres, rather..."

And there was that stumbling nonsense suddenly bubbly up that she tried her best to avoid. At least while she was rambling, Jetting was preparing him another drink. No ice this time around and by the second time she said balls awkwardly in front of this handsome in a homeless way stranger, she had produced his correct order.

Jettie finished up with an apologetic smile as she met his eyes directly for the first time since he sat down, "Again, sorry. I don't usually..." Something made her stop mid sentence. There was a familiarity to the man's face, mainly his eyes. A sense of déjà vu swept over her as she struggled to try and place how exactly she knew him. A list of likely possibilities scrolled through her thoughts; from high school to college to past jobs. None quite fit.

Curiosity pulled her head to one side, sending a mass of wavy hair cascading to one shoulder, "Have we met? You look so... familiar..."

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
Damien watched as the girl quickly answered his summons and leaned in to hear his request. Initially she seemed thrown off by him, his accent as usual. He wondered if he should repeat what he asked for. Would that seem rude, or maybe it would be to presumptuous and he might offend her by assuming a mis-understanding. More importantly why did he even care. He normally wasn't the kind of person who really took into account someones perceived opinion of him. If they wanted him to repeat they would ask him. Something felt odd with this girl though.

Damien shrugged it off and attributed it to a pretty face and the feeling of heavy drinking for the fourth night in a row messing with his head. By the time he had snapped back she was just nodding to him and walking away. The surface of the bar was smooth and clean. Well looked after. The whole casino seemed clean and well kept. Normally a casino wouldn't be on his list of watering holes. They didn't seem to have the right mixture of awful music, putrid smells and 'redneck' patrons that he loved to hate. Talk about high self esteem.

Truth was Damien couldn't feel closer to home in a crappy dive bar. He missed the past, an awful thing for a being with practical immortality. The bright lights and chauvinistic las vegas strip just wasn't him, but somehow he ended up here, drinking away his nights and sleeping through the days. The clash of steel and the smell of sulfur where the things he longed for, but those days were gone. He hadn't been given a soldier in almost thirty years. The last guy he got was some investment banker. Damien thought he did a great job making him happy, but it turns out an economic recession wasn't good for business and the guy skydived off of a fifty foot building.

So here he was in Vegas. He decided to at least try one of the casinos. Nothing screamed America quite like a city designed to make money off of the people it kept. In it's defence, at least the place looked classy doing it. He twisted his head around coinciding with the woman coming back holding a glass of whiskey and what appeared to be, well, ice balls. He listened with a subtle joy as her cheeks went rosey red desperately trying to apologise. Considering how central balls were to the theme of the apology Damien surprised himself by suppressing any laughter he was feeling internally.

By the time she had made up a second drink he had tried thinking of something witty to say but he met her eyes head on and for a second he was speechless. A familiar feeling swept over him, one he knew well. "But it couldn't be, could it?" Damien thought to himself. He had never been assigned to a female before. The reasons where rather obvious. He hesitantly brushed it off half attributing it to low blood-alcohol levels which needed to be fixed right away. However a part of him didn't want to neglect it and he decided the best way to know was to spend time with her. Sometimes it took a few seconds to recognise a new ward, others could take days. He knew he had to find out regardless. "Well, we could very well have met before. After all, you are a bartender and I am an Irishman with a clichéd love of alcohol. Or maybe that's your subtle way of saying you wish to know me more". Damien let out a wickedly sly smile, and with a raised eyebrow he gazed intently at the young bartender.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"Oh... Yeah. You're probably right." Jettie replied giving him a smile and a nod in agreement, then quickly realized just what it sounded like she was agreeing to. "No! I mean... You're right about the bartender and alcohol thing. I don't want to get to know you more." That was rude. "Well, I mean not that I don't want to, just I don't say things like that to get to know people. Like pick up lines. I don't use pick up lines on guys." Shit. "Not that I use them on girls! I like guys, like you. You're cute. I like your face. The hair on your face. Your... beard is cool."

Your beard is cool?!

An awkward smile spread across her glossy lips as she finally managed to rein in her nervous rambling. She would have loved nothing more than to silently sink behind the counter and bang her head against the stainless steel sink. Her face and chest felt like they were flaming and likely were the shade of a ripened tomato by now. Luckily the lighting above the bar was tinted red; maybe he wouldn't notice... Hopefully he wouldn't notice... Doubtful.

Pull yourself together Jettie!, she silently scolded. She hadn't felt this embarrassed since the time her bikini top came off at the bottom of the water slide on a middle school field trip. Visions of the dozens of pointing and laughing preteen boys flashed across her thoughts as she suppressed a cringe. Come on, Jet. This interaction with this stranger is nowhere near as bad as that traumatic experience.

