Somewhere outside of Metropolis at a Truck Stop just off the InterstateIt was getting late, as such there were almost a dozen or more 18-wheelers all lined up in the parking area that was reserved for them. Deliveries coming and going from all over the country most likely. Of course, they weren't the most interesting thing in the parking lot, not anymore. That honor almost immediately went to the
1972 Plymouth Duster that rolled into one of the parking spaces meant for cars. It was mostly clover green but had a sleek black racing stripe along the sides, and two wider black stripes on the center of the hood going all the way back over the rear of the vehicle. It had a vanity plate reading "LUCKY" but even all of that wasn't the interesting part. No, the interesting part was the apparent jumble of circular symbols seemingly painted all over the trunk which any car enthusiast would immediately notice and decry as ruining an otherwise beautiful machine.
After the engine was killed a somewhat redheaded man stepped out of the driver's seat. Between his reddish hair, scraggly short beard, and a green car bearing "LUCKY" on the vanity plate it was almost like he couldn't be any more stereotypically Irish, especially considering he was about to enter a bar to get a drink. But sod it, Patrick Shay didn't give a damn stereotypes. He was thirsty, was planning to rest for the night anyway, and so he was going to have a beer or two damn it! This was all well and good, but of course a little voice in the man's head had to go and try to ruin the enjoyment.
"Why the Hell are we going TOWARD Metropolis? You TRYING to get us killed?" the voice belonged to one Alastor, the demon currently occupying the Irish-American's body.
"Bah, quit bein' such a killjoy!" said Shay aloud, but thankfully in a low enough voice for no one to hear, "An' 'sides, with all the action goin' on around here lately who's gonna notice little ol' us?" Shay didn't normally let his accent show, in fact it was only ever at its thickest whenever he got angry or frustrated with something, and right now that frustration was the lack of liquor in his system.
Shay walked into the diner and made his way to the bar area. He didn't attract any looks or stares this time, which was honestly a relief because most of the time he did. The only look he got was from a young and pretty brunette at one of the corner tables. Of course, even that didn't last more than a second 'cause the man she was sitting with gave her look that made it clear he wasn't happy with her staring at the new guy.
The first thing out of Shay's mouth when he sat down at a stool was, "Gimme whatever beer ya got what don't taste like piss." he said slapping a few dollar bills onto the countertop to open up a small tab, and in just moments he had a good mug of beer in his hands and suddenly he was in a much better mood. He could hear some music coming from a jukebox somewhere, some country western song that Shay couldn't identify. Oh well, at least it sounded like actual music and wasn't none of that hip hop shite people seemed to love these days.
Unknown to Shay, the brunette lass from earlier suddenly whispered something in her man's ear. He then got a right pissed look on his face and stood up, barging right quick over to Shay and forcibly swiveling him around on the stool by shoulder, "Just what the hell do you think your doing here?" he demanded, half-drunk and probably not really grasping his own words.
Shay, with the straightest face imaginable, stood from his seat and calmly removed his jacket, the demonic markings on his forearms becoming slightly visible, "Well I WAS 'aving myself a nice drink."
"And now?"
"Now... I'm feedin' ya your teeth!" Shay, without any form of warning, belted the drunk truck driver and actually sent him sprawling across the room and crashing into the jukebox. Humorously, this impact caused it to play
a different song, an Irish one actually and the kind of music Shay could get behind. Before he could enjoy himself though, a handful of other truckers got up from their tables and started toward him, as if they were part of some union or league and were sworn to stick up for their fellow truckers or something.
Someone took a swing at Shay, though that proved to be an all but useless gesture. Shay almost instantly recovered from the punch and retaliated by proceeding to grab the man and toss him clover his shoulder onto a nearby table, the person's weight breaking it in half down the middle. From there it was a blur of people trying to punch or grad Shay, but only setting themselves up for trouble as he easily shrugged them all off, all the while the Irish rock song played on the jukebox.
It was almost fun until someone pulled a knife and managed to slash Shay's face. Of course, this too proved useless as the cut pretty much immediately healed itself. Only problem was that it happened in full view of the people here. This was enough to finally make them back down and away from him, no way in hell any of them wanted to pick fights with a metahuman or whatever the hell they thought Shay was. Then he heard the all-too-familiar clicks of a shotgun being pumped behind him. It was the guy working the diner/bar.
"Get out of my diner, freak. We don't serve your kind here." the music had long since stopped, and now it was all quiet. Did the guy just have a fear or prejudice? Or maybe he couldn't be sure that Shay wasn't somehow connected to Brainiac? Either way, Shay's bit of fun was over and it was time to leave. He slowly and calmly picked up his jacket and put it back on. Then he took one last gulp of his beer before walking to the door.
Outside, Shay heard a female voice behind him moments after he exited the diner, "Aww, just when things were getting fun..." Shay glanced behind him to find that the brunette from earlier had apparently ditched the man she was with and followed Shay outside, "...you're even tougher to kill than I'd heard." she lunged at Shay, one of her hands becoming briefly covered in fire and transforming into a horrible set of talons. She didn't get very far.
In an instant, Shay spun around, and in his own fiery display a wickedly jagged sword appeared in his hand just as the clearly demon-possessed girl ran herself onto it. She looked up at her intended target in shock, seeing that his eyes were no longer green as they'd been up until now, but instead more of a scarlet red. The eyes of a demon.
"Oh, I'm sorry, were you trying to kill me?" he asked, without any trace of the Irish accent Shay was known for, "Well, better luck next time... oh wait." black smoke poured from the girl's mouth and ears and seemed to be sucked into the blade of the sword. Soon there was only the dead body of the girl that demon had possessed, "You don't get a next time."
He quickly approached the car and placed his hand on the trunk. The marks on his body seemed to react to the marks on the trunk and as they did he was able to open it, tossing the sword inside and then getting back in the car and driving away, thankfully before the girl's body was found and the police called.
"See what happens when you don't listen to me?"
"Ah, shut it. You know good and well you enjoyed killin' that demon girl. So I'd say we both got to have a bit of sport tonight."
