The Hell War

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PrinceOfShapeir:
Okay, well. I'm disgusted and ashamed by what I've seen here.

Disgusted and ashamed? Strong words. Any particular reasons why?

PrinceOfShapeir:
Okay, well. I'm disgusted and ashamed by what I've seen here.

Little testy no? A reasoning would be nice before you use such commentary.

"Keep alert. Lord Azazel lost a patrol in this sector eight hours ago. This Unit Six to Command, we have no contacts. Continuing our sweep."

In the burned out husk of an apartment complex, Captain Anya Corbaine sat against the wall, rifle in hand. She twisted around the window and took aim through her scope. "I count ten. Eight collabos, two Demons. One's Wrath, other's an Imp."

The eight humans were wearing looted riot gear and carrying shotguns and submachine guns. Imps were smaller Demons, only standing about eight feet tall. They were the shock troops of the Demon army. Impossibly numerous and comparatively weak. Their actual appearance varied, this one looked like a humanoid, horned crocodile. The Wrath Demon looked far different, girded from head to foot in black armor that glowed with fire from within, holding a massive broadsword that was taller than Anya was. She grinned. Easy money. The terrain offered almost no cover for them.

"Team, get ready. Hostile contacts are moving into the killzone."

Her team - a ragtag bunch if she'd ever seen one - was arrayed around this blasted out wreck of a street, just waiting for her to take the first shot. She started rolling her round between her fingers, staring at the crosses carved into it. "In the name of God." She slid it into the chamber, closing the bolt action. "Bear witness."

She twisted and fired. The neck of the Wrath Demon exploded, exposing the demon's black, charred flesh. The Demon roared, but did not die. Anya slapped her radio. "This is Wasp, they're stung! Move in for the kill!"

Ace was sitting down behind a pile of wrecked cars, checking the bullets in his revolver. 8 collabs, 2 demons. 8 collabs, 2 demons. It was always easy to take the life of a demon, even if they begged for their lives on their knees, or promised riches and power. But collaborators always left a bad taste in his mouth. Some of them were long gone, shells of their former selves, others enjoyed the privileges and the spoils of war. He loaded the gun with normal bullets: there was no sense in wasting the expensive ones on humans. They died just as easy as before.

"This is Wasp, they're stung! Move in for the kill!"

At the signal, Ace jumped up and aimed through a broken windshield at the first thing he saw. He wasn't sure whether to be thankful that it was a human man, decked out in a similar mismatched armor. The man hadn't spotted him yet, and Ace knew he had already hesitated to long. His gunshot pierced the air, hitting the man in the neck. Crimson blood stained the dusty air, flooding the street with more red.

You're just as bad as they are: you're slaughtering your fellow humans like sheep

The demon in his sword pulsed with a high pitched laugh. No. Concentrate. He ducked back behind his cover, trying to gauge where the other enemies were positioned. Sometimes it was bad, and Ace couldn't hear anything around him, but tonight it was just a few taunts and jibes. Delilah was obviously uncontent with her current living conditions, and usually took out all her vexation on him. He wasn't going to use the sword unless he needed to: hopefully his teammates would take out the demon before it came after him.

The radio crackled beside the Maiden as she crouched, a crimson heap of fabric, behind the shattered windows of a storefront. It was dark in here, shadows shrouding her position, but she knew where the demons stood-- she could feel it. Out in the street with their fool servants.

Morte Infernus recognized that her power was fueled by hate, a distinct tell of its demonic molding. But they were content that her hate was directed very firmly upon the abyssal armies. It was hard to hold it back, and she was grateful for the command to strike.

And strike she did. The demons and their collaborators, reeling from Anya and Ace's first strike, should be easy prey. The Maiden rose, coruscating power shining black about her even as it charred her own flesh. She directed a hand toward the wounded Wrath Demon, the twisting beam of energy focusing and burning its way through the dust-choked air towards the hapless monster.

The demons had honed her abilities. This one would soon learn their error.

Tommy could not suppress his grin as he heard the call. He noted the collaborators who were armed, and figured it best to do something about a few of those. Rising from where he had been ducking down, he concentrated, with some slight marvel in the back of his mind that he still managed to manipulate the earth and metals. However, the time for marvels was long gone, and Tommy was going to make sure that these....traitors would not walk out of here.

