Skylar Grey's Story

Randin growled at the demon lord as he slyly made yet another proposal. How many was this? Three? Four? Time and time again Mammon came to Randin, some new pleasure or fancy dangling from his clawed fingers. First it was power. Then it was safety. Now it was the lives of his friends.

The detective warily eyed the patient Hellhound sitting obediently at Mammon's side. He looked up at the horde of demons still milling around the lobby, a small smile of satisfaction flicking over his jaw as Marlene unleashed a cosmic boom that eliminated most of the standing hounds. Still, with those cans open in the precinct, Mammon would probably just call more. Their efforts were futile unless they could destroy every last drop of that damned drink. Men would die. His friends would die. Randin's eyes flickered to Mammon's outstretched hand, traversed up the clean-cut collar of his suit to the shit-eating grin plastered over his stubbled jaw. No... they didn't have to die. He could stop it. He could end the carnage. All it took was a handshake... just one little handshake and all the blood would end. For a moment, Randin locked eyes with his oldest adversary, perhaps more tempted now to embrace the greed lord's offer than ever before...

...and then the old cowboy just sort of smiled; the calm, wise, reserved smile of a man who is completely at peace with himself. He nonchalantly unholstered one of his magnums and passively leveled it on Mammon's chest.

No fucking way in hell.

A squeeze. Thunder and smoke. The bullet, though doused in holy energy, would pass harmlessly through Mammon's torso, the demon existent nowhere other than in Randin's mind. It would, however, hit the Hellhound directly behind the demon, lodging itself between the beast's eyes and downing it instantly.

"I have a better idea, Mammon," Randin nodded, twirling his gun in his hand and holstering it, "if you're so eager to send me to hell, why don't you meet me face to face?" He grinned. "I'll take us there." His jaw grit. "In the meantime, call off the attack. Reel in your hounds. We've already repelled your attack. You've underestimated the strength of the WCPD. It's time you and I ended this once and for all."

Randin's moment of triumphant badassery was, unfortunately, interrupted as Kianna beamed down to his side, a mewling Darian Jr in her arms. The detective looked at Kianna, first in awe, then surprise, and finally, outrage.

"What the FUCKING FUCK do you think you're doing here Kianna?!" he roared, "do you not see... the blood... demons... explosions... death... FUCK! Get that FUCKING BABY OUT OF HERE! Why didn't you stay at my house?!"

Too much happened all at once.

One second, everything was going to hell. There were shots being fired, demons being killed, the whole shebang. And the next, just as Saiga had jumped over the table... everything had... stopped. The gunslinger woman looked around, her gun still raised. "What?" she said aloud. "What's going-"

And then that woman, with the crazy armor, who had appeared out of nowhere when the attack had been happening, just went through their level of the department then disappeared.

It was mostly silent, save for a few cries and shouts, but there was only one more shot being fired after Randin was off and speaking to himself. Saiga was so shocked, so confused, that she found herself simply standing there with absolutely no idea on what to do next. She had been a gunslinger in another world altogether. She was good there. Useful there. This... this was something else entirely.

Finally snapping out of her daze at the cry of one officer, she swiftly turned and made her way to the injured Alex. What further boggled Saiga's mind was that he wasn't yelling for himself, but for his dog.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down, yeah?" said Saiga, trying to figure out exactly where the first aid kits were. She pulled off her jacket, then pressed the clean inside of it to Benji's wounds. "Sir, are you sure, ah... you don't need any help? You're a little injured, y'self."

Meanwhile, Janet had lowered her gun, even at the appearance of Kianna, which shocked her at fist, then angered her right after. She glared at the woman and Randin. There were a lot of things that needed explaining. First of all, why the hell did a woman with a child suddenly appear, and why did Randin know them?

What had been going on in the first place?

Whoever had transferred her to Wing City would rule the day. The place was awful.

“Skylar, it seems my friend has refused my little offer,” Mammon said. “And a nice group of cops were able to fend off the hellhounds.” The group of men in the gutted truck all loaded their guns with a magazine and checked their pockets for any additional ammo. Their thinking was that they would soon have to jump into the fry, and to their dismay the cops seemed to be pushing back.

