This was actually an assignment of mine, and written for my siblings, so it's directed towards younger age group. Either way, enjoy!
- Peace <3
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“Father, help me in battle. Let me defeat the evil, and fulfil my tasks.”
Michael, the hybrid teen; son of an angel and human, was one of the greatest demon hunters. His father the Greater Angel created and designed the Heaven’s Pistol, the only weapon in the dimensions that could kill any being, mortal or immortal. In the Great War between the Angels and Demons, the pistol was lost to evil. The three different children of the Devil; vampires, werewolves, and witches, took the gun and gave each group a part so the entire pistol could never be under the control of the Angels. The werewolves took the bullets, the witches took the clip and the vampires have the gun. Michael now made it his mission to get back what was stolen from his family.
On his way, an angel appeared and gave him a bottle of a serum to heal his wounds and restore his health, explaining that it was a savior to Angels but death to a Demon. He took it gratefully and continued, travelling until he arrived at the head coven where the Master Demons of each group held a part of the pistol. He fought through swarms of vampires, his twin blades in hand – one laced with silver for werewolves and the other laced with cloud gold for vampires. Witches tried to entrance him into their traps, splashing pixie blood in his eyes to put him under the spell of their beauty. His father’s blood in his veins helped him ward the trances away. The wolves were difficult to kill; poisonous foam dripped between their teeth and onto his boots, slightly eroding the leather.
Bursting through a set of doors, Michael found himself trapped in the Chamber of Guards. The Master witch, werewolf and vampire each sat in their own thrones, and behind them the case holding their part of the pistol to which their lives were dedicated to guarding. In front of them sat four of the Devil’s Advocates, Satan’s favorite pet. The beasts looked like panthers with wings, having tails and talons that seared flesh. They sat at the feet of their masters as if they were police dogs – their noses twitched but they were completely still, disciplined but deadly, waiting for the simple cue to attack the criminal in sight.
The Master Vampire lounged in his throne with a silver sword balanced across his knee. He spoke for all three immortals, proposing a challenge to Michael. If he could kill all four of the Devil’s Advocates, with one hand and one blade, they would take the parts out of the cases and lay them in the open. It would make it easier for Michael to grab, but he would still have the three leaders to fight.
Michael accepted giving up his silver blade, knowing that although it might’ve been easier to take them all on while he was fully armed, he was over confident in his extremely precise hand-to-hand combat. He battled the beasts for what seemed like forever, only managing to kill two. Another gave his calf three slashes with its forked tail, but got close enough for Michael to drive his blade down its side. It howled and scrawled backwards, crashing into the other. Being the animals they were, they started to fight amongst themselves, rolling and slashing, burning each other with their blows.
The Master Vampire grew furious, with embarrassment and failure, and Michael took the angry vulnerability as a chance to throw his only blade – the one laced with gold - where it stuck straight between the vampire’s eyes. Hurriedly, Michael dug in his pocket and drew the serum he was given, popped the cap and threw it at the witch. As she sizzled to his left, Michael dashed to the vampire’s throne and took the nightwalkers silver saber. Just as the werewolf lunged, Michael took the sword’s cold hilt and drove forward, impaling the shifter as it came towards him. The immortal witch was gone due to the serum, but he had only a few minutes until the wolf and vampire were resurrected. He grabbed both his blades from the vampire’s body and elbowed the glass of each of the three cases. Snatching their contents, Michael put the gun together and slid it into the empty holster inside his boot.
With his leg burning from the scolding lash, he struggled to make his way out of the room and back into the halls where the Devil’s children crawled. Adrenaline, pride and fear of being hunted by two angry Masters were enough to give him the drive to slice his way out of the lair.
