Good Morning, Demon Hunter O2A

[saint]

It was one hell of a sight to open up to in the morning, that was for sure, everything he saw in that woman the night before had been multiplied by hundreds with the addition of clarity and light, she was truly spectacular.

He would blink.

Once. Twice. A Third Time.

Just to check that he wasn't dreaming.

Then...

What the fuck? Where did she go? The woman who Peter Saint saw just disappeared, out of his line of vision, he looked left, right, all directions, she was gone. It was just another drug trip, these injections had him seeing all kinds of shit.

But then, what the fuck was it itching against his face? Peter Saint would deftly rub his fingers across his cheek and stare at them, dark lipstick, a kiss, she was real.

But where had she gone?

He wasn't sure, not at all, it was too early to be pondering things of such importance, and the rhythmic pound of pain against his skull wasn't helping, there was always that wipeout after a heavy trip that left him almost completely out of everything, in pain and out of focus, was it really worth it? Those few meager moments of happiness?

Yes they goddamn were.

Peter Saint would rise from his bed, rubbing his head slowly before walking over to his bag, flinging a jacket over his shoulders, he wasn't sure where he was going or what he was doing, but he needed to track that woman down.

What was her name? What did she call herself, again?

Sara?

That name brought back too many bad memories, he wouldn't allow her to defile that name, she was nothing more than another demon whore, spawned from the lust experienced by lesser men, he wouldn't fall into her trap.

And then.

A knock at the door.

Tap-a-tap-a-tap.

The knock continued, what would anyone want with him? He was nothing more than a junkie hiding it out in a hotel.

Wait. How did he even get to that hotel?

Too many fucking questions.

Saint would fling open his bag, searching for something in case things turned hostile, he would pull a small dagger out of his pocket, a present from God, the blade would cut through anything, with a snicker-snack noise as it cut through the flesh of demons. It was Peter Saint's Vorpal Dagger.

He would walk to the door, slowly open it and be surprised at what he saw in the doorframe, certainly nothing he would've expected...

Open to All.

[Guest]

Zero Signal?? What was he doing there? Certainly this was out of the blue. Was he out for a stroll? Or did this walk over to some hotel into this room serve some kind of purpose. Or maybe Zero was just confused of where he was? Amnesia was a fickle thing. The only thing constant of it, was that it made memories disappear. No one really knew the other effects that it could have. So..why was he here? Even he didn't know....

[/i]

Uh...hi.[/center]

[Jacob Cruise]

Showing up right behind Zero....None other than Jacob 'Motherfuggin' Cruise. He's decked out in wizard garb, don't ask why, the answer is sure to come soon. Holding something, an unidentifiable object, in his right hand, he gives a quick wave motion with his left.

"Um...Hey. Is this...the uh....Dungeons and Dragons meeting place?....Oh, sweet! Nice dagger dude. Is it, uh...part of the game? Looks pretty real for a game piece.....Hey, shouldn't there be more people here?"

Cruise peaks over the mans shoulder into the room. Hm, didn't look anything like what Kincaid had described. He then turns back to the first man that had knocked on the door just moments before he arrived...

Heh...Nice robot costume.....dork...

Like he had room to talk, his wizard hat drooping over the side of his face...Now addressing both men...

See, my buddy Cameron told me that you guys all got together here to play Dungeons and Dragons. I've never played before....But Cam reassured me the game involved lots o' tits and beer....And.....well....I can never pass up a good time with tits and beer.....So,....wheres the tits?....and the beer? More importantly at this current moment in time....The beer..."

[Guest]

This night was getting weirder and weirder. First Zero shows up for some unknown reason and now this guy shows up in some weird looking clothing talking about...dungeons and dragons? Zero definitely felt clueless. He still didn't know why he was out here, or what led him out here. Zero just shrugged his shoulders and replied.

[/i]

Dungeons and Dragons?? I really have no idea what you are talking about. I'm out here because...Hell, I don't even know why I'm here. Something compelled me to come out here. To this room specifically, and I have no clue why....So now I'm standing here with a guy and a dagger in his hand, looking like he's ready to stab me, and then you wearing....gods knows what....I feel like I'm in a movie gone wrong.[/center]

[Jacob Cruise]

Ah, this is all part of the game right? Jack with the new guy....right?......Right!?