Inhaling a deep breath, she managed to relax her smile some and even allow a small laugh to escape her lips as she looked apologetically to her patron. She vowed not to say anything else ridiculously embarrassing... And to keep her top. Play it smooth. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
Damien sat amused by the her. Try as she might she couldn't get the right words out and he could just about see the embarrassment on her face, although the lighting certainly helped her over most of it. Her discomfort was apparent. "Well if that's the way you speak to new customers I can see why all these old fogeys here come and stay at the bar" Damien glanced sideways at the patons to his left and right. Hell, who was he to call anyone here old, he was borderline ancient at this point. At the realisation his smile slid away and was replaced by the usual.

Peering down through his glass his face turned to a solemn pose. 800 years of existence, he wouldn't wish that anyone. Too many friends and loved ones withered away while he stayed the same. He took a last swig of his drink. The sweet velvety liquid burned his throat just the way he liked it. He could smell the last remaining fumes from the base of the tumbler waft up into his nostrils causing him to wince just a little.

"Another whiskey wouldn't go a miss, Irish if you have it, this house stuff is too damn sweet for me. I need something about stronger tonight I think. Besides, I'm sure another few seconds here with me and you'll be fit to melt down" He chuckled and place the glass back down on the table. He was certainly settling in for the long haul now. Might as well drink something worth the effort. Maybe he would get lucky and her shift would end. Either way, he needed to find out if she was really who he had been assigned, but right at this moment he was in no mood.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"I don't usually a' ramble so much..." That was a bit of a lie, but she had to at least try and defend herself from this man's jests. Were they jests? Jettie wasn't exactly sure. He was hard to read and there was something about him that threw her way of her game. She chalked it up to being tired after a long shift. That was it, surely. Handsome faces smiled at her every night, why was this one any different? She didn't know the answer but she was certainly not going to make a fool of herself again.

Mustering up the charm that she showcased for every other patron, she gave the stranger a smile before turning her back on him. Irish whiskey... Irish whiskey... Jettie wasn't much of a whiskey drinker but she did serve it frequently enough to know of a few imports. Though never a specific request for a strong Irish from an actual man from Ireland. Perhaps if she chose the perfect drink for him then she might somehow redeem herself.

Green eyes scanned over the wall of glass bottled liquors that sparkled before her. Under the red hues emitting their soft glow from the track lighting they all took on a crimson appearance. A particular one caught her attention. A top shelf whiskey that she couldn't even ever recall pouring for anyone else in her entire employment at Lucy's.

Standing on the tips of her toes, she reached up and gingerly brought down the heavy bottle. The label read 'Tullamore Dew - The Legendary Irish Whiskey'. Hmm... Perhaps that would do. Turning she removed a fresh low ball tumbler and filled it with a hearty amount. As she twisted her wrist to finish the pour and set the bottle beside the glass, an overwhelming desire to taste it washed over her.

However she tried to steer clear of drinking on the job. Not that it was frowned upon, plenty of the other bartenders done so and even had little competitions to see who could get the most free drinks in a night. It's just that Jettie was not the biggest drinker. One or two drinks of even just a fruity cocktail could send her flying into that happy buzzed state. Too many and she was certain that she would not even be able to hold a liquor bottle, much less pour, serve and actually do it correctly. It would be a mess.

Thus she lifted the glass and placed it before him with another signature charming smile to accompany it. She then rested her palms on the bar, slightly leaning on the edge to watch his reaction. She found herself really wanting to him to approve of her selection. When he didn't give an immediate response, she lifted one brow, her grin spreading in a bit of nervous anxiety, "Well?"

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
Damien rejected the opportunity to have another poke. He let her be as she turned back to the bar. As she reached up to the top shelf Damien cocked his head to the side. "Not bad" he said to himself. Suddenly there was a small little nudge into his rib cage. Shifting his attention from the bartender to an older gentleman to his left he was greeted by an almost toothless smile and a wink. The old man nodded in the direction of the bartender and raised his glass. Damien couldn't help but laugh. If it was one thing that never changed it was the language of men.

Before he had time to think anymore she was back, with a new drink. The honey coloured sitting in the glass perched upon the counter. The girl looked somewhat anxious. She definitely made him curious thats for sure. Eventually he reached out and firmly grasped the tumbler in his hand. He brought it close to his nose and let the smell drift its way upwards and tingle his senses. Finally putting the glass to his lips he tasted the whiskey. Transported back he could almost visualise the Irish coastline, rolling green meadows and busy city streets. It felt good. "I tell you what, that's beautiful. Blended whiskey, but not Jameson. What is it? Reminds me of home"

After taking another sip he placed the glass back down atop one of the various coasters scattered around the bar. Damien turned his interest to the woman in front of him once more. "So, seeming as you don't seem to be serving any other customers, why don't you humour me. Whats your name. Tell me something about you. Drinking isn't as fun if you sit doing it alone."

He looked at her again "What's someone like you doing here in this cesspit. I can't imagine you came for the bountiful career opportunities? Then again, maybe I'm wrong."

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"Tullamore Dew." Jettie glanced down at the bottle for reference as she answered him with satisfied smile. He had seemed to enjoy it but she found herself wishing she would have served him Jameson instead. "It says it's legendary," she added, pointing to the label as she bounced one shoulder up into a shrug.

