CANON BATTLE POST
The night air was still and silent as Oculus' familiar circled the skies above Detroit's twisting roads. The only noises present were the occasional whistling of wind through the streets and the rustling of old newspaper as it cascaded down the alleyway. Even for a cyclopean observation sphere, this place was a bore. Whether or not it could specifically feel "bored" was something of a mystery, but the lack of visual stimulation was definitely taking some kind of toll on the little sphere. It had begun moving and acting erratically. It increased its elevation, changed its vision types, and even briefly turned on its head to scan an area upside down before rapidly discarding that idea. It had to find its target, complete its mission. It was going to give up on this area and move on to their next possible locale when...
BOOM!
A chunk of the Southern wall of the nearby university's third floor exploded, raining shards of glass and stone down onto the adjacent rooftop. The little sphere swiveled 180-degrees and locked its cameras on the blast's epicenter. Through the clouds of dust and glass, a black-clad shape tumbled out of the crater, hit the roof 10 feet below, and let out a horrific screech. The noise was nothing like a person's scream; it sounded ungodly even to the mechanical sphere. Soon, another black clothed figure stepped through this makeshift exit; the only difference was that this one was definitely human.
Oculus' sphere hovered closer, using the various outcroppings on the roof as cover and watching as the human hovered down to the roof his target was on. The violet-skinned, tentacle-faced freak of nature in black, ragged robes writhed and hissed as the man drew closer. The orb felt something close to excitement as its mission parameters were finally met after such a long period of monotony and deprivation of interesting input. Fulfilling its role, Oculus' little spy nestled itself among the chimneys nearby and watched the battle unfold.
The world was spinning, its head was hurting, and the Deep One wasn’t fond of either. It was on its side, aching from the unseen impact this human had suddenly caused and jarred by the rough landing on the tarmac. All that was clear was that a fight was underway. The Deep One managed to push itself onto its knees and elbows, looking up and around in a daze at the rooftop strewn with stone chunks and glass shards...but no paper, nor leather. It turned its head sharply to look at the university, where it saw the Prodigal Son floating down from the hole in the wall about eight feet above. He had no scraps of leather or paper on him either.
Relief washed over the Deep One. On instinct, it had shoved the stack of books with its gift to get all of the reading material out of the way of the danger it barely heard coming. Fortunately, no fight was going to happen in there because both combatants had now sailed out the window. Unfortunately, the Deep One was caught flat-footed whilst facing an opponent who, it could tell (without telepathy) was looking to kill it indiscriminately.
Suddenly, the Deep One began to rise from the ground as if buoyed by an invisible tide. It was surprised, looking down at itself as it began to float upward with hands and legs outstretched. For a few moments, the cephalopod marveled at this anomaly. Then the Deep One saw the Prodigal Son had his arm extended with an open hand towards it. He had it right in his claws! Panic set in as the Deep One felt its limbs straighten and get pinned to his sides. It began to struggle against its invisible bonds, shrieking as the Prodigal Son marched toward it, growling:
“
Scream all you want, demon. You'll get no mercy from me!”
Slowly closing his hand, the Prodigal Son's telegraphic grip began to tighten, crushing the air out of the Deep One's lungs. As air tore itself free of his lungs, the creature's primal brain screamed in protest as its hysterical cries continued. It stared at its predator, wide-eyed with terror. And in a panic, the Deep One used what concentration it had left to force its way into the predator's thoughts. How was he doing this?!
...his "Gift?"
In this moment of terror, a shard of curiosity took hold of the Deep One. What was this "Gift" that this human had? It took barely any probinh to see what the Prodigal Son had done with his powers; moved people, himself, and objects, often in violent ways. Feeling around the section of the Prodigal Son's psyche that controlled this power, it felt familiar. It almost felt like the Deep One was sifting around inside of its own head. Did they have the same powers? Could the Deep One do what this Prodigal Son did?
The Prodigal Son, meanwhile, was staring this monstrosity in its black, wide eyes when he felt a chill go up his spine. It felt like something was watching him right over his shoulder and breathing down his neck. Taking a moment, he glanced away from his captured prey to look behind him, but saw nothing. Then he remembered old Nick's description of this demon's abilities and realized it was piercing his mind. More to himself than his opponent, the Prodigal Son thought:
Keep trying, hellspawn. God’s on my side and His will protects the faithful. You are nothing!