Slamming his foot into the ground, he made the earth rise near him into the form of a boulder and launched it to slam into the imp which was probably surprised from his leader taking a blow from the first shot. However, his attention quickly turned towards the many humans which were also a problem. Crouching down and slamming his fists into the ground several times, earth spikes proceeded to stab up at the collaborators. If they still had their humanity, they would know the fear of the earth rising up to take their lives.

As the group waited to ambush the demon patrol headed their way, Emmet took deep breaths and checked his weapons again as he did before every fight. His demon femur swords, his shotgun, and his demon bone knuckles. His equipment was ready, now he just needed to be. "Dear God..." He began a prayer but stopped himself. No. God abandoned me. Abandoned all of us. The only one I can count on now is me. And my weapons.

As the radio crackled to life and the Wrath demon howled in pain signaling the beginning of their attack, Emmet took one last deep breath before grabbing one of his swords off his back and gripping it tightly in both hands. A group of collaborators walked past the building he was hiding in, only to be scattered by Tommy's earth spikes. One leapt out of the way, and stepped into his building for cover. It was his last mistake. With a howl of rage, Emmet plunged the sword through the foul traitors chest then used his foot to shove the corpse off his blade. He cast the blade aside for the time being, and drew his shotgun. A shot took another human enemy by surprise, ending his life, and kept the rest far away from Emmet.

The magic users were damn flashy, but that suited Ace fine. It meant less attention on him. He ran at the closest human and tackled him down behind some cover and shot him point blank in the face. Ace picked up the man's submachine gun, using it to drive the other collaborators towards the mages. A shotgun blast made him duck, but a burning sensation in his shoulder told him the shooter hadn't completely missed.

Let me out Let me out Let me out Let me out

He shot blindly around the corner, keeping an eye out for the large demon.

Before the call, Warsaw was behind a dumpster in an ally, behind the demons. She had to physically restrain herself from attacking them early. Her demeanor was calm, but her thoughts were frantic and disjointed, as they usually were before combat.

She risked peeking out as they walked past, making note of where her allies hid, and where her enemies were likely to look for cover.

No, she thought. Not enemies. Targets. "Enemies" denotes they're worthy of being called a threat. They're no threat. They're fodder, and if they don't know it yet, they're about to.

The moment the call went out, she dashed around the corner, rushed the group of foes that had painted themselves red in her vision, let out an enraged shout, and swung her massive yet impossibly light sword at the first thing she saw, a collaborator trying to level a rifle at her.

"DIIIIIEEEE!!!!"

She cleaved it in two, and rolled to avoid her squadmates' own bullets.

Managing to sneak around the buildings, Ace downed another collaborator. "Sorry, just doing what I need to..." Most of the humans were dead, but the wounded Demon was still furious and strong. I guess I'll need this...

For a few seconds in his mind was silence, just the sound of drawing Delilah cutting the air. The Demon sniffed around from his position on the ground, knocked down by the Crimson Maiden's first blast. They could sense it. An imprisoned demon wasn't lax about letting its presence be known. Ace concentrated hard. He had to battle both the demon he saw, and the one he didn't. "Back to from whence you came, demon!" He ran at it while a mage continued to blast at its unprotected back. Delilah cut air, then flesh, then bone, completely severing the demon's arm at the shoulder. It screamed in agony and swatted Ace away. This better not take long...

"Tch! You cowardly collaborators really don't put up much of a fight, do ya?" Emmet asked the man pinned down under his boot mockingly. "You turned against your own kind out of fear. You deserve this." The man screamed as Emmet mercilessly pulled the trigger of his shotgun. The demon bone shells were meant to be used on demons but they were every bit as effective on humans as well. The few collaborators left stayed as far from Emmet as they could after that.

Having finished his work there, Emmet turned to see Ace fighting the Wrath demon. He put his shotgun away and grabbed his second sword, ready to assist. It was then he felt a large presence behind him. Shit! I forgot the Imp! Was all that had time to think before the Imps claws tore through his armor and raked across his back. The pain was intense, but Emmet clenched his teeth to keep himself from screaming. Quickly, he spun around and blocked a second strike from the demon and countered with a slash of his own across it's chest. As it hissed angrily, Emmet backed away slowly deciding that being defensive would be better here.

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