The looks on their faces show that they we're serious.

Damn it! Kincaid...that bastard....I should have known better than to listen to him when I was drunk....and high.....and getting drunker...and getting higher....Damn, what were we taking about again?

One track mind....

Oh, right! You got any beer?

[Guest]

Kincaid...that name sounds familiar...oh yes, now I remember. He was being teased by a lady friend of his at the pool today. I don't think I caught her name, but I definitely caught your friends name. It seemed that he was in quite the predicament after his lady friend left. Almost like he didn't want to get up in front of everyone.

[saint]

Peter Saint would rub his eyes, these two were too good to be true, were they real or were they just another side-effect of his night life? Hell, it's been a fucked up night as is, what harm in another little dabble in the darker side of his subconscious? I mean, what is there to lose? They could turn out to be figments of a drug-addled mind, it's a fair bet.

Saint: 'What is it that you two want? From the looks of you two, I don't even need this.'

Saint tosses the blade to the ground, it glows ever so slightly and goes back to its blackness.

Saint: 'Truth be told, I don't give two shits about who either of you are, in the seconds you have been in my presence I have already noticed a couple of things. Firstly, neither of you have the right to an opinion or a say, as everything you spout from your mouths is registered as little more than rape inside my ears, and you're talking to a guy with a penchant for death metal.

Secondly, the fact that one of you was willing to come dressed in a 'costume' all to act as a visual aid to his poor little cliche of an insult proves that neither of you have anything at all to do with your lives. You come in and preach about 'dungeons and dragons', yet at the same time, the way of which you sought after that ever-elusive 'own', made you seem like little more than a bubbling idiot, a man who would've been better suited to being thought a fool, rather than opening his mouth and removing all doubt.

Finally, I have been off my face for the last week-and-a-half, too drunk to stand, too drugged to feel and now I'm coming off it with the God of all hangovers, my head is pounding, I can barely keep my eyes open, I just want to sleep and try to bring back a level of clarity to my judgement before I go out and sacrifice all the first-born-sons. When two of you idiots turn up at the door, doing little more than maneuvering your mouths, I'm goddamn surprised that I haven't flipped out already. One of you get a class, fill it with water, the other, get me a few panadols and then both of you can go out and order me a greasy breakfast, I need relief from this thrashing within my skull and neither of you are providing it here.

[Guest]

Umm, pardon me sir but, how exactly, do you fill a class with water? Are you sure you don't mean a glass? And I'm not the one that's going on about Dungeons and Dragons. He is. I'm trying to figure out of why I'm even here in the first place. And further more, I can assure you that what I am wearing is no costume. If I could find another set of clothes, I would. However, I am lacking in clothes at the moment. As for nothing to do with my life, I am actually trying to reconstruct my life. Well, I will once I get some money from this GCW company that I've signed on with...

[saint]

Saint: 'So. The man dressed like a goddamn robotic ronin from the Land of the Rising Sun is having trouble finding an alternate outfit? Maybe you could sell that little outfit and use it to buy some clothes that don't attract unwanted attention from metal detectors and cosplaying freaks.

Hell. You'll probably come back and try to explain to me the significance of your costume, wouldn't you, Robocop? Well, I've got a few polo shirts and jeans, nothing major, but I'm sure I could get you a pair of both, anything to provide a level of normality to my life, which, at the moment is in quite strange ways.

But what would you know? Would I be wasting my breath upon you if I explained to you about how in a past life I was nothing more than a humble fisherman, but, through a series of unexplainable events and catalysts, I ended up sitting across from the man that would be the Heavenly Father's only son?

Would I be wasting my breath if I told you about how I was strung up, upside-down and crusified for my own beliefs, and admidst that blinding pain, the gates of heaven opened before me and my soul was drawn to the kingdom above?

Would I be wasting my breath if I told you I was Heavensent by God in order to fight in his name as a crusador upon this Earth, in preperation for the Third Coming of his son?

Would I be wasting my breath if I told you God stopped caring for me, if he stopped listening, if he stopped hearing my pleas and left me high-and-dry in my moment of need?

