Demons of Abyss - Retribution

Chapter 12

There must be another exit, but how the hell am I supposed to find it in that huge building? I can't get through the garage, because there are a lot of prospects hanging around. Even the main gate, which was open on my last visit, is locked. Maybe I can get outside through one of the windows? But there are bars everywhere. No matter how much I think about it, in the end I can only think of the garage again. If I take everyone out one by one and manage to keep them from raising the alarm, we might have a chance. I press myself against the wall again and disappear into the shadows. The girl is shaking and looks like she's about to fall over. But she follows me, as I continue to move along the wall. I admire her for it, it must cost her an incredible amount of strength. After a few meters I stop at the door that leads into the garage. Voices can be heard behind it. Damn. One of them is getting closer, so I shoo the girl back to another door. I open it and peek through the crack. A bare stairwell is visible. Immediately after, I hear the squeak of the doorknob. There is no more time. I grab her skinny arm and quickly push her through the door. "Hide." Before anyone can get through the door, I disappear into the shadows of the house wall. But it was too late. His shoes crunch on the sandy floor as he approaches. I reach for one of my throwing knives, feeling the cold metal steady me. I take a breath and focus on my target. The big guy tilts his head, as if he's not sure if I'm a threat. When he stops in the beam of one of the windows and I see a grin on his face, I hesitate. Maybe, he doesn't see my knife? But at that moment, the door I sent the girl through earlier is yanked open. The girl, who now lands on her knees and palms in the sand. She gasps and seems even weaker than before. Behind her emerges a lanky guy with a few tattoos on his face, standing out against his pale skin. Okay. Now it's over with my plan to get out of here alive. But I'm not going to give up without a fight. So I lunge to throw my knife and hit the huge guy with it. But before, I let the knife slip from my fingers, I feel a thud on my back. The knife falls to the ground. I lose my balance and stumble forward a few steps. The pain blocks my breathing for a few seconds. When I turn around and face my attacker, I realize it's the prospect who was driving the car earlier. He is quite a bit taller than me, and his blond hair is sticking up tangled from his head. His body is athletic, but the expression on his face does not fit with it. An expression of indecision. He's definitely not as depraved as the other Demons yet. And yet, I have to take him out. Then the baton in his hand twitches and he slowly approaches me. He must have made up his mind, because the uncertainty is gone from his face. I look down at the ground, at my knife that I lost earlier. Then I turn my attention back to the baton. I hate these things. He lunges for a punch, but I react quickly before the other two can rush to his aid. I duck under the baton, grab his hand, kick his kneecap and twist his wrist so unnaturally that it cracks, and the thing falls to the ground. He screams in pain. To make sure, he can't be a danger to me anymore, I raise my knee and ram it into his face. The renewed cracking confirms to me that his nose has a blemish from now on. He falls backwards and remains motionless. Then I turn around and turn my attention to the other two, who come at me like wolves. The drought one is the first to try his luck.

"Are you lost?"

A crazed smile settles on his face. His pupils are huge. The shaved skull and high cheekbones make him look like a zombie in the shadows of the night. As he walks toward me, he rambles on.

"If a b***h like you attacks one of us, we'll find her and make her pay."

His voice hits all kinds of notes at a single sentence. My conclusion is, that he must be crazy or has killed his brain cells with drugs. Whatever the reason is, I need to take him out, and I'm going to do it fast. He annoys me and makes me nervous. People like him are unpredictable. So I keep myself ready. However, part of my attention is on the second guy, who is also approaching. I blend out everything else. There are only my attackers and me. A small world of chaos. And then it comes, just as I thought it would. The drought one grabs a long hunting knife and lunges uncontrollably at me, while the other one also pulls out a weapon and comes at me. The drought catches me in my ribs as I spin away. It feels like a scratch, but it might as well be a deep cut. The adrenaline doesn't let you feel the pain for now. Right after that, I get a kick in my kidneys from the big guy.

