Shelly Reed's Story

As Thad opened his mouth to move on with the investigation, a knock sounded at the door. A great sigh escaped the man, extreme agitation in the sound as he rose from the chair, pausing before leaving the room to see what was going on. "This isn't over, Brayden. You're not getting off easily."

Shutting the door the officer opened for him, he checked the one way lock to ensure it was in working condition. Then, settling a baleful eye on the knocker in question, he barked at the paling officer. "What in the hell are you interrupting this interrogation for?"

"Receptionist called in something weird going on upstairs, Chief. Asked for you specifically."

Growling under his breath as he turned on heel, he moved first to the side observation room, looking in on Shelly. "Something's going on upstairs, and these malcontents can't deal with it. If you need another officer in there, grab someone off the floor."

With that said, Kraggen stomped off.

Arriving a few minutes later, he stepped out into the commons, glancing around to take stock of the situation. Dogs going wild at the spilled drinks, and officers chugging them down like it was their last. A litany of curses came to mind, but the bearish man bit back on them, instead roaring as he strode forward, bellowing out with such authority his officers could hardly not listen.

"STOP WHAT YOUR DOING, AND GET YOUR ASSES SQUARED NOW!" The sight of the Chief coming onto the floor was made all the more spectacular as the crystal points on his gauntlets and boots began to churn with a glow, inner lights crackling and flaring with contain eldritch energies. His sharp lone eye ripped over the group, settling on the dogs setting off on the spilled drink with the same sort of reaction to finding the drugs they were trained for.

"Officer's who drank that shit, get in a line on the wall. Those who haven't, keep an eye on them. Leon, bring me that driver passing out the drinks, and the next one I see lift a fucking can is getting slammed into a wall." Glaring at the assembled officers, he snarled. "I'm not waiting for role call, ladies. Move!"

That gaze turned to Julian, softening slightly as he waved the man over. "Mr. Harris, pleasure to see you, but now might not be the best time."

Randin was just bounding up the marble steps to the WCPD HQ, his duster pulled tight around his chest to ward off the morning winter chill. It'd been a long night with Kianna deciding to crash his place out of nowhere, but he had gotten some sleep. His day off hadn't been for nothing, and the detective felt rested and ready to get back to work.

As he crossed the entrance, he caught the sight of the HellHound Beverage truck sidling idly on the curb. Early morning snack restocks weren't an unusual thing... but something about this particular vehicle struck Randin the wrong way. He stopped moving, his boots clicking to a slow halt on the concrete, his eyes narrowing. A familiar tingling rushed through his veins... a feeling he'd known before on several occasions: his earliest bar fight in Gambit's, protecting a young girl from a demon... his drug bust with Maria, taking down a major Elysium warehouse... what did these things have in common...

"Hey, Kaye! The drinks are over here y'know!" shoued one of the cops at the top of the stairs, smiling. A cigarette trailed from his hand, his other occupied with a can of HellHound. Randin smiled, his train of thought broken. He resumed his ascension up the stars and nodded to his fellow officer.

"Lil' cold to be smoking outside, Dak," Randin nodded. The other cop only laughed.

"Not when you've got this boiling in your belly," he held up the can, "I'll tell ya'Kaye, this stuff is great. Fixes you right up. I feel like I could take on the whole city myself right about now."

"Well you do that," Randin smirked, "I'll stick to coffee. These newfangled fancy teen drinks never sit well with me." He quickly entered the precinct.

Randin stamped his feet on the mat inside the lobby, shaking out the cold. He immediately noticed Slim, gently patting the shoulder of another officer who was puking his guts out on the floor.

"Come awwwwn man. Slim's ugly as fuck, but you don't see me chucking my stomach because of it." He turned and noticed the unusual noisiness of the dogs. "What's got the dogs riled up?"

A few rooms away from the front lobby of the police station, a debriefing was taking place between a group of officers and one of the force's recent re-additions. Aiedail, the android who had frequently served as an auxiliary WCPD agent as well as one of the Terran Militia, had recently returned to officially rejoin the force after several involvements with WCPD cases.