Some thought that if what was left of the police department could push back then they might have a real fight on their hands. Of course a good chunk of the thirty cultists wouldn’t make it to the department fight because what was to come.

Without any warning a police cruiser crashed into the beverage truck sending everyone inside the truck through a short trip to hell. A few men were crushed from the impact as the front of the cruiser embedded itself through the trailer wall.

Shards of metal and glass from the cruiser and the sliding doors spayed the other cultists as the impact sent them hauling against the opposite end of the trailer. A few being hit by the impact so hard their own body busted the metal doors and fell out. The others simply nailed the doors as if hitting a hard wall.

When the initial chaos had ended the cruiser sat embedded in the side of the truck’s trailer, which bent it at a one-hundred fifty degree angle and all but tipped it all over.

Mammon picked himself up and began brushing his suit of the dirt and pulled a large glass shard from his shoulder. Hmph, he sighed as he looked at his body with a disgusted expression spread across his face. His suit covered in blood both from his vessel and his cultists.

Mammon looked down to look at Skylar who sat on the bed of the trailer with his back against one of the unbroken sliding doors. Blood dripped from his mouth as he gritted his teeth and held on his his torso with one arm; Skylar’s ribs had broken and glass was embedded in his face.

The dying man looked up at Mammon and tried picking himself up, but couldn’t find enough strength and just fell back onto his ass. “Well, can’t have you dying on the job just yet,” Mammon said. The fallen angel’s hand glowed with a bright light and he gripped Skylar by the arm and lifted him up.

Skylar’s eyes and mouth lit up as he was lifted up off the ground, and he gave out a scream of utter pain and desolation. But when it was all over he was able to stand and was completely healed of his injuries.

“Mother Fucker!” Skylar said. “That hurt like…”

“Hell? That was the point,” Mammon said. “One of these pissants ruined my suit!” Mammon lifted his arms to model his tattered and bloody white suit and pulled out a pair of broken sunglasses from left front pocket. He threw the sunglasses on the ground and kicked down a sliding door on the crushed side of the trailer. “Kill him!”

Skylar picked up an assault rifle from one of the dead cultists and pointed it towards the cruiser and opened fired. The other cultists who had survived the crash soon getting up and doing the same as Skylar. Mammon standing just on the outside of the cruiser waiting for Slim to exit, if he attempted to escape the hail of gunfire, so he could rip the police officer in half.

Inside the Department

For a few minutes the department was made silent because of the actions of one individual, who spent her energy to allow the police officers to have some breathing room. It allowed them all to feel safe among a room filled with defiled corpses and pools of blood, but of course that feeling would fade away for the officers with each passing second.

There were still a few hellhounds tucked away in the first floor vending machines; demonics energies all waiting for the signal to burst from their cans and a legion loose on the second floor. But that was soon to change.

The Legion split itself in two, separating in halves with their own plan and will, for legion is many and has many to spare to accomplish its goal. One black mass rose up into the sprinklers and seeped into the ceiling device until it was completely inside the pipes. The other black mass attacked the lights on the second floor.

They Crushed, tore apart, ripped, smashed, and pulled the plug on all sources of light and even spread itself over all the windows of the second floor. The entire floor black as sin and as evil as hell itself. New horrors that came from Legion now waited upstairs for any foolish officer that ventured up.

But for the first floor there were still horrors to come as the sprinkler system turned itself on. Black rain falling from the ceiling and drenching the entire floor in a sticky black ink that smelled of sulfur and rotting meat.

The corpses that had remained from the poisoned victims, those who didn’t suffer an embedded hellhound, and those who had been killed in the previous battle began to twitch. The dead bodies rose up to their feet, not by their own will but by the will of what now possessed each, their eyes filled in black.

Some smiled, others cried, there was a multitude of emotions expressed on the faces of the corpses as the half legion had split apart into its different demons. A multitude with enough numbers in itself to animate the bodies.

One of the animated corpses looked out toward one of the officers. “Their trapped in their own heads! They all scream in horror at the sights we show them. And whatever pain you inflict on us they feel as well!” the demon said. Tears rolling down its eyes but with a smile that reached from one end to the other.