I stumble and get back on my feet three steps later. I turn around and fortunately intercept another blow from the skinny guy. I grab his hand, raise my knee and hurl it against his elbow, which I push down with my hands. It cracks, and I'm glad he's skinny and has no muscles. Because then his elbow joint wouldn't be shattered right now and the knife would be at my feet. He screams and grabs his arm with his other hand before frantically lunging at me. I lunge for a high kick and not a second later he is lying motionless on the ground. The second guy, however, gives me a hard time. He's agile and strong. The grin on his face has disappeared, and he confidently throws the knife back and forth between his hands. His dark eyes are fixed on me. A crease appears between his eyebrows, as if he is thinking about something, before he carelessly tosses the knife in his hand to the ground and grins at me in response. Like he's actually looking forward to fighting me. He loves a challenge and that's more dangerous than the best fighting technique. I draw the air deep into my lungs. Voices can be heard. We've attracted all the attention by now. And I know it. I know, that I have failed. I know it's over now. I will not get my revenge. I'm going to die. But maybe I can take some of them with me. Spotlights suddenly illuminate the courtyard. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the glare. Though I am focused on my counterpart, I scan the surroundings' fleetingly. People are coming out of the bar. They all stare at me and my opponent. Above the bar is something like a balcony. The door behind it is open, and I recognize a shadow inside.

A couple of guys want to come to the aid of my opponent, but what he is doing now, proves to me once again that he likes to fight. He raises his hand and shakes his head.

"She's mine."

Then he turns his gaze back to me. A smirk is on his lips. And even though I should be afraid, I'm looking forward to facing an equal opponent. The crowd roars. 'Finish the bitch.' 'She's just a pussy.' I ignore the voices, focus on my opponent. He comes at me, feints with his right foot, and then kicks his left against my thigh, knocking me off balance. It hurts, but I know I need to keep my muscles under tension to reduce injury. I take advantage of his next attack. He wants to come at me head on and tries his fists. I keep my guard up and am able to dodge all of his punches. I land a hit in the pit of his stomach, whereupon he exhales with a groan. His body is under tension as well as mine. The way he fights and moves, lets me know, he must have a lot of experience.

We exchange a few blows, but none of them decides the fight. We both breathe heavily and blood drips from our noses onto the sandy ground. His black hair, cut into a Mohawk, is also full of blood as I gave him a laceration on the back of his head. One of his eyes is swollen shut and red liquid runs from his lip down his chin. I must look similar. My jaw hurts from the blow I took. Blood and sweat burn in my right eye and I know I have a laceration above my eyebrow. But I can take it. I'm used to pain and if these are my last minutes, I'm glad I'm not dying a coward's death. I will fight to the bitter end. And that is what I do. I fight until I get lucky and catch him with a kick to the side of his rib cage. He gasps. Goes to the ground and stays there. I put my last ounce of strength and anger into the punch and surely break a few ribs. He's breathing hard and yet, as I straighten up and stare into his face, I realize that one corner of his mouth is twitching. It's as if he's smiling.

The roar and voices of the people who now surround me, tear my attention away from my defeated opponent. It is a large crowd of people who stare at me, as if I were a leper. There is disgust in their eyes.

There are also a few girls among them, whose skirts are so short that you can definitely see what or what they're not wearing underneath. Then I look next to these girls, into the hateful eyes of the men standing around me, and at that moment I know I am going to die. Maybe it was meant to be, maybe I was meant to die here, this way. In front of the eyes of the demons. Fate really is a stupid asshole. When one of the guys shouts "Get the beast!", I expect the worst. When thereupon dog barking sounds, I know what's coming now. It's hopeless anyway. So I take a chance. I do what Ben has shown me. What my instincts tell me to do. These dogs have been drilled. They do it because a sick human wants them to follow his commands. But their instincts are actually telling them something else. I breathe in and hold my breath...one, two, three...I breathe out and hold my breath and close my eyes. It's not until the sound of dogs barking gets closer that I open my eyes. It is a large black German shepherd. His teeth are bared, and he throws himself with all his weight against the chain on his neck. A colossus of a guy is holding the leash and his look does not betray anything good. He wants to scare me with his hesitation, but I won't let him. Ever since, I had to watch my parents die, I have forbidden myself to let that feeling ever enter my body again. I seek eye contact with the huge dog and when I'm sure he sees me, I close my eyes. I inhale...hold my breath...one, two, three...and exhale. I open my eyelids, stare into the dog's eyes, and close them again for a moment. Then I go to my knees. Everything on my body aches, but I keep my pulse down. I want to show the dog that there is no danger from me. I want to tell him it's okay. No matter what he does. It is all right with me. I ignore the shouts from people that the dog will maul me and there will be nothing left of me. I block it out. I block out everything around me. There is only this brown-eyed furry giant and me. And then, then he lets go of him and at that moment I close my eyes again before opening them again, baring my teeth and letting out a growl. The dog sprints towards me, and I am sure that my plan will not work. But I try to push that thought far away. I remain calm.