When the handsome newcomer commented on him being her only customer, she nervously glanced down the bar. Jettie had been so wrapped up in serving him, she had not even paid attention to any of the other thirsty guests. Luckily the other two bartenders, Rob and Andrea, seemed to be happily picking up the slack. She figured it was to gain more tips, but when the two exchanged giddy glances and Rob shot an encouraging wink in her direction, Jettie knew otherwise.

Her coworkers, who were definitely sleeping together, were continuously teasing her about men. At least once a week Andrea would claim that she found the perfect match for Jettie; all of which Jettie would refuse to even meet. Not that she distrusted Andrea's taste in men, Rob was nice looking and charming, it was just that she simply was not interested in meeting anyone at the moment. Between managing costuming gigs, making clothes at home and bar tending, she could not even imagine where she'd fit in awkward blind dates and worrying about whether or not she was wearing sexy underwear. Life was so much easier when you could grab any pair from the drawer without a second thought.

Shooting Rob a playful eye roll, she looked back at the customer who seemed to have just gained a personal bar tender for the night. Or at least until her shift ended. "Jettie. Jettie Greene," she confessed, near kicking herself for giving over her last name to a perfect stranger. Hurriedly, she continued, "I sew.. Like costume design and fashion design."

When he referred to Lucy's Lair as a cesspit, she grinned and replied in playful defense, "Hey, It's not that bad here... Are you accustomed to taking your whiskey somewhere a bit more classy? Should I have used the fine crystal for your drink? Or a golden chalice perhaps?" Her tone was teasing as she lifted one eyebrow in inquiry.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
Damien stared intently at the glass as he discovered the name of the contents within. "Tullamore Dew eh? Well the name seems familiar but I can't say the taste rings any bells. It is wonderful though." He took another large sip from the glass almost emptying it contents. "Legendary? Oh well I bet that's just something they put on the label to sell to Americans" he laughed and then re-adjusted himself on the bar stool to correct his posture which had gradually slouched down since his arrival.

"Jettie, well isn't that an interesting name. Can't say I've ever heard that name before. Then again, there are loads of names here that seem strange to me. You would think I'd be used to it at this stage but I guess you always find names that seem weirder than the last. Not that your name is....weird or anything..." Bringing his hand up to his forehead he began slowly rubbing his temple. Smooth damien, talk about a shitty way to chat someone up. In reality this was miles out of his comfort zone. His normal routine consisted of buying someone drinks from across the bar, silent head nods, an eventual frisky taxi ride home and, well you can guess from there.

This girl was different though, and he was now seriously considering if she was his new assignment. That would make everything all kinds of complicated. He was the worst person, or demon as the case may be, to be assigned to an attractive woman. That's just plain silly. He wondered what kind of games they were playing downstairs. For some reason he was always surprised that other demons liked to play tricks too. He was pretty old for a demon, maybe they felt his time doing the exciting stuff was finished. Was he being retired slowly? Wait, can a demon retire? He found the thought incredulous. Nonetheless he needed to dig even further to be certain.

"Costume design, interesting. That would explain why you are all the way out here in Vegas. Although judging by the fact we are sitting here at the bar it hasn't quite hit off for you yet?" He wondered if it was a case of inexperience or just a saturated market. Maybe she just needed the right break at the right time. Hell maybe she just wasn't that good. Not that he would say that to her. A quick glance to his right allowed him to spot the whispers and glances of the other bar staff. He wasn't as subtle as he thought he was it would appear.

It was then that she decided to play the game with a hab of her own. "Well frankly I'm upset that I wasn't offered any fine crystal or golden chalices upon arrival. Hardly a classy institution if I have to insult the place before i get such luxuries now is it?" A sly smile crept across his face accompanied by a casual but brief wink of his left eye. He was in.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"It's fine." Jettie responded dismissively, giving him a pass. "My name is weird. My mom was obsessed with Joan Jett in the 80's..." she confessed shaking her head causing the bouncy waves to flounce around her face, "When she found out she was pregnant there was no escaping it. Boy or girl, Jett was going to be incorporated somehow. It's kinda embarrassing. And you are right, we yanks do tend to come up with some strange ones. Cars, fruit, directions..."

Grinning, she gripped the bottle again, pouring him another drink to replace what he'd already nearly downed, all the while wondering if Irishmen really did like to drink as much as they are stereo typed. As she done so, she tried to sneak a better look at him. There was still that small ping of familiarity about him that was nipping at her memory yet nothing was sticking. She would chalk it up to him just having one of those common, but honestly he did not have one of the every day Joe type. Though scruffy at first glance there was also a hint of danger and mystery about him. It only drove her intrigue further to find out just who this man was.

Turning her wrist, she straightened the bottle just before it hit the too-full mark of the glass. "I have a degree in fashion design. Not that that helps much here. You have to know someone to even get your foot in the door to the more high profile shows but I'm working on," As sat the bottle back down she lifted her eyes back to meet his, "... Getting to know people."