She was currently playing recorded footage of an attempted bank robbery back to an investigative team, the culprit of which was sitting in one of the cells below. "As you can see," she said cheerfully, smiling like a child explaining her day at school rather than a police officer explaining evidence, "The suspect's face is clearly visible in frame 2308, which I believe is more than enough evidence to bring charges against him!"

One of the men with her nodded. "That it is. I'll call his lawyer. We have at least one eye-witness statement too, this should be a clean one. Good work."

A can of HellHound energy drink sat on the table next to one of the younger investigators, who was vigorously working his way through a second.

Janet had been doing her hardest wading her way through several documents about a shooting that had happened in Wing City not even a week prior. It was thought to be the same suspect that had shot one of their officers two months previously, but without enough evidence, she simply could not be certain. Someone was dodging around messing with the cameras, and when they decided to finally work again, the alleyways were filled with smoke and there was no trace of the culprit whatsoever.

Frustrated, the woman flipped the papers onto her desk. Her fingers rubbed in circles upon her temple as she let out a sigh between pursed lips, cheeks inflating much like a puffer fish.

That's when a drink was placed onto her desk. Her eyes flickered upward with a look that could kill. She picked up the energy drink with the tips of her fingers and waved it about this new suspect- this fiend- who had the gall...!

"Uh-uh!" she spat, raising a singular finger at the other officer. "No! Who do you think I am? Do you even know who I am? Look. Look at this! Look right now!" She used that finger to tap at the bottle repeatedly with a glossy nail. Her voice dropped to a hiss "If it doesn't include papers, liquor, or a Nutella mocha you do not. Get to put things. On. My. Desk." She tossed it back to the officer and flipped a hand. "Go away, now! Bzz! Bzzz-"

But paused.

Her gaze had been brought to the rest of the room by the racket that everyone was content to let continue. She rose, very slowly, from her chair. The dogs were going insane. One guy spewed. Even the chief had come down to hiss and spit at them. She stood perfectly still, but cast a wary eye at the drinks. Some kind of poison? she thought.

Saiga was in the bathroom during the racket, straightening out the duty jacket around the shoulders. It was her first week on the job, and it was strange, after so many years wearing that worn-down duster, to be wearing a nice uniform. The shirt and trousers fit too well. The vest, however... adjusting it just wasn't enough.

"Fuckin' thing is tiny as all shit," she hissed to herself, trying to reach it through the arm holes. Her chin tilted upward and she looked down at the attempt with a sneer. Her bangs slid right over her eyes and to the side. Curiously, the pistoleer paused in her attempt to adjust the vest and brought her hand up to brush at her platinum blonde hair. "...so that's why she cut it like that," mused the officer. "Needs somethin' though."

The bathroom door opened, nearly prompting the new officer to skyrocket into the ceiling. She had nearly reached for the pistol in its holster. "Jeesus! Knock first!"

There was chatter, and a drink was shoved in her arms. "What? An energy drink? Huh..." She popped it open, then began to walk out of the bathroom. Fully out the door and a few steps into the office, she stopped, the rim of the drink touching her lips. Dogs were barking, people were vomiting in front of aliens, there were a million officers inside and even Thad was in an uproar. She lowered the can, then scooted over towards Aiedail, who she spotted first, and who was close enough in proximity for her to make an easy line to.

"Hey, uh, so... what's... happenin' here?"

In the homicide devision of the police department a phone rang. A black thinly furred hand picked it up "Homicide. Blacksad speaking..... Oh hello Collins, how are things ?.... Oh same old here. Not much goes on in Wing City like it used to back home in New York." John was more used to cracking cases, literally so, and closing them nice and neatly. But then, things got weird in Wing City after he was transffered through some favor trading by the bosses.

Blacksad continued on his phone. "How are things there at home ?.... Oh not too different then when I left huh ? I see.... Oh no, not much here going on. Other then that weird shit at the capital building a few weeks ago.... Oh you heard about that huh ? Yeah, turns out a operative was tracking the guy. How the guy got away from the operative I'll never know.... Yeah, Well make it lunch then. See you." He hung up.

