Chapter I: Ballroom Blitz
It was
dark—it had always been dark. For nearly a millennium, the sky had been
perpetually bleak. A great evil had vexed the world and cast its shadow over
the world trying to suffocate the light. But the light was fighting back
through its champions. Champions like Azrael Chaos.
Azrael
walked the streets of Innsbruck, Austria toward his next assignment in a dank
but popular club. The streetlights were coming on, and all around him, people
were wandering the streets so self-engrossed that they were completely
oblivious to him.
Azrael
was a young man, standing six and a half feet tall with reddish-grey eyes, and
waist-length white hair. A unique appearance to say the least, but not so
unusual for a demon slayer.
He was
one of the best. Not only because he was a member of the Chaos family, the
first as well as one of the strongest demon slaying families, but he had also
been trained by the Maleiorcum[1],
demon slayer extraordinaires; and by the strongest Maleiocur[2]—Grand
Master Alaric.
Azrael
was dressed from neck-to-toe in black clothing with leather boots, gloves, and
a duster. The really interesting thing about his jacket though, was that it
bore the symbol of the Order of the Maleiorcum: a Gothic cross that almost resembled
a sword emblazoned on his jacket’s upper arms. The motto of the Order, Nihil
Sine Deo[3],
arched above the cross. Arched below it was the phrase Daemonium Interfectorem[4].
And
because every demon slayer was armed, Azrael carried a guitar in a vinyl case
that he had customized to be equipped with a submachine gun, shotgun, and axe
blade. He figured that he wouldn’t need his sword on this assignment.
This
assignment was supposed to be an easy job. The manager of a club had discovered
that one of his subordinates was a demon. Afraid of confronting the subordinate
himself, the manager decided to hire Azrael. It was supposed to be a weaker
demon and the pay wasn’t very good, but he needed food and grocers only
accepted cash.
Azrael
approached the inconspicuous entrance to the club. It was a small stairway
leading up into a building with a purple awning arching over it with an orange
neon sign above the awning reading “Aphrodite’s Heaven.” As he stepped over the
threshold, the bouncer walked up to him to ask for ID, but because he carried
an instrument he was freely admitted as performers were admitted regardless of
age despite that Aphrodite’s Heaven served alcohol and could host some racy
shows.
Azrael walked over to a table and took a chair facing the
stage. A waitress clad in a fake vinyl corset and a vinyl skirt barely capable
of covering her rear approached his table. Azrael ordered a shot glass and a
bottle of scotch, and observed the club from behind his bangs. It was a dark
place with lights shooting across the room in an array of colors. The club was
roomy with wide open spaces and the occasional load-bearing pillar
encircled by a spiral staircase leading to the second floor. People were
dancing to some kind of abhorrent music, while others were at their tables
talking, flirting, and creating foggy memories.
Azrael’s
whiskey came, and he tipped the waitress. As he poured himself a shot, a voice
came over the speakers largely distorted by the unnecessary high volume.
“Good
evening, everyone. Tonight, Aphrodite’s Heaven is proud to present ‘Exotic
Dances of the Dire East.’ So, grab a chair and please enjoy the show.”
Trouble
was though that Azrael hadn’t heard the announcement with that much clarity, and
after his shot, he had heard it worse. He peered into the shot glass with one
eye, felt the inside of it with his finger, tasted it, and decided that the
whiskey had been laced. He didn’t touch the rest.
The
whiskey had made his mind foggy, so he leaned back and made sure he could
remember the finer details of his assignment. He remembered that he would be
working with someone else, a woman. Although he persisted that he wouldn’t need
a partner, the manager insisted to ensure that the job would be done. He also
made sure he could remember what the target looked like, and remembered how it
was supposed to go down.
The
act was supposed to be done in his partner’s room. She would use her sensuality
to lure the target into a false sense of security and hopefully, he would
reveal his true nature—demons loved stupid humans and women were their favorite
sport. Azrael would then leap in and finish him. But now, his stomach was full
of butterflies and he could feel his adrenaline rising. Something was off.
Azrael
looked around. People were on edge, and he worried that he’d lose his pay to
damages. He also began to wish he had brought his sword. Just then, Rock music
mixed with creepy ambient sound effects started playing and the lights hit the
stage.
Three
women, belly dancers dancing in the gothic style, appeared, and Azrael noticed
something strange. Two of the women looked blasé while the third, the middle
girl, was smiling. It wasn’t a fake, showy smile either; she was genuinely
happy about something. More than once she looked at Azrael and winked at him.
What was her game?
Azrael
tried to decipher the middle dancer’s intentions, but as the show went on
though, he found himself staring intently at the girl. She had fair skin and
was about five foot ten. She had raven hair in a long bob cut, and she was
full-bodied, but still possessed perfect hourglass curves. She also had the
bluest eyes Azrael had ever seen.
She
wore a black outfit with a plain top that gave her the support that a buxom
girl like her would need and left her beautiful stomach uncovered. She had a
skirt that covered her both front and back, but was slit along the sides of her
legs. Lastly, she wore a black choker on her neck with oval garnets in it.