Breaking their stare, she glanced down the bar to ensure her coworkers were keeping up without her before continuing on the conversation, "It keeps the lights on and pays the rent in the mean time. Gamblers can be generous tippers. More so when they're winning. Or drunk..." She glanced towards his drink pointedly, bearing a smirk, "It's not a bad gig."

His jesting about casino's state of class bought him a genuine laugh from the blonde. She reached up and tucked away a sunny curl behind one ear as she gave him a smile to follow up the soft laughter. "You have my sincere apologies, Sir. At least you have a personal tender...", she jokingly responded. "Next time I'll make sure you receive only the finest Lucy's has to offer... If there is a next time that is..."

Jettie cast her gaze downward to avoid his eyes in hopes to hide another blush that threatened to grace her cheeks at any moment. She had basically just hinted that she hoped there would in fact be a next time. In attempts to redirection his thoughts from her words, she quickly asked, "So what about you? What embarrassing name did you mom give you and what horrible job have you been stuck with?"

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
Damien laughed. "Don't get me started on weird things here; everything seems so alien and silly. Taking your example of cars for instance. Gas, you call a liquid gas! Which gobshite thought of that? The strange looks I get when I go in and pay for 'petrol' you'd swear I had two heads the way people looked in disgust. I'll never get used it I guess"

Pulling back another large mouthful of the newly replaced whiskey he glanced down at the remnants. It was very good whiskey, very smooth. He was surprised he had never heard of it before. No mind tasted it. Maybe he had years ago and forgotten. Although surely he would have remembered the taste. He'd had more than his fair share over the centuries. Some better than others but this stuff, this was very good.

"The age old saying it's not what you know but who you know then? I guess that's bound to happen in a place like Vegas. So many hopefuls flocking to the city there’s going to be people pushed to the side." When she told him that she was doing her best to get to know people he looked up and his eyes met with hers. At that moment he realised two things. One; she had the most captivating green eyes he had ever seen. And two; that he was feeling something for this woman, and he was unsure whether they were feelings of a guy falling for a girl or the kind of feeling only a certain kind of person can trigger in a demon. Separately these were great. Together they might be trouble.

As she broke the intense stare he shook his head and blinked his eyes. "I'm sure there are plenty of people who would like to get to know you." He pulled the glass closer once more and drained the contents lifting his eyebrow over the top to see her reaction. "I'm sure you do get some good tippers, although I can be a mean one. Especially if I know my bartender is trying to get me drunk. That's entrapment you know" he winked at her and moved around in his seat to re-attain some comfort.

"She is playing with you Damien" he said to himself as she smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well if you're offering me that I suppose I'm kind of obliged to come back next time aren't I? And I do expect the diamond glass or a golden chalice. Both would complement my ego just nicely"
When she asked about him brought his hand up to his beard and pulled his fingers through it. “My name is Damien, and I am an author” Very boring I know, but that’s me."

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Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"I've heard that some foreigners find our weirdness to be quite charming..." A smile had barely left Jettie's glossy lips for the entirety of the time that she had been interacting with this stranger. From his witty, or seemingly witty, responses and comments, to the way he so casually threw a wink in her direction; there was something about this man. She was even being flirty. Or what she hoped was coming off as flirty and not strange and awkward.

"I'm sure there are plenty of people who would like to get to know you." Did he mean him? Does he want to get to know her? The thought of that had the heat spiking in her cheeks and chest all over again.

"I'm not trying to get you drunk..." she replied in defense, "If you really are Irish then I'm sure it would take more than two small glasses of whiskey to accomplish that task." The later was spoken almost accusingly but still holding a tone of playful teasing. "And you should tip me based on how attentive I am to your needs..."

Yep, she was definitely flirting.

How was this even happening? She sucked at flirting. She had complimented the man's facial hair earlier for crying out loud! What had gotten into her? She was sober as a judge so she couldn't blame the out of character behavior on alcohol. Maybe it was just him. Allowing herself to be a tad more adventurous with a stranger that she was likely to never see again could be why she was feeling more exuberant that normal.

"You are not obliged, but it would be nice... It's not everyday I get to serve someone both the diamond and the golden chalice." Jettie was trapped in his gaze again. It brought on a surge of energy that rushed through her, filling her with nervous excitement. Forcing herself to look away, she pulled her eyes down to his now empty glass as he went on to tell his name and occupation. Should she fill it again?

"Damian," she repeated thoughtfully glancing up from the empty glass dilemma to meet his eyes once again. "What do you write? Wait; let me guess..." A playful grin spread across her lips again before she puckered to them to one side putting thought into her guess. "I'm going to go with... Science fiction novels. Like spaceships and aliens?"

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by Beeps
Michael dug the heel of his palms into his eyes as he hunched over the small metal desk. Bring the heels around to massage his temples he looked to the clock on the wall with bloodshot eyes. Almost 11:00. The Angel would be stuck in this hell hole until well after three AM. He wasn't sure if the amount of cocaine that he just snorted would be enough to see him through it. If it didn't there was always more where it came from.

