Naomi recognized that voice, that full-of-itself, country accent. Jackson. How the hell did he get inside, Naomi thought.

  “I’d be smart about this, Samurai. Hate to paint your brains all over God’s floor.” Naomi raised her hands in surrender. “Glad we understand each other.” He said, eagerly grabbing her katana with his free hand, unsheathing it, and tossing it aside.

  “You son of a bitch…” She grumbled, grunting as Jackson pushed her next to Sam and Lenore, sitting against the wall. Jackson chuckled, keeping the gun trained in their direction. “When Mike gets back, he’s–”

  “Mike ain’t gonna do shit!” Jackson snapped back. “I can’t believe y’all trust your lives with him. Few years ago, he would’ve been found dead. Alone. Nobody to mourn him except the rats.” He grabbed a chair, sitting down in it while keeping an eye on the three. “Now here’s the deal. I want that little weasel Mike, here. So I can kill ‘em myself. Or one of you’s gonna die.”

  He checked his watch, the face now cracked and adorned with speckles of dry blood. “Now, my problem ain’t with you people, so I’ll be generous.” He tilted his wrist, showing the three the face of the watch. “It’s 6:30. Mike has an hour to bring his sorry ass here. After that…” He pointed his gun at Naomi’s forehead, letting it finish his threat.

  …

  BANG!! BANG-BANG!!

  Mike shot at the hellspawns as he retreated into the basement. As his gun became empty he turned and ran, closing the door behind him and sliding the barricade down. He slumped against the door, taking a deep breath. He looked up at the people huddled at the furthest wall. People of different ages and backgrounds. Men, women, elderly, children. Mike slowly stood, wobbling slightly. He was met with a sharp strike to the face, sending him stumbling.

  “Bastard!” The attacker yelled. It was the guard, the one that ran to defend the people when Ami stood up against Delores. “You led them here, got our people killed–our walls destroyed!”

  Mike wiped the blood from his lip with his hand, breathing heavily. “We didn’t!” He exclaimed, “How are we supposed to know that would’ve happened?!”

  “Other than the fact this only happened after you showed up!” The guard wound his fist back before trying to strike Mike in the stomach. Mike caught the fist, barely keeping it from making contact.

  “Back off!” He yelled, shoving the guard away. “We’re trying to help!”

  The guard ran up to Mike again to punch him, but someone caught his arm right before he was about to swing.

  “Ryan! Dios Mio, get a grip.” It was a woman with light olive skin and dark brown hair that curled at the ends. The lines on her face seemed to give off age and the glasses strongly exuded professionalism. “You have every right to be angry, but you need to relax. We’re safe.”

  Ryan’s aggressive posture relaxed and he nodded. “Yes, ma.” She nodded, pleased to have quelled the situation.

  “I’m so sorry for my son. This situation has him on edge.” Mike nodded. Wouldn’t everyone be on edge in an end-of-the-world, apocalyptic scenario?

  “It has us all on edge.” He replied, observing the woman more. A slightly dirty blazer, grey blouse, dress pants, and loafers–a businesswoman look. The only thing she’s missing is a giant grin and preppy styled hair. “I’m Mike.”

  “Nat.” She softly named herself. “I saw you out there with a girl. Curly hair, tear-streaks. Who was that?”

  “Her name’s Ami.” Mike said, “She’s uh…”

  “She’s not human! We can’t trust–”

  “Shut up, Ryan!” As quickly as Ryan interjected, he took a step back at his mother’s barked command. “Not human, huh?”

  “Mostly. She’s… like, half dead.” Nat’s eyes widened, her breath catching halfway at the words. Ryan groaned, his hands grasping at his head like it was threatening to combust.

  “This is crazy! This is crazy!” He whispered to himself in Spanish. “Mom, this is insane! How can you listen to this?!”

  “Ryan!” She exclaimed. She looked back at Mike, fishing in her pocket and pulling out a thin, leather wallet. She let it fall open, revealing an ID. The Federal Bureau of Investigation atop the ID caught his eyes, along with the golden badge on the bottom flap.

  “I was here to investigate some concerning occult activities in Beauview the previous winter. With the diablos and your half-dead friend–I can get some answers that’ll help the both of us.”

  Mike didn’t know what else to say. An FBI agent. It almost sounded corny, maybe convenient, but he simply nodded. Any help is good help. “Yeah. We got a lot of answers–”

  WHAM!!!

  “Shit!” Mike exclaimed, his legs wobbling as the ground shook. “Dammit, what’s going on up there?!”

  …

  Ami stared at Delores with a look of perfectly manicured hate, her eyes wide but her pupils an uncomfortable size. “You’re scared.” She murmured, taking a step towards the shaking demon. “Are you scared of me? Really?”

  Delores grit her teeth, looking back at Ami with equal hate, but more fear than anger. “I am not scared of you, you egotistical brat!” She readied the spider-arm again and struck. Ami caught the limb before wrapping her arms around it and swinging it over her shoulder, hoisting Delores up and over before slamming her onto the ground.

