Bloodlust IV

Sometimes Irwin could not help but question his luck. If it were any other circumstance, he would have thrown it to blind luck. But the very fact that just as he decided to employ Gordon Walker into his faction, a quest from his Great Hunter System would appear.

"Free will." He muttered emotionally, gazing at the floating clouds that hid the wonders of this world. "I suppose it doesn't matter since I'm going to defy you later on. Team Free Will, baby!"

He activated his system and chose Quest.

[ Character | Skill | Supernatural Record | Status | Quest (!) | Trade Shop ]

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Active Quests: 01/02

Completed Quests: 01/02

Failed Quests: 00/02 

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Quest Name: Rise Of The Underlings

Quest Type: Chain Mission | Main Story

Quest Description: A war is coming. The likes of which none have seen before. Luckily for you, the Greythornes have more than enough resources to tide over the oncoming storm. It is now up to you to use that resources to turn the tide of battle into your favor! But, first, like any other faction, you must have soldiers. Those that are capable, cunning, and, most importantly, trustworthy.

Quest Objective: Employ/Mentor 1/5 Characters From The Original Television Show

Quest Reward: Colt Bullet Creation Ritual (1x); Expandable Enochian Devil Trap (2x)

Accept Quest: Y/N 

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With a resolute heart, Irwin chose, "Yes!"

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[Quest Accepted!]

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Irwin gazed at the farmhouse that served as a vampire's nest. He could see a few blood splatters on the outside walls, as well as smell a rancid odor that emanated from the nearby fields.

He stepped onto the porch and found the door locked, as had the Winchesters said. With a giant grin upon his face, Irwin bent his knee upwards and gave a forceful kick directed at the door's handle.

With a minuscule BANG! the door flew open, revealing the horrified gaze of a tied-up Gordon Walker. The dark-skinned man with a bloodied cheek was still trapped in the chair, facing the ceiling awkwardly.

With a cheeky smile, Irwin scanned the dilapidated room. "Oh, man! If I hadn't arrived here, you would've been here for days."

"Who the fuck are you?" The startled man growled, much to Irwin's amusement.

'Yep, keep that anger, buddy. You're gonna do great!' Irwin silently cheered as he gazed at the man's awkward form.

"To hunters? I'm their saviour. To monsters? I'm their death. To demons? I'm God's right-hand man." He gave a vicious smile, enjoying kicking the man on his lowest day. "To you? I'm a judge, jury, and executioner. So, tell me, Gordon Walker, are you guilty?" 

As he spoke, Irwin released a bit of his magik; causing the remaining unsullied furniture to creak and bang against each other as if trying to break free from their inanimate form.

"You're a fucking witch!" Gordon deduced through gritted teeth, hurrying his removal of his tied-up hands. "Did the Winchesters sent you to kill me? I knew they didn't have the balls!"

"Relax, Christoper Darden!" Irwin rolled his eyes at the man's apparent prejudice and sexism. "Also, we're called Warlocks."

"Krousurgy." Irwin activated his skill, feeling the very air around whipping into something more corporeal. A tangible feeling of control amidst a storm of chaos pervaded his senses as he locked his this air onto a large scrap of glass on the far right side of the room. He slowly but steadily brought the glass into the air and fly it towards to the now-sweating form of Gordon Walker.

"You motherfucking witch! I'm gonna haunt your ass if you kill me!" Gordon roared in anger and sorrow before a whisper of a breaking rope tingled his senses. As an experienced hunter, Gordon didn't let the momentary reprieve affect his face's expression. His gaze roaming the room for any hint of a weapon before settling on his machete not mere inches away from him.

Gordon followed the glass as it flew towards his feet before it accelerated and struck the wooden leg that restrained his feet.

With a hard CRUNCH! splinters of wood scattered around the room as Gordon found himself free of his confinement. 

Irwin released his grip upon the winds of the world, his senses retreating at a faster pace. The magik around him, once wild and chaotic, returned to its serene state as if undisturbed by the order of the world.

Although It wasn't the first time he had used the skill, mostly in a controlled environment, this circumstance allowed him to test his skill in finesse and precision. One that, if given a score, he passed with flying colors; it seems. 

"I ain't here to kill you, Gordon." Irwin said as Gordon rolled back to his knees, hurriedly grabbed his machete and aimed the blade towards the former.

"Like I'll believe you?" Gordon stood up, blade still in guarding position. He tried to back up, but found no more room to move. "Guess the Winchesters are too much of a pussy to kill me, huh?"