He heard the crazy barking from down stairs. Great, another drug bust and the dogs were all... what the hell is that smell ? Cats had a sensitive sense of smell, more like a police dog, only slightly better. Then he saw it. An energy drink can left on a fellow homicide detectives desk. Great. John stood up from his desk and went over to the other one. Picking the thing up he read the logo "HellHound Energy Drinks.... ah fucking hell, again ?! Dirk! Get Randin on the horn, or the chief either one, and find that new guy, Leon something, the wolf fellow, last I knew when he was on a drug bust that went sour he got wind of something that reeked before it went sour. I'm thinking it might be this junk." He threw the can into the trash, unopened thank goodness. "In the mean time, any cans of that you find, toss it out. Drain it first if you have to."

He heard the chief then clear as a bell, another perk of being a cat, the hearing was wonderful. He raised a hand, "Nevermind Dirk, I'll see the chief myself. See if you can get hold of Randin. Whatever this stuff is, he might know of it more then the rest of us." That said John picked up his sidearm, slid it into its place at his side under his arm, and put on his jacket. His eye fell on his sword on the display on his desk. Without thinking it he snapped it up and slid the cloth belt around the scabbard and then over his right shoulder. His gun hand was his right, his sword hand, his left.

It was time to his see his boss. And maybe. John then left the homicide section of the department and went downstairs.

As Shelly too joined the growing commotion of chaos within the police station, she all but gaped.

"What in the hells..." she muttered at the state of the reception area.

If she hadn't respected Thaddeus as an individual, she might have voiced her full thoughts out-loud, but certainly this wasn't how he ran a police station. Dogs barking, drinks spilled all over, people yelling at each other, vomit on the floor...

She respected Thaddeus well enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, for the most part.

"Please tell me this isn't normal," she remarked dryly.

The police dogs were going insane due to the inherent evils locked away in the drinks due to Mammon’s own ancient sigils. Not surprising, unpredicted but not surprising, as it is believed that the more primitive minded animals feel and see beyond the thin veil of reality’s perception. The commotion attracted the attention of the driver, who had been stocking the vending machines.

He peeled himself away from his job and veered past the corner to stubble into the fry caused by the drinks themselves. Things weren’t going to go well for the terrorists if their surprise attack flopped now, so the diver muttered a few words beneath his breath. All the while acting like any normal citizen would witnessing the events: confused and scared.

Inside the gutted truck Mammon’s eyes shifted up towards the building as if he was looking straight through the metal fridge doors he hid behind. He smiled wide and pulled the cigarette from his mouth between his index and middle finger; The demon lord patted Skylar on the back as if telling him to follow through with the plan.

Skylar Grey nodded his head in agreement without saying a word and walked through the crowd of his soldiers to the back of the truck. Painted on the wall he faced was a very large sigil made with a very dark crimson liquid, but it remained incomplete with the exception of a single line that needed to be drawn to finish it. Skylar bite down on his thumb until he drew blood and pressed his digit against the wall.

With a smooth and careful motion he used his own blood to complete the large sigil. The ancient mark flashed like burning embers for a quick second then faded away. Unleashing the evils placed in the building.

Without warning the demonic poison that was ingested by the many police officers would begin to boil inside of them. Their stomachs burning with what felt like a hot flame that spread from there and quickly into their blood system. As if the poison were alive and they could feel it aggressively push its way through body. A poison that was literally burning there insides, creating holes in their stomachs and melting their blood vessels away; slowly and painfully killing them as the poison from hell made a spectacle.

And while most of the drinks contain that damnable living poison that ate its way through its victims, a few of the other drinks contained much more sentient things. Five officers who had taken in the drink would be lucky not to go through the torment of the demonic poison, their bodies literally exploding from the inside out while large invisible forces burst from their bodies.

