He could feel it, that venomous presence crawling and clawing at his spine.
The air around them grew hot. He could feel the weight pressing down hard on his shoulders. Sweat dripped down from his chin onto the metal platform at their feet. It took focusing his eyes on Seraph to prevent him from falling to his knees in horror. The hair on the back of his neck, under his hood, stood up on ends, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. He could see those steel covered boots slowly walking towards them the screeching sound the end of a spiked club trailing on the grating accompanying those foreboding footsteps.
It was unmistakable.
"Well, well, well...The 'heroes' have come to visit..." That voice was deep, laced with a growl as the monster chuckled, "You are as predictable as you are pathetic."
ArchAngel took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand as proud as he could, though his knees were still threatening to buckle. He could only be bolstered by Seraph stepping forward in front of him, holding her sword out before them.
Her silver eyes glowed like the moon under the bright fluorescent light of the warehouse. Her gaze was steady, held with a stoic strength, "We are honored to meet your acquaintance once again, Wrath." She held her katana close to her as she turned her upper torso to the side, her sturdy legs steady as she faced this crimson and ebony demon head-on, "You will not capture us this night."
"Capture?" The monster's massive shoulders shuddered as it released a deep, guttural laugh, "No. I don't intend to capture you." The laughter stopped; everything grew silent; the only side that could be heard was its heavy deep breaths.
The rhythmic silence was only broken by the loud POP resounding off the walls as the demon tilted its' head, "I intend to FEAST."
That roar ripped into him, just as it did the first time he came face to face with that demonic visage. It caused him to freeze as the monstrous being rushed forward, lifting that giant spiked club over them with one arm, slamming it down. Seraph raised her sword and grunted as its steel collided with the ungodly weapon, the impact thunderous.
That sound of steel on steel shook ArchAngel out of his panic, and he turned to cut through the monsters' side with his blades.
He gasped as his swords clashed Wraths' left arm, stopping his swords cold, sparks flying. The only damage done was slicing through the fabric, revealing a black and silver cybernetic limb. A low growling laugh shook forth from the demon as it lifted that free arm away from his swords and swiftly jutting it forth, gripping his throat.
"ArchAngel!" Seraph jumped back and lashed forward, aiming her sword for that arm, only to have it blocked by that giant, spiked club. It should be unwieldy, yet it was an extension of Wrath itself.
The demons' body vibrated with its' chuckle, "The 'Dashing Hero' trying to sneak up on me...how stupid." It lifted him by his neck, easily dismissing his struggling and ignoring the slices against its demonic steel hold.
He gasped, swallowing down his panic. Confronting his fear, he lifted his head up, lips curling into a smirk, "So. You think I'm dashing?"
That grip tightened around his throat, and he almost dropped his hands. He gasped, a burning pain building against the flesh of his neck, those murderous crimson eyes on him, a guttural voice seething from that mask. "Hilarious, little mouse. You are not enough meat for me."
He felt his heart being squeezed as tightly that cold steel hand gripped his throat, hearing that voice. His eyes closed tightly, and his bottom lip trembled, his head lifted up, waiting for the sudden tilt that would break his neck.
Yet it never came.
The hand around his neck began to tremble. He opened his eyes.
Those eyes gazed towards his bruised jaw.
He coughed, forcing a light laugh to escape his lips, "Never seen anyone so good looking, monster?"
There was no movement, no reaction except for those eyes, studying him. In fact, they almost...recognized him.
"Let him go, Wrath!" Seraph pushed forward, her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as she tried to get the demons' attention, "I am your meal! Not him!"
The furious spark of hatred returned to those blood-red pools, and Wrath chuckled, "You're right. I've been waiting years for this..."
Those metal fingers freed his neck, dropping him.
Tristan watched as Seraph stepped onto the jails, leaning forward to jump after him only for her ankle to be grabbed, her intentions denied. He shook his head, regaining his focus and sheathing one of his swords, grabbing onto one of the lower metal platforms, feeling it swing back. He took a deep breath, trying to use the momentum to aim for one of the windows of the warehouse.
"Seraph is MINE! Finish off the boy!"
That roar once more ravaged his core, and he let go of the railings, panting feeling the fear grip him. He groaned, seeing those guns pointing at him, the goons finally moving into action. He jumped back, holes and cracks appearing onto the ground as bullets drilled into the ground. He unsheathed his sword and turned both blades towards the lights. The reflection blinded the mobsters, allowing him to press his back against a wall for cover. His heart pounded rapidly and loudly in his ear, continually ringing. He breathed deeply to focus on the task at hand.
Survive.
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