Rising, he stood at full height to stretch out inside the tiny office. He should probably get back on the casino floor. Not that anyone would come looking for him; unless something went wrong. Then they'd come running. On an average night like tonight, managing the waitstaff of a bustling casino was a cake walk. He considered himself to be decent manager. He was well liked by most of the people under him and the customer's were not that hard to please either. Give them some free booze and an extra spin on slots and most would walk away cheesin'.

Exiting the small office, Michael stepped out into the florescent lit employee break room. Painted lockers lined the far wall, a long bench creating a barrier between them and a group of fold out tables and chairs for employees to sit down. It was the same as any other break room really. His chocolaty brown eyes scanned the empty room landing on one locker in particular. The third from the end of the line, it's only distinguishing feature was the bright pink combination lock that looped through the slots.

Jettie's locker.

It belonged to his ward, Jettie Greene, He had managed to land a job as her superior shortly after she had started the bar tending job at the casino. He hadn't exactly been aiming to work directly with her, but somehow it had worked out that way. God's will maybe... Who the fuck knew? Well... Besides Him...

After all this time Michael actually liked it this way. Jettie knew him. Liked him. At least he thinks that she likes him. Is friendly anyway. And possibly even trusts him. He's been working on it. For centuries, he hasn't gotten this close to a ward. He was taking it slow, trying not to get too close. He did not want to make that mistake again.

Dragging his eyes from the locker, he made his way across the room and out into an empty hallway. A short elevator ride later, he stepping out onto the busy ground floor of the casino. He straighten his suit jacket and even his tie before mingling through the crowd, casting smiles in every direction as he made his way toward the centrally located circular bar that Jettie was stationed at tonight.

It took Michael a moment to spot her and when he did, a frown pulled at his lips as he became frozen to the wildly patterned carpet.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by conor
"Maybe it is charming, or maybe they just say that to the attractive people" Damien was happy. He couldn't remember the last time he genuinely enjoyed himself. God what a miserable bastard he was. He had more money than he needed, and practical immortality and all he felt was depressed. He missed war, it was his purpose. It was what he was created for and yet he hadn’t been assigned to a solider in 50 years. I don't suppose anyone's ever had the feeling before. Yet here he was, for the first time in years enjoying, his job? Was she his ward? He never had this kind of trouble before, why was he finding this so difficult. It was frustrating him to no end, a part of him wanted to be her ward. However the other part knew that it was most certainly a bad idea.

"Well that might be the case, but you certainly aren't helping me in my sobriety now are you? Although I suppose I am to blame for asking for it in the first place.” Damien was watching her movements as she talked, it was memorising. He happened to pick up on the last bit of her sentence and almost choked on the air he was inhaling. “How attentive she is to my needs? wow Damien mind out of the gutter.” At this moment he could chose two paths. Keep the innocent flirting or take the bold route and see how she reacted. He took the latter.

“How attentive you are to my needs? Sounds like you’re offering to moonlight as some kind of masseuse. I’d be careful what kind of person you say that too, you know lest they get the idea in their head” Well there was no going back from that. He’d either get a swift slap across the face and his night would be in vain or judging by her previous interactions her cheeks would go redder than a tomato and go from there. He couldn't help but let go of a cheeky grin.

“Gold chalice and diamond glass on the same night, you must really want a nice tip” Damien realised he was craving his nightly relief. Usually his nights consisted of heavy drinking and chain smoking. Neither of those had been achieved yet. Hard to ignore ones vices when they are knocking on your door. He could feel the pack of cigarettes pushing against his leg through his pants pocket, but he dared not take them out. Not right now anyway, the last thing he wanted to do was break the conversation. He began hopping his leg up and down beneath the bar to take his mind off of it.

“Science-fiction? No, nothing like that. Although my publisher has tried convincing me to, I’d be terrible at that stuff. No my field of writing is a bit more boring. History” As soon as he finished the sentence he had a sharp sensation shoot up his spine. His face drooped as he tried to turn his head left and right so that it wouldn't seem like he was looking for someone. He didn't physically recognise anyone but there was an Angel lurking around. But whose angel was it, was the more important question on Damien’s mind. Demons weren't liked by Angels, they got in the way and tainted their wards. He also knew that he was part of a group of demons that were vilified by the Angels for the methods he used. Hard to keep your ward pure and alive if you had a mischievous Demon tainting them and leading them down the path of sin in the name of achieving happiness.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"I can't help what ideas might pop into my patrons' heads while I'm pouring their beverages. I'm just here to fetch drinks... And straws and napkins, coasters... golden chalices. Whatever makes them happy..." As Jettie answered, she grinned through another genuine laugh that was more like a salaciously soft giggle. She decided to refill his glass. Only this time instead of bringing the glass closer to her, she leaned in toward him. Her arm outstretched the length of the bar so that she could reach it from its resting spot in front of Damian.

As the golden hued liquid rushed from the tip of bottle and splashed into the tumble, she raised her eyes to briefly meet his before looking down again to prevent herself from overfilling the drink. His eyes were the palest shade of blue she had ever seen. They were beautiful yet deep and alluring. Just looking into them, she felt her body temperature rise and her heart quicken. She needed to be careful. Too much flirting with this one and she could get herself into trouble. When the drink was fully topped off, she brought the bottle upright and looked at him again.

