Wowee, a fire. Limen had mistaken it for some criminal mischief at first, but normally you’d run away from the scene in such a situation, arsonist and bystander alike. These mad fellows were barging straight in. 

Now, perhaps there was someone trapped in the building. At this time of the night, in an out-of-the-way neighbourhood like this, the fire brigade would take a long while to respond. Such heroics could easily save lives. The thing is, you don’t need swords and sniper rifles to do any of that. No doubt about it, they were Devil Hunters — the same sort of people who had tried to shoot him down over Baikonur when he’d hitched a ride up to geosynchronous orbit on a Soyuz a few years ago, and [i]again[/i] as he returned home alongside the Perseids just a couple months back. Persistent and diligent workers, they were. They’d forced him to splash down and take refuge in the Mariana Trench for a week before finally giving up the chase. The amount of plastic waste down there would make an environmentalist sad; the critters were quite intriguing, though.

Where there are Devil Hunters, there are devils. That was why [i]that[/i] lot were all over yonder, while Limen the perfectly natural non-devilish being was watching from the [i]other[/i] side of the road. Nothing to see here! Across the street-cum-border, a girl was slewing through the roof, while some bird had dived in looking for a bust of Pallas to perch on. Limen waved hello to the vagrant oniisan with a fancy rock that reminded him of the amateurishly-made body he had first inhabited, a rock was also strangely alluring for a mere paper weight… ahem. No robbing the homeless.

Well, the survival of whoever was getting eaten in that warehouse was hardly his business. The unnatural forces being thrown around were not quite his taste, although the sense of repulsion was matched, if not surpassed by this odd attraction to something inside the place. The cause was evident; it was the same compulsion he had felt looking at the blue-haired bum’s rock. One answer led to the next question — why did that rock have such an effect?

Perhaps it was a lure of some variety. It would explain all the yuurei, and by extension the Devil Hunters here. But for whom, and by whom was it placed? Either way, it probably meant nothing good.

Not that that would stop Limen from trying to find out more. The first step: acquiring a sample. Now, going in would be a death sentence at the moment, be it at the hands of devil or hunter. Nor was there a guarantee that the rocks would survive this battle, or that there would be any left after all the Devils and Hunters had their fill. Plus, the Hunters were being destructive to no end. It was bad for entropy. They had to go, and one of the easiest ways to make the DHA scramble is to let some mundane fellows in on the secret. Honestly, wouldn’t a little cooperation with fellow humans be easier?

Even the bird or the homeless man would share their rocks (probably) if things didn’t work out!

There was a lonely payphone nearby, within walking distance. Slotting in a dust-covered coin which had been left on top of the bright green machine — mistake, or charity? He had to tiptoe a bit to reach it, but Limen, penniless, was appreciative either way — he dialled 110. It was a pity he didn’t know any reporters.

The wonders of modern engineering were on full display as the long-disused receiver sputtered and crackled to life once more.

Limen would leave out the gunshots, and also the big biologically-impossible talking tree. (With fungus on it. Symbiotic?) The Hunters ought to have a chance to preserve the masquerade, and it was more credible anyways. Just a member of the public, a young boy with a sense of duty, carrying out his civic responsibilities.

[color=ffbf69]”Hello, is this the police? I’d like to report a huge fire at this address…”[/color]

At the rate they were going, it seemed like a very real possibility that the Devil Hunters would be finished before the authorities not-in-the-know arrived. Whether that would mean leaving an empty warehouse a little more ruined than usual or a massive, uncontrolled inferno tearing across the neighbourhood for the poor firemen to deal with — that wasn’t for Limen to decide. Better the former than the latter, he thought, as unlikely as it became with each passing moment.