Azrael
thought she was absolutely gorgeous, and he couldn’t remove his gaze. Not just
because he was attracted to her, but because another spell had bewitched him.
He knew it wasn’t malevolent though. It contoured itself to his mind, body, and
soul just like the most comfortable beds in the world. The spell’s aura was
safe, warm, and loving.
He was
so comfortable that it took a semi-violent shake from the waitress to snap him
out of it. Azrael looked up at her disdainfully. But then she dropped a note
onto his table. Written on the note were instructions from his employer saying
to “follow the belly dancer with the black and red choker so as to take care of
the problem.”
Azrael
looked up to the girl who had lulled him into a waking dream. She looked right
at him. He had never felt eye contact so tangible before. Then with an
extremely subtle nod and point with her chin, Azrael turned his head around
slowly in the direction she pointed. There was the target; tall, skinny, and
snide-looking. Azrael brushed his calf against the guitar case for
reassurance’s sake.
The show
then reached its climax with a heavy, quick drum solo and shifting pelvises.
Azrael reached for the guitar case when the music died, but stalled when he
heard a heavy clapping. The belly dancers, who were bowing to the crowd, looked
up as everyone looked around to the target who was approaching the stage,
clapping loudly.
Something
was definitely off. There was electricity in the air prompting Azrael to grab
the handles on his guitar case. Something was about to go down and Azrael
prayed that Rock God!, his weaponized guitar would keep him on top.
As the
target approached the stage, he said, “What a beautiful performance. All due
thanks to our gracious host.” The target turned to the manager who sat on the
second floor and a yellow spotlight shone on him.
The
mark then walked on stage and wrapped one arm around Azrael’s partner, making
her appear very tense. And then a chill shot through Azrael. The room was
crawling with demons, and the head honcho was onstage. They were still
oblivious to Azrael’s presence though; he had learned how to subdue his aura
very well.
“But
alas,” continued the target, “this pretty little head will never be seen
again.”
Azrael
sensed the threat and rose. He kicked his chair out behind him, threw the case
up with one hand, caught the bottom with his other, unzipped it at a speed
almost inhuman, tipped it slightly so the guitar fell into his hand, and he
threw the case away. Finally he performed a complicated but well rehearsed
movement with the whammy bar, and two gun barrels slid out from the headstock.
He aimed at the mark’s head. “Let her go!”
“Azrael
Chaos!” exclaimed the target. “Didn’t expect you here.”
“Yeah,
I’m full of surprises.” Azrael was aware that the circle of demons around him
was closing-in in some spots, faltering in others, and some were in full
retreat.
“We
have you surrounded.”
“None
of you are a real challenge,” said Azrael, his aim unwavering. “None of them
are above the basic Angel. And you’re barely a Principality yourself.”
“Cocky.
But I wonder, is this girl really worth so much to you that you would risk open
combat with so many ‘innocents’ around?”
“A
human’s worth is always greater than a demon’s.”
“Ah!
So, you don’t know her true worth.”
Azrael
shrugged. “C’est la vie.”
He
rapidly picked the first three strings on the guitar spraying machine gun
rounds at the stage. The target grabbed the dancer and jumped off the stage
with demonic prowess. Thankfully, Azrael had made sure that none of his fire
had endangered the other performers. Despite that, the next instant was
pandemonium. People were fleeing for their lives and more than a dozen demons
were leaping toward Azrael.
Azrael
plucked the fifth string of the guitar, pumped the shotgun by sliding his hand
from the seventh fret up to the twelfth, aimed at seemingly nothing but
darkness to the left of his head, and plucked the sixth string. A deafening
blast came from the end of the guitar along with the death moan of a deterred
demon.
He
pumped the shotgun and aimed at darkness again. This time, a splatter of guts
accompanied the blast and death wail. Azrael continued to shoot seemingly blind
into the darkness all the while working his way toward the stage to spot the
target who had leapt up to the second floor to deal with the manager.
Azrael
tried one of the spiral staircases, but people of all kinds were running
franticly down it and screaming. Azrael jumped from where he was onto the
stage, which was about ten feet away and chest high. He then repelled off the
wall and staircase to get up to the second floor. He landed over the railing
gracefully enough to allow a small turn back to blast a demon who had tried to
follow him.
After
Azrael fought his way through a massive crowd, and at least two more demons, he
found his employer lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. He was certainly
dead. Luckily, the target had stepped in the blood and left a trail.
Azrael
followed the tracks to a door leading to an emergency staircase where he
followed the tracks upward. At the roof, he kicked the door open so hard that
it broke at its hinges. There, standing near the edge of the building, was the
target with one of his arms transformed into a demonic claw with one of the
talons across the dancer’s neck. Azrael raised the guitar to the sky, and
crossed the roof casually, digging in his pocket for more shells.
“You
are a brash one, Azrael Chaos,” said the target in a resonating, demonic voice.
“I am
supposed to be one of the best,” replied Azrael, shoving the shells into the
guitar’s body. He then finger slid up the neck.
“That’s
what I heard, but I never heard you were so careless.”
“What
do you mean?” He was genuinely interested but asked in such a way as to mock
the mark.