With that the corpses began their assault on the officers, the demons using the weapons the fallen officers had been using themselves before their demise. The legion of the evil dead fired guns, clawed and grabbed, and took bites at all they could. And with this assault the remaining Hellhounds that had once been hiding away in the vending machines burst from their cans and lunged into the battle.

“Welcome to hell, Officers!” An evil dead shouted drinking the black inky water that continued to spray from the ceiling that was turning into simple water.

"Yeah well, your apartment isn't much better off," Kianna growled back. "You are aware that you have no security there?" she asked. "Half the galaxy exists to piss on you, and you can't even be fucked to install some decent security?"

Though she might have liked to linger and bitch some more, she decided it prudent to take his advice for the moment. Leaving one battle-zone to step into another didn't leave her any better off. She couldn't fight and protect the brat both.

She threw him a scathing look while she began to plot out some new coordinates, and would be gone in a minute via the same manner that she had arrived in.

---

With Thaddeus having managed to reign in some semblance of order among the surviving officers, Leon decided he and one of the other officers could be spared for the moment in order to escort Julian down to the lower levels which would be more secure.

Leon took a moment to inform Thaddeus of his intentions before he gestured for Daniel and Julian to join him as the trio moved off to get the politician extracted to a more secure location than in the middle of the firing zone. The trio was well clear of the reception hall and well on their way before the corpses were re-animated.

---

Shelly meanwhile remained in the reception hall, assisting the officers in whatever capacity she could.

Slim knew this was how he was going to go out. It was the fate of every Scythian out there, it was how they all wished they could go out, it was a true death. There was something wrong about it though, he could feel it as the erratic beeping of his augmented face as it cleared the ringing in his ears.

It was the wrong side of the law. This wasn't what his race stood for, they were the underdog criminals, not the defiant law enforcers. Slim didn't have time to think as the bullets came his way and brought his extra limbs over his head as they skimmed around him and the car door, tearing flecks of armoured skin off his back and arms, spraying teal ichor all over the inside of the cruiser.

One of them hit home. There was a sound like a brick being smashed as one of the bullets broke though the interlocking plates of carapace guarding his chest. Slim slammed back in his chair. "Wish I'd stayed." Slim choked, leaning forward much to his chagrin to secure the shotgun mounted to the dashboard.

"Azak it."

Slim turned the shotgun to point at the idiot standing outside the car and propped it up on the broken driver side window and fired a conventional buckshot blast his way. He might be indestructible, but Slim could be a hell of a wasp.

Outside the police station, a ways off not far from the place where Slim had rammed sidelong into the gutted deliver truck. Another figure made itself present. The Maia in question first appeared at some distance, pale purple-blue fire flickered on the edges of Slim's vision as she arrived. Holy energy drifted off the massive winged creature. A loud gutteral warning rang clear. The purple-blue flickery firelight moved closer and got stronger.

The Maia had arrived

The trouble she had sensed drew her directly to Slim, the alien creature with four arms was in dire straits and needed help, any form of help. And so the Maia came. As she got closer to the wreck she withdrew from within the core of herself a shield and when close enough, stuck it between Slim and those firing upon him. She felt and saw the darkness and dark unholy energies within the truck. Light fought darkness.

And so it came to be.

Inside the Police Department John's radio chirped. "Homicides clear boss. One thing we're havin' trouble with is the elevators area. Where's the holy water ?" Dirk asked. John replied "Dunno, check my desk, its not the standard to have around though for me. I'll see what I can do from down here. Keep those knives sharp." He turned his radio off.

Keeping close to Chief Kraggen he spoke, "You're welcome Chief. Did not even see it until my sword connected with it. Ugly little fuck if I do say so myself" He poked at the two halves of the demonic mutt he'd stopped from taking on the Chief from behind. He looked up slightly startled at the crack of a pistol going off, turning he saw Randin, Great, the poor guy never did get a break in recent days did he ? Blacksad felt a ting of pity for the Detective he called a coworker and good friend.