  Ami raised her boot, ready to stomp Delores into the marble. She quickly rolled out of the way, causing Ami to stomp her boot onto the ground of the cafeteria and shake the entire building.

  WHAM!!!

  Delores recovered, using the spider-arm to propel herself towards Ami and throw a quick few punches. Ami dodged the first couple, seeing the general grow more frustrated with each miss before a sudden jab caught her in the cheek. She quickly countered, using the spin caused by the punch to sucker-punch Delores straight in the face.

  She yelped as her nose was practically flattened. Steamy, almost boiling blood ran down her lips and chin, dripping to the pale tiles below them. She growled before swinging at Ami. It was a feigned punch, detouring from its assumed path and turning into a heel kick that made contact with Ami and made her stumble back.

  Delores pounced on her, one hand planted firmly over Ami’s mouth. Immediately, she thrusted the spider-limb down on her face, which Ami quickly caught, her arms shaking as she struggled to keep it from impaling her skull.

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  “Your damnation… It's too far gone! You… must be… killed!” Delores grumbled. Ami felt her grip beginning to slip slightly. She acted on instinct, redirecting the spider-limb to the ground to the left of her head. Her clawed hand shot out, gripping Delores’ throat before ripping it out. The demon’s eyes bulged wide and her jaw dropped as everything in her neck was pulled out like wires from a machine.

  All Delores could do was gurgle and choke as her vision slowly dimmed and her strength faded. Ami kicked Delores off of herself, breathing heavily through the harsh vapor emitting from the dark liquid on her face, neck, and chest. Delores crumpled to the ground, her hands clawing at her neck.

  Ami dragged herself to her feet, her chest heaving as she watched Delores wriggle on the ground helplessly. Her movements slowed, her eyes widened, and eventually she stopped. Her hands went limp, falling to her corpse beside her body as it started to rapidly decay.

  …

  Mike ran down the hallway of the school, Nat and Ryan following close behind. He skidded to a stop at the cafeteria doors, his eyes immediately landing on Ami, standing hunched in the dilapidated cafeteria.

  “Ami!” He called out. Ami slowly looked over at him, her frame slowly swaying. She took a sluggish step towards him, her arm reached out before she took another step. She crumpled to the ground, an audible sigh escaping her as she hit the floor. “Ami!!!”

  Mike rushed over to Ami, rolling her over and looking at her. Covered in blood, he could see her lips parted slightly as she softly breathed, as if she were napping. “Passed out. She must’ve used that… form.”

  Ryan and Nat’s eyes were wide as they saw Ami’s battle-worn appearance. “Jesus Christ!” Ryan exclaimed, clutching his rifle. “What the fuck is going on?!”

  Nat kneeled beside Mike, looking down at Ami. “You guys had a place before this one, right?” She asked. Mike nodded.

  “A church.” He replied, still looking down at Ami. “We have three other people there. One of them is an Angel.” Nat’s eyebrows raised.

  “An Angel?” She asked, sounding genuinely surprised. The hellspawns were like Tuesday to her apparently, but an Angel was eyebrow raising? “Say no more, we should go.”

  “What about these people? We can’t leave them here!” Ryan exclaimed. Nat slowly stood up, nodding.

  “I understand, mijo. But Oliver should have everything under control, we’re not exactly needed here.”

  “I am! I’m one of the last guards here, I can’t abandon these people!”

  Mike stood up, throwing Ami’s arm over his shoulder and keeping his hand on her waist to hold her up. “It’ll be fine, Nat. If he wants to help his people, let him.”

  Both Nat and Ryan looked at Mike with wide eyes for a moment. “Who knew a guy I punched in the face would side with me?” Ryan muttered before looking at Nat again. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Nat looked at Ryan for a moment before her gaze faltered. She was lost in thought for a moment before she nodded. “Okay. I trust you, Ryan.” She hugged Ryan. She laughed and pulled back after a moment.

  “You’re just like your dad. So prideful.” She took a step back, looking at her son before nodding. “Be safe, Ryan.” Then she turned around, starting to walk with Mike to the church with a passed out Ami on his shoulder.

  …

  Naomi looked down at the ground in front of her. For the first time in a while, she felt helpless–like a mouse imprisoned under the watchful eye of someone playing god. It made her sick. She looked over at Sam, who was also looking down at the ground. She was shaking, her lip trembling and tears running down her face. Then she looked over at Lenore, seeing their usual blank, wistful expression.

  “You three are so damn boring. At least the girl in fishnets was chatty–filled the silence, even if it was all hootin’ and hollarin’.” Jackson grumbled. Naomi grimaced at that phrase.

  “Well, I guess I’ll spark some conversation…” He pointed the gun at Lenore, a smirk coming to his face. “Hey, pixie dust.” Lenore didn’t look at Jackson, continuing to stare into space. Jackson didn’t like that.

  “Look at me, fairy.” He lifted his leg and gently kicked Lenore in the chest, causing them to gasp softly. “You’re an… Angel, yeah? You’ve met the lord himself?”

  Lenore glared at Jackson with their pale round eyes, their brows furrowing. “I’ve met it. It created me.” Jackson scoffed.