The men who were on the verge of death due to the poison through would be able to see the creatures of hellish legend. Large imposing Hellhounds invisible to all but those whose life was soon to be extinguished and the K-9s who first detected the evils. The beasts let out a bone chilling howl inside the building. Running off in all directions to kill the closest living things to them.

The guard frankie who had ingested the first promotional drink was spared for a different fate. When the sigil was complete outside his eyes themselves filled with an inky black ectoplasm that leaked from his tear ducts and ran down his face. The new creature stood up from his seat, unaffected by the events of pain around him, he had one single goal to complete.

The demonic influence in Frankie’s head reached through his mind to find only one thing. The man walked passed all the horror around him, uncaring and stoic, as he made a beeline for the police department’s door to their lower basement levels. He was going to attempt to find the fuse box or the other source of power in the department and shut it all down.

It was with no small measure of surprise that Aiedail witnessed one of the investigators she was giving evidence to explode.

One moment, Officer Andy Darwin was guzzling an energy drink while trying to chat up one of the other members of his team, Officer Brenna Wood. The next, he was spread across the room, the furniture and the other officers. Brenna screamed in horror as her hands shakily rose to the blood on her face. She looked down and her eyes fell on a section of the young man's body that had fallen in her lap, and promptly vomited onto the floor.

Chaos was inevitable, as the other investigators scrambled to their feet in a panic, variously screaming, gagging or running for the door, or a mix of all three. Aiedail on the other hand remained unmoved. Panicking wouldn't get her anywhere, after all, it was a very odd instinct of many biological lifeforms, in her eyes.

She immediately directed her scanners at the drink Darwin had been holding, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Still, her scanners weren't perfect, and it was the only unusual thing that the young man had been interacting with that the others hadn't touched. Instead, she switched her scanners to scan the rest of the building for the substance.

That was unfortunate. It was everywhere. And similar scenes were unfolding across the building.

Adding to the rather surprising turn of events, it was at that moment that an invisible giant dog jumped onto Aiedail and attempted to bite her head off.

The android was perplexed by this development from the floor where the weight of the creature had pulled her unprepared form. The hellhound's teeth were making absolutely no impact whatsoever on her metallic form, but she was impressed that the creature had evaded her detection. It was not to be for long, though. Invisible they might be, but anything that was solid enough to bite her head was solid enough for her other sensors to pick it up.

"There you are!" she said cheerfully as she gained a clear image in her head of the creature whose mouth she was staring at the inside of, then promptly put her fist through its skull. Pushing the limp corpse off of her as she stood, she glanced between the confused investigators with a smile. "Be careful!" she instructed them, "That was an invisible giant dog that burst out of Officer Darwin's body! Similar events are taking place elsewhere in the station, so there might be more of them! I would advise that you acquire a weapon and ready yourselves for a fight, or evacuate the premises!"

With that said, Aiedail raised her hands, each morphing smoothly into the barrel of a sleek-looking cannon, before exiting the room and heading into the corridor. It didn't take long for her to reach the chaos of the lobby, arriving just in time to level her weapons at one of the invisible hounds and fire a powerful pulse of energy at it, punching a large hole in its side and dropping it to the ground.

"Be wary of invisible attackers!" she loudly announced, amplifying her voice over the chaos.

Slim tried to ignore the carnage around him, it was a hard feat, so many of his new comrades were dying to strange invisible creatures that he couldn't see, even with his cybernetic optic. The Scythian made his way to a nearby gun cabinet and tore it open, ducking his head to look inside.

There was another voice he could hear, someone warning them about the threat of invisible creatures. If it wasn't so obvious that some of the officers were getting torn apart, he would've shouted a 'Thanks, Miss obvious.' but at least he wasn't the only one who'd figured that people weren't just getting torn apart by a light sea breeze.

The four-armed alien grinned, bearing his metal teeth. "Get armed! Get armed! Vio'la!" The four arms started to pass rifles, pistols and other weapons at an alarming rate into waiting hands, the mess of limbs making short work of the inner gun rack. "Randin! Catch." Slim said, racking back the slide of an AA-12 and slamming a drum magazine home before throwing it off to his unofficial partner in law.