"Relax, will you? I could've killed you with that glass." Irwin rolled his eyes at the man's aggression.

"Yeah, why didn't you?" Gordon asked, lowering the blade but still keeping it within heart's reach.

"Are you hungry? There's a Popeyes in town?"

●●●Popeyes Chicken & Biscuits, Red Lodge●●●

"Never really get the deal with this chain. Spicy chicken isn't spicy, tenders feel like potato mush, and... *Slurp*... what the fuck is this milkshake?"

Gordon Walker had never seen such a greater a whiner than Richard Greythorne. The man had been bitching about his food for ever since the staff had brought over their orders.

"Will you shut the fuck up about the food for once?" He requested, keeping his annoyance in check. 

"Oh, sorry about that. How's your Cajun rice?"

"Good. Not better than a homemade one, but good enough."

"I guess that's their motto,' 'It's good enough!'" Richard complained once more, earning a glare from Gordon. "Fine. Let's talk business."

"Go on, then."

"Don't make it obvious. But, see that man in a wide-brimmed hat?" Richard finished his milkshake and used the straw to point sneakily at the man queueing up to order. Seeing Gordon nod in confusion, he continued. "Well, I saw that man when I was in New England. Now, he's here. Coincidence?"

 "Ain't no such thing as a coincidence." He replied resolutely. He reached for the gun trapped between his waist. "What are you gonna do, Uncle Arthur?

"Jesus, how old are you, man?" Richard cringed at Gordon's pop culture references. "Just follow my lead."

Richard dusted off his well-tailored suit that must have costed a small fortune if Gordon's senses were to be trusted, which it was, and walked towards the hatted man with gusto. He took a small caliber Glock off his holster and aimed it pointblank at the man. His other hand reaching for his badge.

"FBI! Don't fucking move!" He roared, startling the surrounding costumers. The man, to Gordon's surprise, didn't even look in Richard's direction, much less flinch from the barrel touching his head. "I want everyone to slowly and orderly... leave the premises. I repeat: slowly and orderly, leave the premises."

Richard waved his badge around, causing the civilians to quickly leave the restaurant. The manager of the establishment even helped with the staff and cooks to use the back entrance.

Soon, only Richard, Gordon, and the man with the hat remained on the premises. Richard even ordered Gordon to check the backrooms, which the latter did and found no one.

"It's clear!" Gordon reported, eyeing the man with the hat who, through all the commotion, had a strange smile on his face. "What the fuck are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing. Just the fragility of life, I suppose." The man spoke in a gravelly tone. As if he was speaking from the other end of a tunnel.

Gordon saw Richard's eyes went wide as soon as he heard the voice. Richard said, "Christo!"

For the first time since the beginning of this ordeal, the man revealed his true form. Black viscous fluid slowly dripped from every visible orifice as the man flinched from hearing the name of God. The man's- no, demon's- facade crumbled in front of the two hunters as cracks began to appear in its face, outlining the vessel's timeworn condition.

The demon roared, showcasing its hideous molars. "Let's dance!"

"Fuck no!" Richard responded, firing off his gun. The bullet his pointblank, rearing off his head a few centimeters to the side.

Gordon held down the urge to celebrate, for he knew a demon of this caliber would not go down with a single gunshot to the head.

Just as he predicted, the demon merely smiled at the crimson liquid that came out of the hole in its head. "Kids these days really are dumb!"

Richard took a more relaxed tone after the gunshot as he moved back towards the nearby chair. "Not all of them. Gordon, bud, why don't you do me a favor and bring me a soda?"

"Why don't I also cook some chicken while the goddamn demon beats your ass to hell!" Gordon yelled the last part out, flipping the safety off his revolver and unloading all six bullets at the still form of the demon.

The demon intended to walk past the bullets, but soon found itself unable to as six ear-deafening BANGS! hit it square in the torso. The echoes of the gunshot rang around the empty restaurant as blood dripped out of the bullet holes. "What's happening? What the fuck did you do?"

"Devil's Trap Bullets." Richard smirked, crossing his arms in a humble bow. "You can't move in place, but you can use your telekinesis to remove it. Although you'd need to be very... very powerful. Which, I doubt, you are."

The demon's eerie void-like eyes trembled like it was pushing out a month late fetus, but ceased to move nary a single muscle in its worn and torn vessel. It began to cackle as it understood the futility of movement. 