Would I be wasting my breath if I told you I had love and inner peace, and God took them from me?

Would I be wasting my breath if I told you I had succubi following me, Demons holding grudges and an omnipotent creater of the universe turning his back upon me?

My life has been fucked over and over for my entire span of existance upon this mortal coil and you're telling me you're trying to reconnect the dots of your insignificant existance? When I ask you to bring me a glass of water and a few painkillers in order to dull the dullable pains in order to make the other pains more tolerable, you goddamn do it, or I will enact my own rage and vengeance and allow my Vorpal Dagger to cut through you with a snicker-snack.'

Peter Saint would lean back against the wall and go back to rubbing his eyes, he hadn't spoken of his past, not in years, it was good to vent, he needed a release like that.

[Guest]

The last thing you want to do is get into a fight with me. Calm down, go sit on your bed or in a chair and just breathe. It sounds like you've had quite the life thus far. But if it's one thing that I'm not gonna stand for, it's people telling me what to do. You want painkillers? Then get them yourself. And if you feel the need to try and cut me into little pieces, then I dare you. I dare you to try and see how fast you end up on your back with your own knife pointing towards your own neck. I do not take kindly to threats, so you best back up off me.

Could Zero really do what he just said he could do? He must be able to, somewhere in the clusterfuck of his mind, he must be able to. He knew he could fight, but he didn't know exactly what he was trained in. And that could make him a very dangerous man.

[/i][/center]

[saint]

Saint: 'You've obviously never been much of a negotiator, because daring a man to strike you, a man holding a blade christened with the blood of Satan himself, is never that great an idea. Now, I swore an oath to protect and love all mortal men from the moment I stopped being mortal, but it's people like you, people with this pervading arrogance about them that really make me want to slice your throat.

Now. You don't seem like a dumb man, nor do you seem like a weak man, so it would be a horrible waste for me to defile your facial features with the deft slices of my dagger, in case you didn't get what I just said, I'm threatening to fuck with your face fifteen-ways from friday with this sharp little slicer. Essentially, you'd look worse than a burns victim trapped on the 53rd floor of a burning building when I would be through, if you're a bible fan, look up Sodom and Gomorrah, it's an example of what can be achieved with the right motivation and the power vested in you by divine intervention.

But then again, you've heard my story, I have no angels looking over me, I can't rely on any Deus Ex Machina to come in and save my ass, not anymore, I can't...'

Saint would turn and walk over to his bag, Zero keeping his eyes firmly fixed upon him the entire time. Saint would pull out a small container, open it, and pour two small pills out onto his hand before swallowing them dry.

Saint: 'In case you were wondering those were prescription, I swear. But, onto the task at hand, I require a muse and a catalyst to regain my notoriety and get God's attention, and you have a desire for closure of your past and to also earn the ever-elusive wealth that you so sorely desire, so I propose this, you and I, Peter Saint and Zero in a match on the very first Global Championship Wrestling telecast. What do you say?'

[Guest]

What do I say....funny you should ask...

Zero charges without warning, going to strike Peter at his throat. Peter dodges in time and Zero ends up punching a giant hole in the wall. He then turns around, looking Peter dead square in the eye. Without even thinking, Zero grabs his mask and takes it off, showing the horror of his burnt and scarred face to Peter.

[/i]

You think you can mess up this face anymore than it already is? You think I care what else you could possibly do to this face? You ignorant little fuck. You think you're so god damn fucking special because some invisible man is fucking your life over? At least you have a god damn memory of your past. At least you can walk around not looking like a god damn freak. That's what I hate about you fucking religious people. You're so damn ignorant to everything around you that you think your own self righteous lives are more important than everyone elses.

So tell me, HOW am I gonna look worse than a victim of burn scars? LOOK AT ME! The fact that I still have skin on my face is a fucking miracle. Now you know why I wear this mask. You think I could walk out in public and live a normal fucking life? I can't. So while you're drowning yourself in alcohol and drugs, chasing after whatever fucking demons, I'm having to combat with today's society to just fucking fit in. Your life to me, is insignificant. While you're off dong god knows what, I am trying to put the pieces of my shattered fucking life back together with no god damn memory.