"Come on, come on, humans. Get your gear!" Slim shouted, refusing to take a weapon for his own. The alien didn't trust himself with a weapon in such a crowded space. Slim would look around for anyone who wasn't armed and make it his own personal duty to get them armed to deal with the threat.

When bloody chaos erupted all throughout the reception area, the receptionist struck an alarm. As it was compressed, alarms went up all through the building putting the entire place on alert that it was under attack - yet again. The heavily reinforced blast doors at the front entrance of the building slammed closed to contain the demons within, and to prevent further from entering from without. Furthermore the alarm would be received by other agencies in the city, alerting them that the WCPD was under assault.

As the reception area was the point of origin for the drinks, the brunt of the contaminated individuals were contained within that area; though, several were scattered about other locations as well.

The alarm had put the security room in the basement on high alert as they quickly went about securing the building as they assessed the situation from the surveillance cameras. The WCPD contained several checkpoints - all with similar defenses to the front entrance. Most of the access routes to both the holding facilities, and the lower levels, were swiftly closed off to contain the threat to the upper floor without isolating people from each other.

John had just barely stepped into the main room when all hell literally broke loose, First it was the reeking stench, And the barking of the dogs. Then people just popping off like firecrackers. Ah fuck. This was just not good. Forget finding the Chief. His eyes scanned the chaos around him. Great. There was the delivery man. Scared as hell. Withdrawing his side arm he moved over to the Chief. "Chief!! What the hell is going on here ?"

Then he felt it rather then saw it. Without thinking he snapped out his sword and spun his wrist. He felt the blade hit something before whatever it hit appeared as a dead hulk on the ground in two pieces. Great. Just great. He saw Slim passing out weapons, having just his sidearm and sword, John moved towards Slim. Better to have a multiarmed fellow at your back then a zero armed fellow.

He spotted Leon not far away. But was more fucused on getting Slim at his back. As he neared the multiarmed Officer John slid away his sidearm and called to him. "UMP this way please!" He spun on his feet, his sword flashed briefly, another hellhound bit the dust in two halves in his wake.

Once John was next to Slim he took a rag from his pocket and tied it over his face, covering his nose and mouth. The stench was just that bad. Not with the dead, but with hell.

There was never a day of a peasceful investigation in this town.

That was fact.

Shelly's time as an NPA agent had left her witness to all manner of horrors that could be inflicted upon the general populace, but few things could lessen the shock of watching people exploding in a bloody mist of gore right in front of your eyes.

She was a veteran field agent though, and she did the only thing one could do in such a situation and still maintain a sense of functionality. She locked it away in that part of her mind to be addressed later. A steely coldness settled over her as she detached from the situation emotionally.

Aiedai's warning of invisible attackers came only moments before one of the hellhounds threw itself at Shelly. The telepathic woman sensed it rather than saw it - an unnatural presence that brushed against her psyche - and she dove clear of its path as she came to one knee with her gauss pistol unholstered and in hand. Her new position provided her some measure of cover next to a desk from friendly fire and it was with fluid precision that she began to empty her own weapon into the invisible entity that had missed its mark. The super-conducted steel 'pikes' fired from the pistol were energized in an electromagnetic field for piercing heavy armor and disrupting shields with their EM fields, but she had never put the weapon to the test against demonic enemies. She would have much preferred an aether rifle right about now. She could only hope the WCPD agents were as well armed as the NPA enforcers typically were.

Someone shoved an aether rifle into Daniel's hands. It wasn't their standard weaponry for on the job with the WCPD, but with the place under assault the armory was quickly being dispersed among the officers - many of which were on par with the weapons typically distributed by the NPA.

Unfortunately Daniel lacked any means of detecting or spotting out the invisible hellhounds as Shelly and Detective Blacksad had seemed able to do. He could however see the security officer walking stoically through the chaos with rivulets of black ectoplasm running down his face.