“Discharging
your weapon in full view of the public, allowing your employer to be slain; you
need to go back to school.”
“First
off,” started Azrael, “I’m a demon slayer. All discharges are necessary.
Secondly, requiescat in pace, and thirdly…well, I hope I still get paid.”
“‘Rest
in peace?’ Is that all you can say for your dire failure to protect an
‘innocent?’”
“Unfortunately.
But he’s with Hyperion now.
“As
you will soon be.” The demon pointed his claw at Azrael.
Azrael
leveled his guitar at the demon.
“After
such failure, you would dare to fi—umph!”
The
belly dancer had taken the opportunity to back kick the target in the crotch
with her heel. As he let her go, she bent him forward and slammed her hip into
his face. She then dashed to Azrael’s side who plucked the fourth string on the
guitar switching modes and started spraying machine gun fire into the demon’s
head and chest. Once the girl had cleared the firing range, Azrael switched
back to the shotgun and let the blasts echo as he advanced.
When
the demon stopped thrashing, Azrael stopped firing, but he didn’t lower his
guitar. He feinted a turn away, but then pressed down the volume dial and
flipped the guitar around to hold the neck as an axe blade slid from the body
of the guitar. He spun back around, and smashed it into the chest of the rising
demon. This time, the target fell to the ground convincingly.
Azrael
dusted off his gloves and walked over to the girl. “I hope we still get paid
for this.”
“Me,
too,” said the girl with a sweet smile. “My name is Nissa Omen, by the way.”
“Pleasure,”
replied Azrael unenthused. “You know my name, right?”
“Well…
yes. But I would prefer a proper introduction,” she gently prodded.
Azrael
groaned. “I am Azrael Chaos.”
“It’s
a pleasure to meet you, Azrael Chaos,” replied Nissa. She smiled and looked up
into his eyes.
“Lust
is… blind,” came a voice from behind them.
Azrael
turned around to see the demon, or rather, what was left of him, get up from
the ground. The axe stuck out from his chest and didn’t hinder him from
walking. “This… isn’t… over,” said the demon between rattling breaths. “I can
still move… and I still need to finish my… mission.”
Azrael
turned back to Nissa and in a bored tone said, “Do you mind if I waste him
right now?”
“Knock
yourself out.”
Azrael
turned back to the demon, opened his hand casually, and waited a few seconds.
Eventually, a huge sword came flying through the air and crashed into the roof
of the building. It was a true greatsword: six feet long with a blade that was
almost five feet long and six inches wide with the hilt measuring a little
longer than a foot. The last foot of the blade ended in two very sharp tines.
The pommel was a six-sided diamond and the crossguard had the shape of the
Chaos Angel, an intricate, but ambiguous figure that looked to be made mostly
of wings. Only Chaos Blades, swords belonging to the Chaos family, held this
telltale distinction.
Azrael
closed his hand around the grip and lifted it up easily despite its immense
size. He walked within striking distance of the demon, lifted the gigantic
sword over his head, and brought it crashing down. But it hadn’t met its mark.
The
demon used the last of its energy to run around Azrael, pulled out the guitar,
and made a grab for Nissa. But it missed as Nissa bent over backwards into a
flip and kicked the demon in the head with her bare foot. It smashed his head
against a chimney, and spent a few seconds righting itself.
When
it realigned its remaining eye with Nissa, she started shaking her hips and it
was stopped in its tracks. Azrael stopped to look at the spectacle before him.
The demon looked both comforted and in pain. She had paralyzed him with the
sensuous movements of her dancing. He would have continued to analyze what he
was seeing, but Nissa looked at him. “What are you waiting for?”
Azrael
snapped to and brought his sword into both his hands and charged forward. He
cut across, back diagonally, launched the demon up with a mighty kick, skewered
it, and then jumped into the air catapulting him downward into the roof
breaking the concrete into chunks. He then finished it off with a stab down
into the spinal cord severing the head off. As the head popped up, a strange force
smashed it into dust in midair. Azrael turned to Nissa who had her hip jutting
out.
Azrael wiped his
sword down with a white cloth, smoke curling up from where the rag met the demon blood, before placing it on his back and walking over to Nissa. When he
got to her, she innocently stared up into his eyes as he said, “Miss Omen, you
have some explaining to do.”
***
“It was dark—it had always been dark.”
Azrael Chaos is a demon slayer for the Order of the Maleiorcum. While on a job, he meets the beautiful Nissa Omen who can control the minds of others with her dancing. After discovering a plot enacted by the forces of Hell that centers on Nissa, Azrael takes her to the monastery where he completed his training to protect her. But things become more complicated when Azrael’s old rival and suspected demon general, Mammon Zebulun, takes an interest in her.
Before the forces of darkness can execute their dastardly plan for world domination and turn the tide against God’s holy warriors, Azrael must face the faults in his faith and find the strength necessary to save Nissa.
Let the Gothic Epic begin.
***
If you enjoyed this excerpt for Remnants of Chaos: Chaotic Omens, you can purchase it here on Amazon. Available in both Kindle and paperback editions. The Kindle edition is free for download until this Saturday, Oct. 21st.
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