And with that, his grip tightened like a vice, forcing a sick, choking gurgle out of the Deep One. Suddenly, the creature's vision started to blur and its limbs felt heavy. It was running out of air, according to the library's first aid booklets, unconsciousness was imminent. If it was going to do anything, it was now. Reaching out with what miniscule power it could summon, several small tendrils of violet lightning flared out of the Deep One's immobile hands to touch the Prodigal Son. Feeling nothing from them, the human looked at the pitiful attempt at an attack and laughed bitteryly.
“
You’ve got nothing on me, demon! Now, I’ll do us all a favor and return you to your master in He-”
“
SCREEEEEEEEAAAAA!!!!”
With a bloodcurdling shriek and a surge of violet light in its eyes, the Deep One threw every ounce of power its mind could muster at the crusader torturing it. The Prodigal Son was shoved with the force of a car crash and sent flying into the wall of the university behind him. Brickwork cracked and crumbled as the Prodigal Son was sent through the wall and slammed into an abandoned classroom, plowing through desks and chairs before finally tumbling into the far wall. Having lost focus on his target, his grip on the Deep One vanished. The creature fell to the ground on one knee, gasping in the air that its foe had deprived it of.
Taking a moment to catch its breath, the Deep One's mind raced. It could move people! It had never even occurred to it to try that! How it hadn’t thought of that already was a mystery; it had always thought that all those times it sat in an alley's shadows while making tin cans dance around a gaggle of spooked goons was time wasted. It never even crossed its mind to just lift the thugs and shove each one into trash cans. For such a keen creature, the Deep One often felt like it was unbelievably dim. It never wanted to try things like that before for fear it would give itself even lesser standing among humans. Still, looking at where "diplomacy" had gotten it, it didn’t really seem to matter.
Standing up in full, the Deep One looked at the groaning, slowly recovering mass that called itself the Prodigal Son. And for once in its life, an unbridled hate began to swell in its chest for this man. Tendrils of telekinetic lightning flared from its hands and crackled across the shards of brick and glass on the ground as the word "demon" and all the images associated with it in Son's mind raced through the Deep One's head. These horrible creatures did things the Deep One had never even thought to do, things it would never, ever do. And yet, from one look at its face, it knew that this human could only see those "sins" each and every time he laid eyes on it. Every other time it was attacked, the Deep One had simply hid and ran. It wanted to show that it wanted to be left alone, that it didn't care about humans in the slightest and wanted to leave these predators in peace.
But for first time in its life, in the face of a man who only saw a monster, it didn't want to disappoint.
The Prodigal Son crawled to his feet, groaning. He should have seen that attack coming but his pride had gotten the better of him for a crucial moment and he did not feel good about it. He had gotten barely enough time to blast the wall out from behind him before he was hurled through it. One more second, and he'd have been dead!
That damn demon. It’s going to pay!
Using a desk to help him stand, the Prodigal Son looked up and through the newly formed hole and saw his hellish foe straightening up as well while violet lighting trailed off its body. This disgusting creature raised one of its hands, and with it, the small shards of stone and glass scattered about the rooftop rose up amidst tiny violet auras. Shaken from the first attack, the Prodigal Son flinched at the sight of the monster. He couldn't beat him head-on, not now! So instead, as the demon threw its hand forward to start the onslaught of stone and glass, the Prodigal Son used his gift to pull two desks towards him and turn their tops toward his opponent. Hunkering down behind them, the storm of debris thudded against the Prodigal Son’s improvised shield, stones leaving dents and glass knives piercing the wooden tabletops to stick out the other side.
When the brief attack subsided, the Prodigal Son mentally shoved his shields with a roar, launching them toward his target before running and throwing himself at the demon with his fist drawn back. The monster batted the two desks aside with bolts of lightning, but upon seeing the human missile approaching it, ducked under the Prodigal Son's charge, letting him pass over it. Having missed, the Prodigal Son soared into the air beyond, flying 50 feet out and up before stopping and turning around. The demon was a speck below him now, but no less dangerous as he saw glints of light fast approaching him. The Prodigal Son willed an invisible wall into existence in front of him, blocking the shards of glass and chunks of stone that were thrown at him whilst hurling a titanic missile of telekinetic power back at the monster. Ceasing its attack, the tiny demon leaped away before a crater formed where it was standing a few moments ago. Not letting up, Prodigal Son threw more blasts of invisible force at the spawn below, forcing it to dance about the rooftop as holes were hammered thunderously into the concrete roof. As fun as it was, the Prodigal Son had a job to do. Wreathing himself in a shell of solid willpower, the modern paladin rocketed earthward to crash straight into his demonic opponent, roaring:
“
TASTE GOD’S WRATH!!!”