But that was when all hell broke loose, literally. With a fast swing and stab, John slew a former hard working officer of the law and in one swift motion withdrew his sidearm and fired one shot, taking out the guy about to take on Randin from above him. "Randin!!" John yowled out in French, "The fuck did you do this time ?!" John was now quite glad he'd gotten those infinity magazines for his sidearm. He coul fire his 7mm and swing his katana and not have to worry of stopping to reload the weapon.

Reception Room

"The fuck if I know, Blacksad!" Randin growled, swinging his magnum around, "it looks like Mammon has more tricks up his sleeve then I thought." He charged forward, shoulder checking one of his zombified comrades before his possessed hands could grab hold of a nearby fire ax. Reaching into his pocket, Randin flipped open his Caddy and patched into Thaddeus Kraggen's comm line. With the WCPD chief leading the bulk of the surviving officers to safer passages within the precinct, he'd been cut off from Randin in the reception room. Now that Mammon had raised a horde of necrofiends between them, the main defensive had been effectively cut off from the reception room. The few officers who hadn't joined up with Kraggen in time were in for the fight of their lives.

"Chief!" he roared over the chatter of gunfire, "chief I'm requesting a temporary lift on the lockdown near the WCPD front entrance! I have reason to believe that the suspect responsible for this hay-day is right outside our front door!"

The detective stepped in front of Kianna, intent on protecting mother and child until she could bifrost the fuck out. With zombie-demon-corpses closing in on all sides, things didn't look good. Randin's eyes darted nimbly around the reception room before resting on Janet Sou. He took half a second to assess her before nodding gruffly.

"You," his voice steeled over with iron authority, "my flank. Weapons free. We protect the citizen."

Where the hell was Slim?

Alex shook his head as someone finally responded to his cry for help. His good hand was drenched in blood from his dog's wound. His injured hand drenched in his own blood. Everything was happening so fast and another attack happened, even scarier than the first as the Hellhounds came back in full force through the sprinkler systems in the police department.

"No. Benji is worse than me. He needs to be seen. I can't lose him. I'll be fine." Alex told the woman as she pressed her jacket into the dog's wound.

"I can't lose him." He repeated, grabbing the first aid kit. He had to stop any bleeding but it was going to be hard when they were under attack and couldn't get the dog to a vet. Most people would have left the dog now. But not Alex. They were partners. The dog whimpered and Alex stroked his head. "It'll be okay boy. I promise." He muttered before pulling back more into shelter.

"Thanks for the help. Do you know why the hell we're under attack or what I can do when I can't see or sense them?" Alex asked the woman. The dark made things even more difficult. It was their worst nightmare.

When the lights went out, Aiedail instantly snapped back to combat readiness. Though her own functionality was unimpeded by the lack of light, the other officers in this area of the building would not be so fortunate, and so the android was quick to adapt. Her body lit up light a torch, glowing intensely and bathing the room in enough light for the rest of the force to work with. In the same moments, she was registering the twisted revival of the other officers in the room. Things were about to get messy.

With a series of swishes and whirs, Aiedail's entire upper body began to alter its shape, swiftly forming not just a pair of cannons as was her standard combat fare, but rather turning her into a fully fledged mobile weapons platform. A pair of rotary plasma cannons rose from her shoulders, an energy-based minigun protruded from her chest and her arms sprouted a quartet of high-calibre gun barrels each.

People sometimes forgot that Aiedail had been designed as a supersoldier, her cheery demeanour and preference of none-violent solutions distracting from that fact.

Then there were times like this, when they found themselves reminded.

Gunfire swept from the android like a storm of death, bullets embedding themselves in the walking dead and casting them to the ground, plasma and energy bolts searing through them or melting their weapons in their hands. Every shot was fired with pinpoint, calculated accuracy as she turned from one enemy to the next, returning the risen officers to their graves by the bucketload.

She showed no pause or empathy in striking down those that had once been her comrades in the department. Logic dictated that they were no longer who they had once been, and hesitating would only lead to more of those still living being taken.

"Chief Kraggen! Detective Kaye!" Aiedail transmitted directly into the department's communications frequency, as her sensors detected the sudden flare of activity in the nearby parking area. "There has been a collision between vehicles in the parking bay involving a police cruiser and the delivery van for the contaminated beverages! Previously undetected human life-forms within the van have opened fire on a life-form matching the species of Officer Slim!"