"Why is it laughing?" Gordon asked, heart thumping at the sight of a clearly restrained demon. He had dealt with a few of them, mostly half-baked possessions from demons that just clawed their way out of hell, but never had he seen a man tangle with a demon whose corrupted soul has fully adjusted into his meat puppet.

"Because it still thinks it has a card to play," Richard replied, looking at him with a hopeful gaze. "Soda?"

"Go get it yourself." He responded to the request as he brought a chair in front of the demon and took a seat. "I rarely get a heart-to-heart talk to evil motherfuckers like you. So, I'll just take this as a... learning opportunity."

"You don't know who you're dealing with!" The demon spat, sinewy black fluid sinuously flows out of its mouth. "I serve at the behest of a master-"

"Christo!" Richard yelled from within the kitchen.

"ARGH! Cut that shit out!" The demon protested. Smoke billows forth from his meat puppet's rotting pores.

"Look, we have ten minutes until pigs show up in this place, maybe less if Charles Heston over there wasn't so trigger-happy," Gordon prefaced, turning his chair so he can rest his arms over its back.

"My bad." Richard added once more, returning from the kitchen holding a tray of Cajun chicken and another tray full of sodas. "Demon, tell him about the war."

The demon scoffed at the order, but heeded regardless. It needed time to formulate a plan to escape his vessel and kill the two lest the hunters send it back to the worst place in the entire universe: its home.

It began with a cackle, "HAHA~ The war to end all war-"

"No! I should've specified. My fault." Richard interrupted, sighing as he finished his second chicken. "Tell him about why you've been following me."

"It was an order passed down from the very top."

"How top?" Gordon asked.

"Prince of Hell." Richard answered for the demon, a smirk on his face. "So, that yellowed-eyed bastards set their eyes on me?"

"You sent one of his higher agents home. The witch dealer, Beleth." The demon spat his kin's name in a venomous tone. "Dented a portion of his operations."

"So, just like that Azazel sent you to spy on him?" Gordon was confused about the matter. "How could they know it was you?"

"They can communicate using human blood." Richard informed him. "Is that all the orders? Spy on me?"

"Of course not, you're not that special!" The demon rolled its eyes in such a dramatic fashion that Richard shot him in the head once more. "Will you stop doing that!?"

"Stop lying, then." Richard responded. "Now tell him what you know about Azazel's plan."

"So, you know about the Special children too? We already have eyes on most of them. You humans really are easily corruptible, just one push... and they'll be ours" The demon laughed grimly, face straining in a barely disguised attempt to remove the bullet in its head.

"It's already started." Gordon heard Richard's muttering but paid it no mind for if he guessed his intentions right, then he would have a chance to ask in the future.

He merely asked for a clarification. "Special Children?"

"Newborn babies from 1983. Dropped with Azazel's blood on their 6th month." Richard supplanted with a snicker. "Nasty stuff."

"His lordship created dozens of children." The demon noticed Gordon urging another question and gave an answer. "They aren't just regular demonic children. They have abilities that not even I could-"

"Christo!" Richard interrupted, much to the demon's frustration. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. The children are your messiah. What else is new? Do you know their location?"

"Why would I tell you that?" The demon scoffed as a bullet slowly levitated out of his skull. It lingered in the air for a few seconds before dropping to the ground. "One down." It smiled, revealing blackened teeth.

"Christo." Gordon scoffed, appalled by their plans.

"ARGH! I WILL RIP APART EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY!" The demon roared, causing the establishment to quake from his unmitigated power. Seeing its demonic ability still affecting outside of its meat puppet, the demon cackled, this time with more glee and morbid curiosity. 

"Oh, he's learning so quickly." Richard cooed at the demon, whose entire body slowly got covered by the viscous liquid. "Let's wrap this up."

"Shouldn't we see if he has any other information?" Gordon was skeptical of Richard's plan. 

"I have what I need." He responded, but seeing Gordon was unimpressed, he elaborated. "Any information he has, I know. So just ask later."

Richard went outside of the restaurant and into the trunk of his car, procuring a small pouch from within. He then came back inside and produced a voice recorder out of the small pouch.

Richard pressed play, and an ominous chanting began to emit from the recorder.

~Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas,~

The demon emitted a wrathful belch that further destroyed the slowly crumbling walls of the restaurant. Windows smashed in shards as the demon convulsed in its place.