"Aw fuck me," Daniel remarked as he recognized what was once one of their own guards.

He took to a knee behind his desk and put the butt of the rifle to his shoulder. Other officers were following suit as warnings were shouted for Frankie to stop. Wearing the body of one of their own afforded him a few moments before resolve took over and the officers opened fire on him.

Daniel too squeezed the trigger on his rifle and Frankie was met with a spray of plasmic energy blended with arcane. Capable of disintegrating most materials on-contact, aether's mana-based mixture allowed it to disrupt many shield frequencies while its plasma propellant melted through armor and flesh alike. The arcane nature of the plasma also left it capable of inflicting a great deal of harm on unnatural entities that weren't typically harmed by physical damage alone - including incorporeal or in this instance demonic entities.

Julian had yet to make it out of the room before everything deteriorated into a gory mess. By this point his dog was spitting saliva everywhere as it barked and snarled from the end of its leash at the demonic entities that had erupted from the dying officers.

It was Leon who spotted Julian out, and the officer grabbed him by the arm and pushed him down towards the floor into a crouch between himself and the end of a waiting bench. It wasn't exactly prime cover, but it was better than nothing. It certainly wouldn't do to have the politician shot by friendly fire.

Leon drew his pistol while half shielding Julian with his own form, but he couldn't make out the invisible hellhounds, and he kept his weapon lowered towards the floor in a two-handed grip as he tried to spot out some clue as to where they were located.

Five feet away from Shelly it seemed as if the universe itself was bending and buckling. Was this the manifestation of the strange demonic energies that were plaguing the police station? Or something else.

As the fabric of space and time bent and gave way, belching fourth a deafening crack and a brilliant crackle of brilliant white light, a figure was tossed fourth from the strange hole in space and time. As the figure rolled in front of the NPA Agent and adjacent officers.

As she slowly climbed to her feet, she felt around with her mind as her eyes flashed a brilliant silver color.

"Looks like something needs containment." She said, grumbling at having to deal with Mammon's mess. "Alright then..." With an outstretched hand, a crystal shard emerged from her bracelet, and rapidly expanded into a gauntlet with a fork like protrusion.

In a brilliant flash of light, a full suit of jagged crystalline armor encompassed the woman, bathing her in light and a shimmering crystalline substance. All of this quickly subsided into a metallic mail like outfit worn under the crystalline hardplates.

"Alright, whose in charge and what the hell is going on?" She called out.

Inside the gutted Beverage truck, a few audible, but long paced claps echoed through the back of the truck.

"I applaud your move, Mammon, but do you think something like this is a bit short sighted?" The figure said, seemingly manifesting from nothingness, a surge of pure malevolence, evil and malcontent. The figure sat there in relative silence as space and time distorted around them.

"You aim so small, Mammon, what ever happened to ambition in demons these days?"

The sight of watching his officers, nevermind if some where bordering on the chopping block, erupting or collapsing in agony had a noticeable effect on the hulking figure of Chief Thaddeus Kraggen. Blue crystals flared red, passive going lethal. The almost empty glare he cast John's way was intimidating. "Not a fuckin' clue, Blacksad, but I know what's gonna happen."

"And who the fuck're...nevermind. You ain't shootin' first, so you're friendly." Barking at Marlene, he felt the impact of something on the fields erected by his gauntlets, moving with viper quickness to slam down on the rebounding hellhound with enough force to crack the flagstone floor of the reception area, a slowly appearing puddle of ichor leaking from something that gave one last wheeze as life fled the broken form. "Officers, Director, and Crystal Lady, fall in formations! No more of this chaos shit, we do this with control."

His bellowing roared over the din almost magically, even as his eye caught the hint of gore shifting as something unseen moved over it. Right hand coming up, fingers flared before a beam of rippling crimson light erupted, flashing across the distance like a bullet to strike and then throw another hellhound the length of the reception hall. "First order of business, we bring Leon and the civilian into the ranks, then we clear the commons! Let's move people!"