It seemed to be the end of the officer after he was hit with the spray of the assault rifles, and his time grew closer when a few hit home for the poor strong arm of the law. It seemed that way but the officer had lucked out and was spared from the onslaught of the terrorists.

His life saved by a being of celestial energy much like Mammon, but whomever this being was rang no bells for the fallen angel. He couldn’t place a name on the creature no matter how hard he tried to recall all the angelic names in heaven. Quite simply this was no type of angel of heaven he was familiar with.

He continued to look toward the being, able to see it’s true form no matter how much it didn’t wish to be seen, his own celestial energy different but surprisingly similar to the Maia. He reached into his suit’s front pocket and pulled out a cigarette; only to have it blasted out of his hand when a buck shot hit his vessel’s body.

The tobacco spread all over the bloody stump of a hand and hit him in the face and his expensive armani suit was ruined once more by the buckshot and blood. Mammon’s eyes filled with a thick black goo that teared out of his vessel’s eye sockets; his brow wrinkled in such sharp v down the bridge of his nose it seemed his vessel’s skin was going to peel.

“You son of a bitch!” he said. “First the suit and then you blew my cigarette up in my face?” Mammon looked toward the officer. The force field of celestial energy directly in front of him to protect him from the gunfire, but the field wasn’t a bubble that surrounded him on all sides. And with a single painful blink from the officer Mammon moved at a speed faster than what would be possible for physical beings and closed the gap between Slim and himself.

The door was all the stood between him and the officer, but Mammon had no problem shooting his fist through the metal of the wrecked vehicle and ripping the jammed door to the side. Mammon gripped Slim by the throat and pulled him out of the cruiser and held him in the air with one arm while another gripped one of his forearms tightly.

“Six limbs! Like a little bug.” The Fallen Angel said. “Well my little bug how about I rip some of those limbs off?” Mammon smiled and his teeth appeared sharper from before as his smile ripped his vessel’s face as it stretched from ear to ear. He tightened the grip that he had on one of Slim’s forearms and began pulling slowly. Attempting to rip Slim’s arm off slowly and painfully.

Inside the Department

The officers did not hesitate to keep on fighting against their own personal hell, even if the faces of their friends were the masks chosen by their attackers. Though there would be the few that did subcome to the turrents of evil dead that fired guns, swung clubs, and clawed at the police.

And with each death that dead officer would rise to fight against his companions, and these demonic puppets were like the average zombie. A headshot wouldn’t kill the puppet, and cutting the head off wouldn’t stop the body from attacking, not while these functioned with demonic energy in them.

If the officers wanted a chance to stop these creatures they would have to cut down the ethereal demon inside or make sure it was physically impossible for the body to resume its attack. And many of the officers did an excellent job of this as they blasted away at the bodies with their energy weapons.

The demonic darkness remained upstairs blocking out all light from the outside from entering. And fighting alongside the army of evil dead were the last few invisible hellhounds from the vending machines. The Hellhounds biting, barking, and ripping with their claws anyone that did not watch their backs or were forced away from groups by the demonic zombies.

All struggles look their darkest before one can finally find a sliver of light that indicates the end of the proverbial tunnel.

The shotgun clattered to the ground when the demon grabbed him and thrust him in the sky. Slim struggled admirably, going for a quick few jabs in the damaged eye before he felt the vice grip on his forearm. That made him stop dead in his movements.

Slim screamed. It was the first time in his life since he was a tiny spawn that he had screamed, it was a high pitched screech in contrast to the officer's normally gravelly voice. A Scythian body was hardy, but it was no match for something as demonically charged as the lord of greed.

"Viol'lah. I'll kill you." Slim screamed, ichor spewing forth from his forearm as the ligaments tore, the muscles were pulled and the only thing the pain would let him do was kick with his legs. "Fuck you." If the Maia wasn't strong enough to help him, he'd help himself.