"Let's go. This is gonna take a while." Richard motioned for Gordon to escape the scene, fearing the cops would drag them towards the station and wasting more of their time.

~omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica~

"We're just gonna leave him there?" Gordon asked as they exited the restaurant and went into Richard's rental car. "Look, that ain't just your run-of-the-mill grocery store demon. That demon is strong as fuck, must be high on the ladder."

Richard kick-started the car and backed away from the crime scene in view of a few bystanders that dared enough to linger about. "Oh, very strong. Azazel has very few soldiers on Earth right now, most of them strong enough to claw their way out of hell with him. If we gave it enough time, it could remove the bullet on its head, then we'd be demon chow."

Gordon gave a weary sigh, pinching the roof of his nose. "You're telling there's a prince of hell out there who's going to literally raise hell?"

"Yep."

He clocked the vanishing form of a smirk on Richard's face. "And that this prince of hell, he has a bunch of fucked-up kids that would do anything he says?

"Not yet. But soon he will." Richard kept nonchalantly answering his questions while maneuvering the road. "Also, you can just say Azazel. Bitch ain't Voldemort."

Gordon felt his hands clenching in frustration and fear. Fear of the unknown enemies that hide behind the veil of deceit and the shadows of war whose tendrils have wrapped around him without his knowing. Frustration for feeling so powerless against the forces intent on devouring Earth and turning it into their own playground.

Gordon feels weak, but, at the same time, an insatiable hunger emanating deep within his very essence rumbles. A hunger no food, drink, nor carnal pleasure could satiate. A hunger fed only by the blood of his enemies and the despairing wails of the monster that roam this world and calls it home.

But Gordon knew now was not the time to feel such a way, now is the time to plan what to do. The demon spoke of the 'special children' as if they were some kind of demon super heroes.

The question is, how come Richard knows about it?', his thoughts edged him closer to the truth, frightening even him.

"So, why is it you saved me from that nest?" Gordon asked, feeling the small revolver hidden in his waistband. "You could've left me there to die, instead you showed and told me about this oncoming war. Why is that?"

"Because you're gonna be an effective soldier, Gordon." Richard answered with so much conviction that he remembered the times he would decapitate the mindless, blood-thirsty vampires. "I need people like you so that humans get to live longer. You do what's necessary, what has to be done."

Gordon scoffed. "Is that supposed to butter me up?"

"No, it's supposed to rile up a sense of camaraderie." Richard gave up his shtick with a smirk. "Here's what you need to know: Join me and kill as many vampires, werewolves, and demon there is and will ever be or..."

Richard halted the car on the side of the road.

"Or what?" Gordon felt a kindling of emotion beginning to burn within himself.

"I'll kill you," He replied nonchalantly.

It didn't surprise Gordon. He had been in the business for a long time and, once in a while, you learn a certain skill. An old trick involving your guts and eyes. He knew Richard was like him, a man who would do anything to survive.

'Maybe he doesn't know it yet, but he will.' Gordon thought. "So I kill evil motherfuckers under your payroll... or I get killed by an evil motherfucker."

"To be or not to be? That is the question." Richard gave a tired grin. "My boy Willie Spear got it right."

Gordon thought it through thoroughly. Treating the arrangement as a world-changing choice.

If he agreed to the Greythorne heir, then he would be better equipped to deal for the shit storm that is about to come. He heard the demon's plans loud and clear; the best way to prepare for that quickly incoming future is to align himself with the people with the same goal as him. Although it does matter if they have an ulterior motive, it will give him enough time to take up resources before crap goes sideways.

Plus, it doesn't hurt to earn a few grand for such a dangerous job. When was the last time he went to a restaurant without worrying where he was gonna con or steal his next room money from? Hell, it'd be nice not to sleep in his car for a change.

On the other hand, doing Richard's bidding would submit him to a lot of changes with which he was not comfortable. He was used to being a lone wolf. His bloody methods and violent disposition made sure of that matter.

What if he was to obey an order contrary to his belief? From what he's seen, he doubts Richard would be stupid enough to be in a scenario where such a decision has to be made. Still, the possibility exists. 

"There's a war coming, Gordon." Richard held out his last card as he took his sweet time. "The likes of which the world had never seen before. A supernatural war."

Gordon gave his last weary sigh for the day, shaking his head in an apparent attempt to change his mind. "Do we just do a handshake to seal the deal?"

[Quest Objective: Employ/Mentor 1/5 -> 2/5 Characters From The Original Television Show]