Varshanka

The Breaking of the Seals

Michael de Shade- Knight of the Veil

Son of a bitch! Michael cursed as he fired, his first shot exploding brick as the high powered slug ripped into the demon. Giving chase he whispered next the the magazine, blessing the weapon and the rounds it carried. Firing again he snarled as the round ripped through the open door missing the demons head by less than an inch.

Holstering the gun, Michael hit the door at a full run. Blasting it open like a portcullis. Switching to the old tongue he spoke Aramaic, challenging the demon“Cowardly snake, slither in the mud and muck like your ancestors.” Whispering he reached back and pulled the sword from the void. Smacking his riot shield with thee blade he cast aside the glamour on them.

Jumping the least set of step Michael rose to his full height, Mournblade held forth like he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t one of these new knights that relied on fireballs and witch lights to do his work. He relied on a sharp sword and a solid shield.

“I will cast thee back unto the pit of foul beast.” He swore before calling in English. “You behind the door. Stay thy hand and open not the portal. On your soul the beast will devour you if thy passage is opened.”

Turning his gaze fully upon the demon he smiled. “Face me demon, and a chance you may have. I'd prefer to face you, but I'll take your head from the front or behind. Your choice defiler."

The Breaking of the Seals

Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil

Rolling to a stop Michael slid from the car and popped his hat on with a familiar ease, he was solo today, his partner had called in sick which meant he had the brown bottle flu, or was getting laid. Did matter to Mike, he preferred solo. It let him handle some of the weirder cases.

The funny part was he always grabbed the riot shield from the trunk, but it had saved him from bottles to the head a number of times, and a dozen plus knife attacks. If they only knew why he always carried the shield they’d piss themselves.

The gun on his hip was lower than officially approved but it was within regulation and allowed a faster draw. He was one of the best shooters on the force. In truth he was best, but he made it a point to miss the highest score. He didn’t need, or want, the attention.

He already got enough attention with the weird calls he took. He’d been told to take the detective examine enough times that he was already looking at moving again. He was being noticed, plus he was pushing the time limit. And fuck he hated dying the tips of his hair every month.

Climbing the steps to answer the domestic he figured it was some drunk asshole beating on another drunk asshole. Gender didn’t matter anymore, the city was equal opportunity for assaults and battery.

Punching the door jam he announced himself and held the shield up, just in case someone decided to shoot first and apologize later. Shouting again he heard the slide action and braced as the shotgun blew a hole in the door and a scream followed it.

A shoulder slam knocked the busted door off it’s hinges and his hand slapped leather drawing up as he cleared the door. The dust made the shotgun bearer more of a shadow than a target, but the stance was clear as another round was racked into place.

Just to make sure Michael let the man fire a second time before he shot him. The blast from Michael’s Smith and Wesson Model 500 punched a hole through his heart and made a frying pan size hole through his spine before it shattered glass on it’s way out of the Apartment, and into the brick wall across the alley.

Movement to his right brought his hand up in a black as the other occupant came at him with a frying pan. Why was it always a fucking frying pan? Nobody ever fought with knives anymore.

Punching the pan with the barrel of his gun he heard the shot from the alley. And the stench of rotting meat and sulfur wafted through the broken window. Demon!

Shifting his stance he smacked the butt of the gun into nose of his second assailant and then gave them a head butt for good measure when they went limp. Running to the broken window in the living room he took in the scene below and holstered the gun. A glance back told him the condition of the Domestic and he made a quick radio call before he hit window at a run.

Slamming into the roof of the car he rolled off and with a practiced and oft used motion he redrew his gun. “I see you, demon.” he snarled as he clenched the gun tighter.

The Breaking of the Seals

THIS IS MY ALLEY!!!!

says every homeless bum in the multiverse...

The Breaking of the Seals

.

The School Of Special Skills and Talents- Applicants Accepted Now

@Wayward

This is a college so I'm accepting college students and Professors.

@themadhatter420

Beer pong??

The School Of Special Skills and Talents- Applicants Accepted Now

i thought they were in collage?

The School Of Special Skills and Talents- Applicants Accepted Now

No class schedule equals beer pong in the hallways and orgies in the stairwells

The Breaking of the Seals

I'd do something but I'm shoved in a trunk.... or a car seat and unconscious... someone kick the demons ass and get me to a psych ward... or at least a hospital before the crazy voices in my head make me kill a puppy for the shit heroin gives me an embolism. 😇

The Breaking of the Seals

for me, emo is a state of being. not just a way to dress or act.

Pain and depression are my life. always and forever.

The Breaking of the Seals

no