Slim spat in the demon's face and struggled more than ever before. The demon wanted him to feel the pain, the torture of losing his ligament. It probably wouldn't expect what would happen next. The alien pushed himself downwards, shoving a hand underneath the demon's chin and pulling himself free of the vice.

Without an arm.

Slim dived for the shotgun, snatching it up and pumping it with his spare forearm that wasn't a bleeding stump. Slim would then whip around, stumbling back against the car and pointing the barrel at Mammom, he didn't bother with a classic slim liner. Slim pulled the trigger.

When Slim was torn free of his own arm the Maia reacted, first with shock, then anger. Shock at what just occured, and anger towards Mammon. Hot holy anger. With Mammon distracted by Slim, all his attention on Slim in fact, the Maia faded from few before fading back into view, Reaching into the core of itself the Maia removed a pair of swords.

Thrusting one, then the other, deep into Mammons back of his nice suit, ruining the clothing further with the celestial energy of the Maia. Then, with a savage kick aimed at Mammon's back to send the demon flying, she withdrew the blades at the same time with a gutwrenching squelching noise as she snatched up the lost arm of Slim. She could heal that injury quite easily, as long as she had saved the arm.

In doing these actions the Maia was refreshed on the goings on in the world at large since her inprisonment within the soulstone. Now it was time for payback!

John backed up, his sword moving almost like a windmill to protect the Chief. Randin seemed to be the core of this mess. That much he knew. Without a word he fired a few more shots. Man if only they had some help. But what help was to come ? It was just them, locked in and fighting against demons from hell. So, the only answer was to fight fire with fire. Being a cat, Blacksad was practially immune to demons and lost souls. Some might have said he did not possess a soul himself. But he had a sense of honor, and he upheld that honor no matte the cost.

Even if it cost him his own life.

So his task was now very simple. Defend the WCPD to his dying breath. And beyond if he had to. And when it was over, corner Randin, get answers, in that order.

It was easier said then done.

“Got it!” Janet shouted toward Randin, booking it toward the detective, weapon in hand. She skidded, in her heels, to a stop at his flank, blasting away any monstrosity that dared to come close. Janet wasn’t the best shot, but she was quick and fierce and fearless. It was doubtful that anything would get close enough to harm either of them. She never flinched. Not once.

------------------

Saiga tried to raise the dog’s head off of the blood-flooded ground and onto her lap to keep him off of the nasty substance. “Hey, it’s alright,” she told Alex. “It’s a bit weird, but it looks like you really like this pup. He’s gonna live, promise. We’ll get through… this…”

She nearly dropped her coat when she witnessed their dead comrades rising.

“Shit. It ain’t over!”

Thaddeus roared as the fresh onslaught began, taking stock of the situation as the dead rose and began to attack once again. Glaring at Randin, he shouted over the din. "Front door only! Get his idiot ass inside and then lock it back down, we've got enough shit to handle in here!"

He couldn't be more proud of his officers at the moment, and he responded in kind, focusing the energies of his own gauntlets and throwing blast after concussive blast into the now enemy crowd, bursts of force tearing into the turned ranks with the effectiveness of controlled grenades. Throwing his bursts into the rearward clusters of zombies, he glanced closer for a moment in time to intercept a lurching possessed dead in a vice grip, lifting it overhead to come crashing down, splatting most of the upper torso into so much gore with a slam enhanced by his equipment.

"Thanks John, you're welcome John!" Bellowing as his blood was up, the WPCD chief continued to tear in the fray, stray rounds deflecting off a field that was beginning to lose its cohesion from the numerous volume of impacts.

Alexander had no idea how to fight the undead. This wasn't his specialty so all he could was shoot at whatever was heading their way several times before trying to see back to his dog. But he was no vet. He just had to keep Benji sheltered and safe, keep pressure on the bleed and make sure that the dog survived.

"He's my partner. He's surviving. It's no different to being partnered with another officer. He's my best friend. It's not his time to go yet."

BANG! BANG!

Alex shot once more at one of their dead comrades that were coming for them.

"This shit needs to stop. How the fuck are we supposed to stop them?" Alex growled. "I need to get Benji out of here and to a vet!"