Deep, deep trouble.

But she couldn't just stop cold turkey. Jettie was on a role, she was never this flirty and even if she was trying she was never any good at it. Something about Damian was bringing out a side of her she'd yet to explore. Some charismatic version of herself that men might actually think was sexy and charming and not clueless and clumsy. It felt empowering and seductive. Maybe she would get a good tip from him. Maybe she'd get something else...

"Though I have to admit, I'm not a very experienced masseuse. So if that is what you are expecting, I'm afraid you'll be very disappointed." Another smile graced her glossy lips. This was definitely reeking of flirtation. She needed to stop and now. Jettie could't even glance down the bar anymore to even see if the others needed her help. She didn't care and for the moment she had forgotten they existed.

Slowly Jettie brought her arm back to her side of the counter and sat the whiskey bottle out of site before resting elbows atop of the smooth surface. She tilted her head to the side again, sending her bouncing waves cascading again, "History? Really? As in... Historical novels or like.. Actual history books used in the classroom?" She was honestly interested in knowing about his writing. And about him in general. He did not put off that scholar vibe at all but to know he was smart and attractive only made him more compelling.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by Beeps
Michael stood glaring from a distance as he watched the pair at the bar. Jettie was flirting with the damn demon, actually flirting with that... that scum. Humans were so frustrating. How could she? How could his ward just... Even his thoughts were at a loss for words as he steamed over what was taking place.

Finally his feet caught up to the anger raging inside him. Quickly he crossed the casino floor and let himself behind the bar. He paid no mind to the other tenders as they cast him curious confused glances. His seething eyes were only focused on one thing as he came up beside Jettie. She did not even realize he was standing next to her. It made him sick.

"Jettie..." Michael had had intentions of keeping his voice low and steady but seeing her smile at that demon was almost more than he could stand. The cocaine was certainly not helping his swing in mood either. "Jettie. Your shift is over. You can leave early..."

She looked over at him almost like she was waking from a dream. Her once flirty smile pulled downward into an almost pouty frown before recovering into something forced. "Okay. Let me just..." She started to turn back to speak to the demon as if to tell him bye or get his number or who the hell knew.

"Now, Jettie." His voice was more forceful this time, perhaps too much so. Jettie jerked her head back to him with an almost scared look wrinkling across her delicate features. He hated seeing her like that... But what choice did he have?

She was stumbling over her words now, "I, um, okay..."

Michael could tell he had dampered whatever she was hoping to take place. And he did not mind one bit. As she fumbled at putting away a whiskey bottle, he finally turned his glare to the demon who was perched so casually at the bar. Michael let him know by his aggitated look alone that he knew exactly what he was and hopefully was emitting enough hate and testosterone that the beast would flee and never lay eyes on his ward again. Likely the Angel would not be so lucky.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by conor
Damien was now smiling and laughing along with almost everything she said. So much so that his jaw was almost hurting. It had been a while since he had felt this alive. There was definitely an innocence in this girl, but also something dormant awaiting deep inside just looking for the right moment to explode into life. That would be his job.

She spoke with confidence, and charm. It was a ballsy attitude and a risky path to take, but it was working Damien was hooked. He looked at her face again. Her golden hair bobbed as she talked, it almost looked like her hair was making her whole face glow. He shook his head and took another large gulp of the newly re-filled whiskey. She was certainly doing a number on him. Now he would have to capitalise and drive the deal home. At least, he hoped thats where the night would end.

"That's a shame, I bet you'd make a great masseuse, get all the customers." Damien rubbed his forehead and blinked his eyes a few times. Perhaps drinking at such a speed was a poor decision given the circumstances. It always annoyed him how even supernatural beings like himself still suffered the same debilitating effects of intoxicants as humans did. He was always told it was to keep them 'grounded'. Sounded like a serious design flaw if you asked him. Although there was probably a reason for it Damien didn't care to discover it, he was happy enough to just get angry at it. Hell, it made him appreciate the stuff more. Wheres the fun in alcohol if you can't get drunk.

"No, not like schoolbooks. I write mostly fictional stuff, made up characters dropped in real world events. Kind of a pseudo-history. The characters might not be real but the events and details around them are historical fact. I did try my hand at one or two factual books but I much prefer writing the fiction. It comes easier to me." Yea, it was much easier to write about everything he had been through than make real stuff up. That made total sense. Who was he to complain though, they made him a fortune.

At that moment he was suddenly interrupted. His sense went into overload and he realised this was the angel that he had felt nearby. Now it all made sense. He was her angel. Everything clicked into place. There was no doubt in his mind about her. He was her ward. He let himself crack a cheeky smile before coming to the realisation of what was happening. She was quickly shuffled away and silenced by the angel. As she disappeared behind him Damien mustered the energy to stand up, albeit a bit off balance thanks to the drink but he gained his composure pretty fast.