In the few seconds before impact, all the Prodigal Son could see was the demon running its foul lightning through the shattered stone on the roof around it before-
BOOM!
With a crushing impact, the Prodigal Son crashed into the rooftop, cracking the already shattered concrete floor into thousands of pieces and filling the air with smoky clouds of shrapnel. Though his vision was impaired, the Prodigal Son could feel his hand wrapped around something thin, cold and round; the demon's neck, no doubt. With a savage grin, he forced the weight of his mind onto the brittle thing, feeling it twist and crack underneath his-
FWOOOOOSH!
In an instant, The Prodigal Son was blasted full in the face by a fountain of cold water. Choking and sputtering, he stumbled back, staring at the crater he had left. Wiping the water out of his eyes, he saw a broken copper pipe, bent and ruptured like a flimsy tin can. Needless to say, the Prodgal Son was both confused and enraged.
What?! Where’d that hellspawn go?!
A hum rippled through the air from behind him, and the Prodigal Son turned around to see the demon hovering a few feet away from the rooftop with a haze of violet energy outlining its body. Its hands were outstretched to either side, with oscillating tethers of lightning trailing back to the roof the Prodigal Son was standing on, to his immediate left and right. Following them with his eyes, Prodigal Son saw that they were attached to large, mostly solid blocks of concrete on either side of him. Sadly, he realized his predicament just as the demon brought its hands together in a clapping gesture in front of it.
Dammit.
CRACK!
The sound of stone on stone thundered through the sky as the two slabs of concrete bashed into each other, crushing the Prodigal Son between them. The sound echoed on the wind for a few seconds before a hush fell over the dead city. The Deep One cut through the silence with an audible sigh. That was that, it supposed. It also took a moment to marvel at itself, hovering 3 stories off the ground with the power of its mind alone. It really had to experiment a little more with its abilities if it was going to fend off attackers like this in the future. Being able to just fly up and away from trouble would completely change its means of travel. It was better than flicking stray cigarette butts and pebbles around to just freak out whoever was chasing it until they were sufficiently distracted.
The Deep One suddenly shuddered slightly, feeling a crawling sensation across its skin. It was a sign he had learned to read since he began venturing to land; its skin was drying out. Barring the fact that it had been walking for the better part of a couple of hours trying to get to the university, the Deep One also had worked up a sweat trying to contend with the two ambushes it faced. Needless to say, it had sufficiently taxed itself of precious hydration, and though its clothes were woven to retain moisture, it needed to refill. Fortunately for the Deep One, there was a nice, clean spring of water right next to where it had murdered his most recent opponent...almost too clean of a spring...
...shouldn’t there be blood dripping out from between the rocks?
“
RAAAAAAGH!!!!”
With a roar, the Prodigal Son’s gift erupted like a bomb, shattering the cold, dark cocoon he was encased in and returning to the twilit rooftop. Stone flew in every direction like shrapnel while he landed in a pool of water, catching the breath he had held in order to survive in that prison.
That was way too close.
When he saw the two slabs of concrete closing in, the Prodigal Son desperately attempted to erect a barrier at the last second. It didn’t have time to fully form, but he managed to create a small pocket for him to fit in while he gathered the power to break out. He was like an avocado if it’s pit was made of seething, divine hatred. There was only so much air trapped with him, though, so it was fast-thinking and a stupid amount of good luck that he managed to summon the power to break free.
That wasn't luck. It was Him, giving you one more chance. C’mon, Quinn, make the Father proud!