  “It? No son, God is very much a he–”

  “You don’t know anything about it. Your ‘God’ is a fairy tail.” Jackson’s smirk fell. He cocked the gun and aimed it more firmly at Lenore.

  “You questionin’ my faith?” Lenore shook their head.

  “I’m calling it false. It has no name, no shape, no identity, no voice. It’s a being, a being that looks over all other beings.”

  Lenore leaned in more, boldly staring into Jackson’s soul. “You give it a name and a face so you have something to plead to whenever you think your wrongdoings are seen by it. If it had ever bothered to acknowledge you, it’d ask for me to kill you myself.”

  Jackson abruptly stood, aiming the gun at Lenore’s head. “Maybe he–oh sorry–it would ask me to send you back to fix your sorry ass.”

  Just as Jackson was going to pull the trigger, the doors to the church creaked open. Jackson glanced over, seeing Mike, Ami, and another woman–Nat. Mike’s eyes widened when he saw Jackson, looming over the three with a loaded gun.

  “I’ll be damned! The wimp of the hour is here. And I might not have to lift a finger to kick your ass this time! Just like every other time, Mike.” Lenore tried getting to their feet, but Jackson quickly adjusted his aim to their leg and fired. They let out a pained scream, the wound in their leg leaking a pale, glowing blue liquid–the blood of an Angel.

  “Lenore–!” Mike yelled, taking a brief step before the gun clicked again.

  “Ah! Don’t move, Mike.” Jackson chuckled, aiming the gun at him. “I ain’t afraid to kill all your friends back here. So unless you wanna see your buddies here get killed one by one, I suggest you drop your lady friend so I can kill you myself, then I’ll go.”

  Nat watched, her eyes wide as she saw the stand-off between these two. It seemed to be extremely heated–these two definitely had history. Mike looked over at Nat.

  “Take Ami.” Mike muttered, leaning over and giving Ami to Nat.

  “W-What–”

  “Just… take her. Please.” He softly commanded, looking back at Jackson. Jackson nodded.

  “Atta boy. I knew you’d give up at some point…”

  “Do you ever shut the fuck up?!”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he firmed his aim on Mike. “Careful, Mike. One wrong word and I’ll instantly pull this trigger.” He took a careful few steps towards Mike, stopping a couple arms-lengths from him. “You could’ve been somethin’, Mike. More than a mousy-loser who let every vulture pick him apart until he was just... bone. Every fight we had, I always asked myself: ‘What if I stop? What if I give him a chance to finally hurt me good?’ But that day never came, and now it’ll never come…”

  As Jackson gave his speech, Naomi dragged herself up just enough to sneak over to the altar, where a dusty bible laid. She grit her teeth, doing everything in her power to keep any pained sound down.

  She picked up the book and tossed it across the church, immediately hiding behind the altar as it made a thud sound. Jackson turned his head to the source of the sound.

  “What the–!!” Mike ran and pounced on Jackson, tackling him to the ground and knocking the gun out of his hand. He wound his fist back and knocked Jackson straight in the jaw. When he went for the second punch, Jackson hit him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him before flipping them over. Jackson wound his fist back, the other grabbing Mike’s dress shirt as he punched him in the nose. Blood immediately started leaking down his lips and chin. Jackson punched him again and again. Mike tried blocking the hits with his forearms, but they only slightly eased the damage.

  “You fight like a little girl!” Jackson yelled, hammering the sides of Mike’s head with his fists. Mike felt needles stabbing into his brain with each strike, like tiny beds of nails repeatedly stabbing and stabbing.

  Jackson stopped when he noticed a figure looming over him. Naomi, with the gun pointed at his head. “Get up.”

  Jackson looked down at Mike. He messed him up pretty good, blood running down his mouth and one of his ears. He slowly got up, looking at Naomi.

  “You gonna shoot me?” He husked. “You don’t got the balls, Trini Kwan.” Naomi’s eyes narrowed, her pain-laced expression mixing with disgust.

  “No. Someone deserves that more than I do.” She leaned down, keeping the gun trained on Jackson as she helped Mike up to his feet. Mike stumbled for a moment before looking at Jackson. Hate was an understatement for what was festering in his eyes.

  Naomi shot Jackson in the leg, sending him down to one knee and fully snapping Mike back to full focus. Once she was satisfied that Jackson wasn’t fighting back, she handed Mike the gun. “Kill him.”

  Mike firmly held the gun, his breath growing heavy as he held it in his trembling hand.

  “Of course...” Jackson grumbled, looking up at Mike. Mike looked down at Jackson before aiming the gun directly at his head. His brows furrowed, as his mind became conflicted. Could he take a life that easily? Naomi saw his hesitation and grew frustrated.

  “Jesus shit, Mike! If you don’t kill him, I will.” Mike jumped slightly at her anger before nodding. He cocked the gun and pressed it to Jackson’s forehead.

  “If my faith were stronger, I'd pray to God to put anyone else in your position...” Jackson chuckled, staring Mike in the eyes. "I'll see you in hell, Mike." Mike’s expression firmed, before pulling the trigger.

  BANG!

  To be continued...