And then, when the dog has reached me, I give a "shhh". Not too loud, but not too quiet either. He barks. He barks so loudly. Saliva sprays from his lips, but he doesn't attack me. He even calms down. The barking dies down and he comes closer. His hackles are still up, but now he finally smells me. He perceives me. He doesn't see me as a thing his owner wants to be destroyed, he sees me as a living thing. Slowly, I reach out my hand and let him sniff. I whisper a soft "It's all right" and his cold muzzle touches my fingers. In that second, I feel peace. Such a creature, trained to kill and yet in its heart, it is still kind. Time stops as one of the corners of my mouth manages to slide up. The brown eyes stare at me. There is nothing evil in them anymore. Only curiosity and pain. However, a loud crash bursts this bubble of time. At first, I don't know what happened. Am I hit? Was I shot at? But right after that I hear a heartbreaking sound. A whimper. The cold snout no longer touches my fingers. The creature in front of me falls to the ground. The kind brown eyes slowly close before a small tear flows from one corner of his eye. Tears from my eyes join them. Why?

"Stupid critter!"

I look up in disbelief. I stare at the figure now marching toward me. A pistol pointed at me. The giant who held the dog on a leash earlier. He just killed him? His companion? I wipe the tears from my cheeks and stare once more at the man-made weapon, not born evil. Then I feel the anger and hatred bubbling up inside me. I feel it under my skin. I am so infinitely angry, and I will take this bastard to my grave. I slowly stand up. I ignore the pain. However, I don't ignore the anger I have for this motherfucker. I wait until he is standing in front of me, his gun pointed at me. His face is dark red with anger.

"You stupid cunt, you made my mutt a p***y. Now I can get another one."

He comes even closer. I ignore his words. I wait until the gun almost touches my face. I do the same thing I did with that Bull. I stare at his feet. His footing is not solid. They all have the problem: they think they are invincible. But I turn under the gun and slap the back of my hand against his inner wrist. With my other hand, I grab the barrel of the gun and push it in the opposite direction. It cracks. He lets go of the gun. In a flash, I have it in my hand and the barrel pointed at the bald giant in front of me. The fucker stares at me, as if he can't believe what just happened. Until, after a second, something like panic appears on his face. I almost want to pull the trigger, but then I hear a click behind me and then another and another. I glance back. Three guys are standing next to and behind me with their guns pointed at my head. I can't help but think, that this scum killed an innocent being in front of me. So I know I'm taking him to his death. Everything is playing out in my mind's eye. My life, the death of mom and dad. My family who raised me. Then I'm ready. My finger is already on the trigger, but a loud voice makes me pause.

"I want her alive! None of you pull the trigger."

For a moment, I'm distracted. I search for the source of the deep voice. Everyone in the crowd suddenly stares up. And there, like a king ruling over his subjects, he stands. West, whose dark eyes look at me. Without any feeling. Without any emotion. His large hands rest on the balcony railing, his striking features visible in the cone of light. It is this balcony where I imagined I saw a shadow earlier. He's wearing a dark shirt, and I can see his fingers gripping the railing tightly. Like he has to suppress a feeling with all his strength. I'm distracted. As I stare again at the guy in front of me and at the other three, whose guns are pointed at my head, I see an opportunity. He wants me alive, and he's going to regret this. So I look back up at him and he stares back at me. I secure the gun and point my palms upward. Slowly, it slips from my fingers. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I meet his gaze. I want him to know I'm not afraid to die. The gun lands on the ground with a thud and not a second later I feel a punch in my kidneys. I groan and sink to my knees. I can hardly breathe. Another blow hits me in the back. I fall forward where my fingers dig into the sand. The smile is still on my lips. So long, until I take a blow to the back of my head, and after the searing pain, only a dense, black mist waits, with dark eyes staring at me through it. Eyes so dark, so cold.