Looking up and around, the Prodigal Son locked eyes with the demon that had almost killed him, which was still hovering where he had last saw it. It stared back with shock writ large on its alien face. It tried to gather some more stones with its infernal magic, but the Prodigal Son didn’t give it the chance. Thrusting his fist out, his gift projected a heavy punch straight into the stomach of the demon, which doubled over with a grunt. The Prodigal Son didn’t let up, swinging with right hooks, jabs, an uppercut or two, and finally, a haymaker to the face. His gift replicated every blow, leaving the demon stuck in midair as invisible attacks ripped into its torso and head, until a final blow sent the creature rocketing through the air and crashing down onto the rooftop opposite them. Leaping using his gift, the Prodigal Son landed right next to the limp, beaten creature, grabbing it by the throat and hoisting it up into the air in front of him. Spitting out a glob of blood that had slowly bloomed in his mouth, the Prodigal Son snarled.
“
You’ve met your match, scum.”
The demon croaked, trying to breathe. Its head was covered in welts and blue-violet bruises and there was some blue blood trickling over the Prodigal Son’s hand. Its chest was probably no better off. It could barely open its eyes and look at its opponent, though some sparks of its power still flickered across its face and body. The Prodigal Son sneered, but couldn’t help but feel disappointed. This was the first time he fought an actual demon. He thought they’d be tougher.
I thought this would be a challenge, but it feels more like a joke...maybe I could let this thing go and warn its allies...
He grunted, pushing the thought out of his mind. Duty was duty, and he didn’t want to disappoint the almighty Father. He had to kill it, no matter how pitiful the demon was. Summoning his gift, he wrapped the creature’s throat with his mind’s power, preparing to strangle it to death. Without a shred of pity for the monster, he began to squeeze just as he felt something warm behind him. His shadow became visible on the demon, illuminated by a balmy, golden light. Quinn raised an eyebrow and relaxed his grip, confused. Turning around, though, he saw a sight he'd never forget.
Floating in the air behind the two of them was a glowing, robed man. The robes were clean and tan-coloured, and behind him was a great sphere of light, much like the sun. The light was so bright that it hid most of the man’s features, but the Prodigal Son could make out a white beard. His hands, though wrinkled and aged, looked strong. In fact, the man seemed to radiate power as much as he did light. There was a seemingly divine aura about him that the Prodigal Son couldn’t place until the man spoke.
“
Quinn Price.”
The Prodigal Son froze, staring.
“
Be not afraid.”
“
How did...nobody knows my name anymore.”
The man chuckled.
“
We remember all The Lord's children, Quinn. And we are proud of the most pious among them. Especially you.”
Quinn suddenly realized who this was, the shock rippling through his body. He numbly released the demon, and the two of them crumpled to the ground. Quinn was on his knees, his head bowed, and his heart hammering. The fight prior all but forgotten, Quinn stammered:
“
F-Father forgive me! I didn’t know I was-! I was talking to--”
“
You are forgiven,” said the angel.
Looking up, Quinn stared, awed at the majesty of the holy representative before him. If anything, the being's smile grew and he moved to the rooftop, landing on it and kneeling so he could put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.
“
You have done very well in the Father's name, Quinn. You’ve saved innocent lives and sent the most sinful to be judged by The Lord. You have our thanks. All of our thanks. ”
Despite his slight fear, Quinn’s heart welled up with pride as an almost literal chorus of angels appeared in the sky behind their commander. To have an Archangel thank you for your piety was no compliment to take lightly. It was almost too much to take. Bowing his head again, unable to look into the being's eyes, he stammered:
“
T-thank you. I-I don’t deserve such praise.”
“
True. You’ve gone against one of the commandments, 'thou shalt not kill,' and have claimed to do so in the name of Christ... But still, in doing so, you’ve served the greatest good; you’ve punished the wicked for their Earthly deeds and spared the faithful from their evil. Though your service is unconventional, it cannot be denied that you’ve ultimately saved many and driven them to fear and respect The Law.”
Now Quinn was at a loss for words.
They are forgoing one of His commandments and forgiving me? Am I really worth that much?
“
...words cannot describe my thanks...”
“
We've not come to ask for gratitude. No, we've come to ask for service. On command of the Highest, the time has come, Quinn, for you to join our number. ”
Lowering his head even further, Quinn's tears of joy soaked the Earth beneath him. Finally, his greatest wish, his fantasy. It was coming true!
The beings remained silent. Silent for a long while...Quinn couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.
“
Is there something wrong, great ones? Is this a test?”