Reception Room

With magnums thundering in his hands, Randin stood by Janet, blasting down the hordes of zombified corpses until Kianna and baby managed successful escape. He grunted as Kraggen gave him permission to briefly lift the lockdown at the front doors.

"Good work, officer," Randin nodded to Sou, "now get back to the main formation. I'll handle things from here." Racing to the re-enforced door, the detective briefly entered a few access codes into the nearby terminal. Lights flashed as the external shields briefly powered down and the massive impervium doors retracted ever-so-slightly.

Precinct Exterior

The crisp morning light quickly enveloped Randin as he stormed out into the chilly precinct exterior. His magnum, loaded with holy rounds, was trained in his hand. He blinked twice as he struggled to adjust to the drastic change in lighting, quickly catching sight of Slim near a damaged squad car, struggling with what appeared to be Mammon in his favorite incarnation. The demon lord had him by the throat. Thing's didn't look good, but at least Slim appeared more or less-

And then he ripped his fucking arm off.

Shock and rage took Randin as he watched Slim literally push back against Mammon, willingly allowing his own arm to be wretched free in order to reach the shotgun. This was bad. This was very, very bad. If Scythians anatomy was anything like a humans, then Slim would need medical attention fast or risk bleeding to death. Was there a medkit in the cruiser? Maybe he could go back and get help from one of the doctors in the precinct? Was he better off tying Slim's wound off with his belt? Questions and scenarios swirled through Randin's head, mingled with the sharp, stinging fear of imminent loss. Slim was Randin's friend and partner. He didn't want him to die. Not here. Not like this.

But then Randin's eyes snapped up at Mammon. A rage like ice water coursed through his veins. There was no way he could help Slim so long as this demon-bastard was still on the field. Leveraging his gun, Randin loosed two holy rounds both the demon lord's legs directly after Slim blasted at him point-blank through the chest with his shotgun. The detective looked vigilantly around the area for Mammon's accomplices and would shoot at them as well if they presented themselves as threats. For the most part, however, he was concerned with Mammon, the source of all this pain.

The now three armed cop made a move that did throw the demon lord for a loop, and that was how he was able to get away in the fashion that he did. But he had no time to worry about the mortal’s incoming attack, it was only a shotgun blast that he could heal later.

The Maia made it’s move, and Mammon drew his own angelic blades to deflect the creature’s attack. But unfortunately Randin came in and blasted at Mammon’s legs with two holy rounds.

Mammon groaned in agony as the bullet’s found their targets, and caused the demon lord to stumble over himself as the two Maia blades came at him. But he was able to deflect one of the blades completely off course. The other tore into the Mammon’s side and cut him down to his true self behind the meat suit. Then came the kick that sent him flying.

He hit the wall rather hard and looked at the mangled body. Mammon didn’t have the time to fight both Randin with his holy ammo and a being of celestial energy like himself. He quickly healed his vessel’s wounds, but he was still suffering from his own on a celestial level.

Skylar looked off towards his boss and ripped his own shirt off. On his chest, painted in blood, was Mammon’s incomplete angelic sigil. Skylar bite down on his thumb and finished the sigil with his own blood.

After Skylar had completed the sigil Mammon’s vessel’s eyes glowed brightly. The vessel screamed in pain as the light that emitted soon exited out it’s mouth and ears as well. And soon Skylar’s own eyes, ears, and mouth emitted the same light that the vessel was emitting. The Sigil teleporting Mammon into a different meat suit without having to risk getting hit in his true form.

Mammon looked down at his new body and quickly made a run for it. The new Mammon unfolding six angelic wings and jetting away at a speed that was close to teleportation itself. And with him gone from the field the chaos itself in the department would end.

The demons that were left all left their possessed victims and seeped into the floor. The Legion upstairs returning to it’s black mist like form and seeping out the windows and away from the department. The Hell in the department had finally ended.

All that was left was the men and women left alive who worshipped the Demon Lord of Greed, but the officers would see that they would give up without a fight with their master gone. Throwing their weapons on the ground, getting to their knees, and putting their hands behind their heads.

But as for Mammon’s vessel that he left behind. That was also left behind and he soon opened his eyes and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Help me!” he said. “Help me, please! No More...I can’t take anymore of these fake realities!” The man thrashed around and pulled at his own hair. Ted Ellison was a broken man but he was finally free.