Slowly he moved in towards the angel. "I know what you are, and you know what I am. More importantly judging from your reaction you know who I am. So lets get the record straight. I always get the job done There's nothing you can do. Remember this is Vegas, the city of sin. You're already a hundred steps behind me." Damien winked and cracked a devious smile. The game was just about to begin, and he had a head start. Now all he had to do was find her again.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by Beeps
Michael waited till Jettie retreated away from the bar before he responded to the demon. He did not want her to see him talking to the vermin; the last thing he needed was for her to butt in when she had no idea what was really happening. To her, this demon was just a flirtatious smile and a promise of a good tip, at least that is all he hoped that she was thinking. She couldn't possibly be actually attracted to him. He looked dirty and homeless. Jettie would never go for it. She liked fit guys who dressed well and kept their face clean shaven. Someone more like Michael.

"Get the job done?" Michael scoffed as he watched the demon all but wobble to a stand. "Vegas or Sodom and Gomorrah, it would not make a difference, Filth." He let his molten chocolate eyes scan briefly over the demon, "You don't know her and you never will. I advise you stay away. Far away. This is your first warning. You will not be getting another..."

Michael started to turn to leave but met the Demon's eyes one last time, "At least not in this friendly of a manner."

With that Michael stalked off, giving Andrea and Rob warning shots not to question him as he passed. Rumors would be flying at the watering hole tonight no doubt. But it couldn't be helped. He could not let that demon weasel his way into Jettie's life. He would not let that happen, Lord willing. And certainly God would not want to give one such as Jettie over to the demons. She was too sweet and pure. Even despite his lack of guidance over the years, still she had managed. Surely it was not all for not. No, Michael would have to behave and pay more attention from now on.

Starting right now, Michael resolved as he made his way back to the employee lounge. However it took longer than expected. He got stopped three times to deal with managerial issues. An upset customer who swore the machine didn't give her her proper winnings, someone complaining about bathroom cleanliness and honestly he toned out most of the last confrontation. If he was going to get serious about keeping Jettie away from the demon's temptations, he would would have to start by quitting this damned job!

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by conor
Damien watched as the angel walked away after his rather dull spiel, melting into the crowd that swirled around him. "What a dick" he said, not having any care for whoever heard him say it. The angels little speech certainly gave off an air of confidence, but Damien didn't fall for any of it. He was clearly threatened by the presence of a demon. Perhaps even jealous? All Damien cared about is that he had ruffled the feathers of the pompous little prick. He could feed off of that fun alone. There were few things in the world more enjoyable than getting under the skin of an angel.

Unfortunately though, the angel had managed to put an end to his evening. Going to another drinking hole and continuing the night didn't seem as exciting without the thought of an attractive bartender to pass the time. He could visualise her face, her blonde hair bobbing up and down as she smiled with rosy red cheeks. And her eyes, damn you could get lost in them. Damien shook his head and snapped out of it. Certain he must of looked like a right old eejit standing in the middle of a busy casino staring into the distance. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his wallet and unfolded it. Selecting a few of the crisp green notes to pull out and place on the bar.

Navigating his way through the swarm of people he managed to break out and reach the door. As it opened he was blasted by a wall of the cool night time air. He hadn't realised how warm it was inside. How on earth anyone could work in there for more than a few hours puzzled him. Maybe they just learned to block it out. The cooler temperatures were much more his style. He was used to the Irish climate. The kind of place where a double digit temperature in Celsius was considered a warm day. Yet he came all the way to the middle of a desert. His own logic sometimes puzzled him. As a demon though it was easy to put things down to fate. He was just a pawn in a bigger game. It didn't bother him though, because the game was fun.

He found himself walking aimlessly down the street. Traffic whizzed by and all the lights of the Vegas strip dazzled with a blinding intensity. It sure was a one of a kind place. He'd never seen anything like it that's for sure. Granted most of his travels had him in Europe up until now. Still, it was quite a site.

He pulled out the pack of cigarettes that had spent the evening squashed in his pants pocket. Flipping open the lid with his thumb he selected one and pulled it out of the cardboard box. He pushed the box back into his pocket and replaced it with a lighter. An old bronze lighter that he got almost 100 years ago from World War I. Picked it up off of some poor French guy who certainly wouldn't have needed it anymore anyway. He fiddled with it between his fingers for a bit and eventually brought it up to the cigarette that was now protruding from his lips. Using his hand as a shield against the wind he flicked the flint of the lighter and held the flame under the tip of the cigarette. A quick puff and he was away. The end of the cigarette glowing a soft orange as he put the lighter away.

The smell of burning tobacco filled the air around him. Therapeutic he claimed. It's not as if it could kill him anyway so why not? It certainly took away some of the tension as he blocked out the sounds of the busy street. So, Jettie was his new ward. It was certainly going to be an interesting story. Tempt her down the path of sin? He was certain he could do that anyway. He'd already made headway before the bloody angel barged in. Her guardian of course, he knew now anyway that he was in the picture. Shrugging his shoulders he looked once more on to the busy road, back to the street and leaning against a lamppost. He might as well finish his cigarette before hailing a taxi. Take in some more of the desert air before heading home.