Still no response. Looking up, Quinn asked again:
“
Father? Why have--”
He froze, staring in shock. The being faded away into black smoke and tendrils of violet lightning as he stood before Prodigal Son. His golden aura faded, the incredible servant was suddenly nothing but smoke on the wind. Quinn sat there, slack-jawed and horrified. Wracking his brain for an explanation, he remembered the demon he had fought and stood, turning around. The spot where he had dropped the demon was vacant, save for a splatter of blue blood.
“
WHAT?!”
Rushing to the edge of the rooftop, he looked down at the street, his head roving left and right as he tried to find his quarry. Seeing no trace, the Prodigal Son stamped and growled, enraged. Then he realized; the wounded demon, the angel appearing out of nowhere, fading into that same violet lightning the demon used, and then the demon was gone...
It was an illusion; the whole thing had been faked. The demon had plucked the fantasy from the Prodigal Son’s head and created a beautiful facade long enough to slither back to the nearest hole it came from. The Prodigal Son grit his teeth, fury welling up inside of him, ashamed and enraged that he’d been tricked by a bruised, bleeding excuse for a demon too. Furious, the Prodigal Son threw his head back and roared. The sound was so furious, even those dead in Detroit could hear his anger, and know to be afraid.
"Demon Bastard!"
A day later, Quinn awoke from his nightmare, sitting bolt upright and breaking out into a cold and terror-drenched sweat! He had thought himself immune to fear before now, but the thought of the demon worming its tendrils into his brain, making his own faith betray him, and turning his eyes away from God triggered private and horrifying nightmares. Sitting up so suddenly made him realize his head felt like it was about to burst.
"Cursin' is a sin."
Natalie chided him.
What the heck was she doing here?! Quinn forced himself to re-examine his surroundings- somehow he was back in his safehouse...
"I brought you back here."
Natalie explained, anticipating his question.
"You was passed out by the water. The gangs were all riled up about someone, said he was tearin' apart the city headed South! I thought that you might have been involved... so I went to look... and, I mean, I wasn't wrong..."
The girls tone turned defensive at the last part of her admission. She knew for a fact that Prodigal Son wouldn't approve of her choice, but there didn't seem to be any avoiding that fact for now...
"Did you read your bible?"
"I- What?!"
"Did you read it?"
"...Can't read. I told you that!"
Quinn groaned in a mixture of exasperation, and also in real physical pain. He was furious at his new ward for disobeying his orders- but at the same time he realized that teaching her God's virtues was going to be an uphill struggle.
...Besides, she had saved him. It was an incredible turn of events which Prodigal Son could only put down to being God's work.
A promise was a promise, and the man asked the girl to fetch the book so her study could begin.
A wet trickle ran from his forehead and blurred his vision. Assuming that it was his own blood he wiped it away with the back of his hand. The hand came away marked by dirty blue streaks...
Water lapped at filth-encrusted bargepoles. Detroit's Lake St Claire was far from clear, but it was as close to home as The Deep One had felt in a long time. The creature had found a dark corner of wharf and finally gotten the breathing room it needed to account for it's injuries and make sense of all it had learned.
The creature's curious yet Machiavellian mind was learning fast. And although it would have preferred to remain in the library, it had nonetheless gained significant knowledge merely by it's encounter with Prodigal Son.
The land was full of predators, densely so - it now knew.
The creature also realized that it should stop thinking in terms of its previous life. Neither the Prodigal Son or the odd little "eyes" it had spotted had behaved in a way that seemed to make natural sense. The Son didn't want to devour it, nor was he guarding his territory. He just wanted to kill. It seemed as though the Deep One would need to stop thinking in terms of territory and food chains, and learn the new natural order of the surface.
Deep and unknowable thoughts swam through the creature's head.
A few days passed. And although the area of the battle had attracted significant interest from Detroit's denizens at first, the only eyes looking over the school on this night were red and metallic. A team of six fresh "spyballs" looked over the battlefield with forensic interest. They noted the damage that had been inflicted to the area and reconstructed the order of battle with the closest thing to excitement that their limited range of expression could convey.
Oculus had not gained everything she wanted from this encounter (the battle gave her little time to do so). But then again, she had lost nothing either. Even just confirmation that The Deep One and The Prodigal Son were both more than mere rumors, alongside the information she gleaned from getting a close look at them in action, would be an incredibly valuable boon for her.
A sphere with a more brightly glowing pupil than the rest split from the group. It hovered over a patch of drying blue blood, enhanced it's vision to microscopic proportions, and began collecting samples...