Kraggen took point on the formation, arcane energies rippling around him as he looked back to the collected officers, waiting until they achieved a state of organization before beginning to move across the room. "Cover your flanks, anyone who can sense these things, call 'em out! Keep a friendly in your sight, and do NOT leave our asses open!"

Randin was gently patting the vomiting officer on the back (the sick man serendipitously spared from his nearly-manifested doom, the poisonous contents of his drink splashed over his shoes) when Mammon made his move. Randin felt it before he saw it, his veins tingling with that familiar sensation. His eyes narrowed, his heart kicking into gear, his mind steeling for a fight. Two times in ten minutes. Not a coincidence.

And then the world went to hell. Men died. Blood painted the lobby in splotchy mists. Screams of agony and terror erupted through the hallways, the warriors of Wing City putting up the best fight they could against the invisible hordes of hell. Those few with heightened or supernatural senses fared moderately well, but unfortunately, the bulk of the precinct was blind.

...but Randin, cursed (or perhaps in this scenario, blessed) with the blood of Mammon himself coursing through his veins, a biproduct of the detective's first viscous duel with his oldest adversary, saw everything. The beasts snarled and gaped at their foes, their massive, blistered bodies blurring across the lobby, piked teeth jarring at their prey. One of them leaped forward, blood foaming from his mouth, lunging at Randin...

The detective had his magnum in his hand before his next breath was drawn. Two quick shots fanned at the hip put out the dog's eyes. Blinded and yelping, the Hellhound rushed madly forward. Randin calmly side-stepped and let the monster collide into the nearest blast-wall. He spun on his heels, holstered and swiftly caught the AA-12 thrown by Slim. He turned and took aim in the same movement, blowing out the disoriented beast's legs and putting three rounds into his head. He was only mildly surprised when the monster bellowed and moaned but did not die. Demon spawns. Only 'holy' weaponry could end these bastards, weapons doused in a special subquantum radiation harvested from a mysterious dimension. Randin was lucky that the Helsing gang had gifted him with a small arsenal of such weapons when he'd last met them. Conventional attacks would only maim or stun the hounds.

With the Hellhound crippled, Randin leaped forward, drawing one of his Helsing holy knives from his boot. Grabbing the mutt by the horns and jarring his head to the sky, Randin swiftly slit the dog's throat. Black, bubbling blood flooded out of his neck, the hound gurgling and whining his last. As the demon's infernal spirit left its host, the spell placed on the beast would be broken, the corpse now visible to the naked eye.

"Slim, catch," Randin nodded, flicking around the blackened blade and throwing it hilt-first to his partner. He drew his second (and last) knife from his boot, his free hand thumbing out six gleaming bullets from his belt. These rounds, dipped in holy water and fortified with a host of devout prayers, were the only substantial defenses Randin had against these infernal beasts. One knife. Six shots.

Don't miss.

Randin ran quickly up to the reception desk, nimbly loading one of his two magnums with the holy rounds. The shotgun was slung over his shoulder. Jumping the desk, he quickly accessed the security logs, thankful for Kraggen's call for order and subsequent handling of the majority of the Hellhounds still loose in the reception area with an impressive display of magic. The lobby was clearing up, the demons either dying, dead or too maimed to move. Randin, of course, knew that this was just the beginning. It didn't take a master detective to deduce that the source of their latest terrorist attack had come from this Hellhound shipment... a shipment that was, currently, nestled deep in the WCPD precinct, buried past several very crucial security checkpoints.

Flipping out of his Caddy, Randin spoke quickly to Kraggen and his makeshift squad of survivors. "Chief. Boys. It's the fuckin' cans. That shipment is four levels deep in the precinct, almost at the core. Whatever's in these drinks, it's letting in bad guys. We need to hunt down the source and bring it down." He spun his magnum. "Targets are particularly vulnerable to subquantum class AG rounds, called 'holy energy' by religious individuals. Last I checked, we don't have too many stockpiled bullets swathed in that aura, but we do have several melee weapons. We should hit up the nearest armory if we want a better chance of defending ourselves."