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Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
As the last of the smoke whisked it's way into the sky Damien pushed himself off the lamppost and dropped the butt of the cigarette onto the ground. The air was certainly getting colder now as he pulled his suit jacket tighter around him and buttoned it up. As traffic zipped by the road in front of him he wondered whether he should go home or not. It was still early, he could easily get some more drinks in. He figured it would do no harm. Better than sitting at home thinking of Jettie. He didn't want to get wound up over that guardian angel she had. Wasn't worth the effort tonight anyway.

Damien strolled down the street looking for the first dive bar he could find. Eventually he turned down a small side street and came upon a door to what appeared to be a cliché Irish pub. As he pushed the heavy oak door open he was greeted by a familiar smell, warm beer that had ingrained itself into the very foundations of the pub. It was everywhere, he loved it. Pushing his way through the sea of people in front of him he worked towards the bar. The noise was deafening as people roared out in laughter halfway across the room and a group of people playing some Irish music with awful fiddle playing and a dodgy bodhrán.

eventually getting to the bar he parked himself on a bar-stool and folded his arms on the counter. The Mahogany surface was ever so slightly sticky, Damien imagined it had accumulated a new layer of varnish over the years from all the drink spilled on it that was left behind come clean up time. As the bartender approached he shot his hand up. "Guinness", the bartender grunted and left. Damien watched as he pulled a pint glass from the top shelf and poured the pint. He was horrified that the bartender didn't even get the basics of a Guinness right. He didn't pour it at the right angle and filled it all the way to the top with one go brushing the head off with a stick. "Irish pub my ass" he thought to himself. The man plodded over and put the glass onto the table in front of him, Damien handed over a few notes and told the man to keep the change.

He left the pint sit for a minute or two and then finally brought the glass up to his lips and took a long gulp of the black liquid. The imported stuff was awful in comparison to the stuff you get at home. It was way off, but he had already resigned himself to the fact that the Guinness they got in America was never going to be as good as the proper stuff.

As he reached for the glass again Damien was overcome by a sense of dread, his stomach sank and his head rang. He knew himself that it could only mean one thing. Jettie was in trouble. It had been a while since he had the feeling but it was unmistakable. "She's getting into trouble already, she might be easier to crack than I thought" he shared a quick laugh before pushing himself off the bar-stool. She had to be close by. He pushed through the sea of people again, but with a sense of urgency this time. It must have been serious for him to be still feeling his senses flair up like this.

Within seconds he burst out the door and was hit by a wall of cold air. He darted his head from left to right, trying to get a sense of her direction. Quickly bolting down the alley he flew out onto the street much to the surprise of people walking by. He could certainly feel he was going in the right direction. As he ran down the street he pushed people out of the way and dodged between oncoming groups. He was getting closer. He ran down a narrow street and appeared once more on another, cutting across roads and alleys he finally felt he was almost there. He heard her cries and his heart sunk, he hoped he wasn't too late. He rounded one more corner and found himself at the entrance to an alley. Two men had her pinned down as she shouted for help, the sight made him sick.

He ran down the alley as quick as he could but out of almost nowhere and old lady appeared in front of him blocking his path. Her clothes, if you could call them that, reeked of some ungodly smell. "Look, if you think I have a problem hitting an old lady then you're sadly.." his words were cut short as his body was overwhelmed by a seething burning pain. He looked down to find a knife plunged into his abdomen, his skin felt like it was burning and shriveling up, it was unbearable. Without hesitation he quickly jabbed his fist into the ladies face and followed up by smashing his right elbow into her jaw. As she fell back onto the ground her tight grip around the knife inadvertently removed it from his stomach. The burning sensation dissipated and was immediately replaced by anger as the adrenaline began full flow around his body.

The two other men now stood up to face him. Damien lifted his guard up and moved patiently back and forth as the men closed in. He didn't think how he was going to take on the two of them at the same time, he only hoped incompetence on their behalf would help him. The first man moved forward and jabbed at Damien's face. He missed and unfortunately for him he had reached just that bit too far. Damien spring at the opportunity and grabbed his outstretched arm. Using his momentum against him he pulled the man forward and thrust his fist at his nose. The following cracking sound even made Damien recoil as the man went down grasping at his face.

The last guy was more of a challenge, he came in with a kick that connected with Damien's chest. Damien was knocked back and when he brought his had up he was greeted with a fist to the face of his own. Falling another few steps back he brushed blood off of his lips. The main came again but this time Damien was ready. Sidestepping the man he thrust his knee up into his groin and the man bent over writhing in pain. Damien then finished him off as he brought his elbow down onto the mans back sending him face first onto the concrete floor knocking him cold.

Damien grasped at the gash in his stomach, he knew it would heal quickly when he stopped the bleeding. Then he hobbled over to Jettie. "You know, dark alleys aren't exactly safe. You could get robbed or something" He smiled down at her and laughed.

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