So, Mr. Self Righteous asshole, what do you think of my life now? Your threats mean nothing to me. I've been through hell and going through hell. Your threats are mere pests in the circle of bigger things.

Zero turns his head and places the mask back on. Peter had know seen what many would never truly see. Zero hoped his point had gotten across. But the rage that was suddenly unleashed without warning. Where did it come from? Could it be that what Peter said had hit a sore spot, or was there more? Zero would be looking for answers in the months to come.[/i][/center]

[saint]

Saint: 'Religious? You call ME religious? And to think my little spiel about how much I've been betrayed and left all alone would clue you in a bit more, I am not religious, I am not praying to some etheral being living high upon the stars, the only thing I believe in is that life, and everything attached to it, is an endless cycle of bullshit, you're born, you live, you die, you come back and do it all over again.

I've been through this all before, the first time I died for my religious ferver, you think I'd be willing to do it on my second run through? This time I'm living fast, dying young and getting some answers to the 'luck' that befell me in the years preceding. So, Toaster-face, I don't give a shit about you, nor do I care about that little accident with the frying pan that you're carting around upon your face, I promise you, I could do a hell-of-a-lot worse to you if I really put my mind to it.

You wear a mask to hide your deformity. Big fucking whoop. The 'hell' you've been through is metaphorical at best, I, I've waded through the River Styx numerous times, I've actually BEEN through that... that... place, and trust me, it sure as hell shits over any rainy days and bruises you've had to take in your life.

You are insignificant. Thats not trash talk. That's fact. There is nobody up above looking down and smiling upon you and your existance, you are a sleight-against-God and seeing as you've taken to violence, then I shall rid this world of your existance in as quick and painful a way as possible...'

Saint was quickly growing tired, he couldn't keep up with his tongue for much longer, he needed some food or he was going to collapse, of course he couldn't let Zero know that.

Saint: 'If you wish to face your own personal reaper, then I shall indulge you that one request. You and I, in a legal setting, inside the ring.'

[Guest]

You have yourself a deal.

Zero turned and exited the hotel. He would walk back to the GCW arena and find a way to relax himself after this frustrating time.

[/i][/center]

[Jacob Cruise]

Cruise just stands there all the while munching on his popcorn. Don't ask where he got the popcorn, just accept it. I mean, if you can believe that this dude was really some Hell's Angel, Christ compels you Saint type sent down from the Heavens above....Or, that this other man was a Robo-cop wannabe on crack....Then it shouldn't be to hard to fathom the idea of Cruise receiving a nice little bag of popcorn out of thin air...Extra butter FTW!

With Zero storming off, Cruise now finds himself there by himself...well basically. Saint's presence was still there, as he was standing slightly inside his room, but Cruise, not wanting to make eye contact with him due to fear of being turned into stone or some shit, stands a good five feet away from the man's door whispering to himself...

Man, this shits better than going to the movies...Cheaper too. I mean, this story has it all. Action, it was pretty exciting when Ironman there threw his fist through the wall. I wonder where they found a stunt man ugly enough to replace him for that scene?......And drama....Saint puts such emphasis into his....heh, blasphemy...that I could definitely see him winning at the Oscar's for best drama queen of the year.....and, romance....The sexual tension between the two was sooooo obvious....I can see a sequel already..They prepare to face off in the ring, if only they can survive facing off in the bedroom first....Good storyline idea.....Overall, I give it two thumbs up...

Finally deciding to speak his peace with Saint Douche....Cruise slowly approaches the door...

"Just one quick question....Were you this much of a loser in your.....heh....past lives? I mean, what are you,....like a fuggin cat or something? Nine lives to fuck up how you please? You just keep coming back or whats the deal? Tell ya what, I'll do us both a favor....You go lay down in the middle of the road...close your eyes....I'll hop in my truck...run over ya a time or two...and lets see if you come back from that....That way, I could end your obviously pathetic life.....And, at the same time...Save some other poor soul the pain of having to listen to another of your boring little rants....."

With that, Cruise takes off his Wizard's hat and throws it to the ground. Walking off nonchalantly, he was glad this was over....Kincaid owed him...big time....

Damn...I heard my old boss got put in the loony bin....but did they have to release this guy to make room for him? No wonder there are so many Atheist nowadays....