Rise Of Hades' Hellborn: The Seven Trumpets Of The Damned

In the streets of New York City cars sped by, people rushed off to their various occupations and on the surface it seemed like life was normal. Normalcy was maintained by the enforcement of the cops against internal disturbance and the US military against external attacks. And yet there were others who operated in the shadows, others whose jobs were to deal with things that weren't supposed to exist. Those people were the real enforcers of normalcy because they fought against supernatural foes and ensured they stayed within the depths of the human imagination. They were known as the Paragon—a covert paramilitary organization funded by private interests to hunt and kill demons. The Paragon operated in tiers: Alpha, Beta, and Gamma—each team classified by the threat level they could handle. And then there were freelancers. Mercenaries, really. Hunters who did the job for money, but got the job done nonetheless. *** The night club pulsed with the loud blare of music. The air of the interior was thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. As Myles stepped inside, the music enveloped him. He found an empty booth at the bar and took a seat in order not to look suspicious. His cool grey eyes scanned the dance floor for eight minutes according to the cracked watch he had on his wrist —A gift from his mother. “ Anything you'd like to order” A female bartender murmured lustily into his ear making him turn sharply at the voice. “ Yeah sure I'll have a cold bottle of beer” Myles smiled. As she turned, Myles resumed his scan of the crowd. He wore a spotless cotton shirt under a black leather trench coat, with charcoal trousers and dark boots. His dark shoulder-length hair was tied loosely behind his head, save for three unruly locks draped across his forehead. He held a black Samsonite briefcase at his side. His appearance showed that he hadn't come here to party. “ Here you go” she said and dropped the bottle with a clink. “ Thanks” he replied and downed half the contents in three quick gulps while he retrieved a card the lady slipped into his pocket. The card held her phone and hotel number. “ I guess there's gonna be another score” He grinned when the girl was out of earshot. Three minutes ticked by while the clubbers danced undisturbed before he rose from his booth and climbed atop a table. Evening, everyone!” he called out. The music dimmed. Curious faces turned toward him. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m here to extract a demon. Kindly stay still while I pick him out.” The crowd murmured until Myles calmly drew two pistols from his briefcase. Faces stiffened. Panic threatened to spread—until he locked eyes with his target: a burly man sweating profusely despite the AC. The man’s fear flashed like a flare. “Gotcha,” Myles whispered. Three gunshots rang out in the blink of an eye. The man dropped. “You just shot somebody, man!” someone yelled in the crowd. “Did I?” Myles said coolly. “We’ll see in a minute.” As if on cue, the man’s body twitched—and then rose. Skin peeled back. Muscles bulged and tore. A monstrous form took its place: a four-armed demon snarling with hatred. “ Great, now let's get this over with” Myles smirked and fired multiple shots that failed to find their mark while the demon swerved rapidly to foul his aim. Myles continued until his pistols clicked silent, using the momentary lapse to the fullest the demon burst out of the building like a wrecking ball. Myles gave a sigh and got off the table. “ The beast's no longer here so you can all enjoy your evening” he said and went out of the club through the hole the demon had created. The demon had been running hard and turning back frequently till it was sure he wasn't being followed only to meet Myles emerge in front of it on a bike. The demon paused and gave off a low growl. “ Where are you running off to? We were just getting to know each other?” Myles grinned. The demon charged at him while Myles did likewise on his bike. He jumped off at the latest possible second and began his fire in mid air at the beast. Two rounds hit the fuel tank of the bike just as it collided with the demon resulting in an explosion. Myles rolled to his feet, ejected his mags from the pistols and began slamming in fresh magazines. “ That usually works” Myles muttered and walked up to the demon which was bloodied and struggling. “ Any last words, hell blood?” The demon suddenly got to his feet and dug it's hand into Myles chest. Blood spurted from his mouth as his cotton white shirt instantly turned crimson. “ You sapiens aren't aware of the Armageddon you ride into, soon enough demons shall no longer be just a fragment of human imagination” The demon hissed and dug in harder. “ Then you'll no longer be able to protect your paradise” “ Well” Myles gasped. “ Not today, ” he said through gritted teeth before retrieving a pistol from under his trench coat and fired a bullet into it's head. The hand was pulled out of his chest when the demon fell backwards to the ground dead. Myles fell to his knees a second after and took out the card given to him by the lovely bartender from his trench coat while his vision dimmed. “Guess I’ll have to cancel tonight’s plans… on account of being, well… dead.” He chuckled weakly, then glanced at the demon’s corpse. “ What does he mean by an Armageddon?” Myles wondered with a weak cough. “What did it mean—‘Armageddon’?” His thoughts were fading. The sound of sirens echoed faintly in the distance. Darkness crept in as he exhaled his final breath. Above, a dark cloud passed over the quarter moon. Tendrils of black smoke curled from the shadows, wrapping around Myles’ body. Th en, as though the earth itself had claimed him, he vanished—pulled into the ground.