"Oh. Zanav." Slim breathed, pushing himself up from the ground and threading the shotgun over his left pair of shoulders, the alien wrenched itself back and threw down his head in a vicious metal headbutt towards the old shell of Ted Ellison. The whining, mewling man wasn't missing an arm, it wasn't his place to cry yet.

Slim lived to regret it though, having three arms really messed with his inner sense of balance and he toppled over onto the asphalt, the ichor had thickened up and the bleedout process had been stopped considerably, but it was still lethal if he didn't get to a surgeon ASAP.

The Scythian righted himself and dragged his butt behind and leaned his back against the wreck of his cruiser, letting his eyes flutter between closed and open.

Randin grinned with carnal satisfaction as Mammon was driven off under the combined force of three different attacks. The screaming and explosions rocketing inside the department came to a chilling halt as the possessive energies left the precinct. Once again, the demon lord had been defeated.

The detective frowned. No. Not defeated. Driven off. Forced into a retreat. He'd be back. Next time, perhaps, with bigger armies, with broader schemes... and with him would come even more widespread death, destruction and chaos. As Randin holstered his magnums in the misty wake of the battle's aftermath, he found himself swearing to bring the Demon Lord of Greed to justice once and for all. It was not the first time he'd taken such an oath. He prayed it would be the last.

Bounding into action, the detective ran first to Slim, determined to help his friend first and foremost. He looked warily at the cultists kneeling in submission on the street and at the recently-freed Ted Ellison writhing on the asphalt. His brows knit. Had there been a real man beneath Mammon's favorite facade this whole time?

"Slim!" he shouted, racing to the torn-open police cruiser and quickly taking inventory of the alien's condition. The blood was clotted somehow, thank God. "Slim you goddamn... cocksucking..." A flurry of emotions raced through Randin's head. Most of them came out of his mouth as profanities. "...cunt-mongering... bitchfucking...." He sprang into the car, opening the dashboard and retrieving a medkit. "That was absolutely... reckless... fucked up..." His spat the words out with livid anger as he removed a canister from the kit and began spraying biofoam on Slim's stump. "This is exactly, EXACTLY..."

'What I would have done.'

The realization hit Randin like a sucker punch. Good God. This was EXACTLY the sort of action-movie heroism that was so commonplace in Randin's everyday life. Fighting insurmountable odds... charging evil head-on despite near-certain death. On one hand, he was furious at Slim for making such a foolhardy advance against Mammon without backup. On the other hand, he was absolutely in awe of the Scythian's courage.

"You're just..." Randin shook his head, his heavy tone softening slightly, "...you're just a goddamn..." He shook his head. Just a goddamn hero.

A small squad of officers quickly followed Randin. Though beaten and battered from their battle with hell's legions, they nonetheless rounded up the surrendering terrorists with remarkable efficiency.

"Hands in the air!" one of them shouted to Ted Ellison.

Randin turned and watched Ellison out of the corner of his eye.

The Maia, now convinced the threat was gone. Went to where Slim laid against the cruiser, holding h is severed arm in one hand, the mystical creature went to the aliens' side and carefully took in his injury. "Don't move" the strange creature said. She then clasped Slims injured shoulder in one hand, and with the other she lifted the severed arm, and gently, yet with enough pressure to prove painful, rejoined the severed appendage. Putting her healing magic to work.

The only problem was if Slim was going to remain still long enough for the healing to run its course.

The other problem was that the Maiar spirit was recently woken up to her true powers.

Inside the station hell literally came to a halt. Well, this was something indeed. John took in the carnage, a shit load to clean up he could see that clearly. his radio chirped. "Dagger to Fondue Fork" The voice of Dirk said from upstairs at Homicide "Alls quiet and clear up here. " John smiled, well, the gang was safe, his team was safe, that was what counted as far as he knew.

He turned to the Chief, The man seemed more or less at a tense ease. John knew not to relax too soon. But this was something else indeed. He knew there was something weird in the energy drinks, but there was no idea for sure what exactly there was in the things.