Mesmund reached for the bell on the handle of the bike out of boredom. The ring was like a weak scream of a sick, dying chicken-simply not satisfying. It was a long trip to Camlann city on an old bike, with nobody but him and his little demon friend to talk to, and the road. He might’ve seen some demons as he passed, but the hunter was too concentrated on pedaling the bike that he could ignore those creatures waiting to be slain. In his mind was a simple static, a result of over an hour of going through streets and highways on the ancient bike he had been keeping for an unknown reason.
“This is taking ages.”
He complained to himself just when the sign to Camlann city appeared in front of him. The man-devil shrugged. What an appreciable timing. Just then, he felt something bulging out of his shoulder. His demon friend’s avatar. It made no sound, but the thoughts were audible in his mind. Usual reminders not to get himself killed, and the questioning of his goal at this city. They may have talked about that more than a few times on their way there, only Mezz couldn’t pull out a straight answer. A random broker suggested? Not valid. Some fresh air? He always roamed around. Maybe it was some unexplainable destiny calling him.
“Hell, maybe there would be the fast food chain of my life there waiting for me.”
He told himself. Possibilities were endless.