Chapter 3:

A Demon's Game of Pool

Smoke filled the air of the bar just outside the skirts of a sketchy city Nathanael had already forgotten the name to. Inside he sat at some ripped bar stool, a heavy rock metal pub filled with screaming speakers. Words raved about suffocating and death by a band called Korn someone had said when he asked. He rose a glass to lips, allowing the alcohol to burn. His overly sensitive tongue was forced to accept the bitter taste of a cheap beer.

Two men leaned over a blue felt pool table. Money laid across the table for bets to win. Nathanael had his eyes on the one wearing the plaid shirt, sleeves torn off and left somewhere in the streets for a beggar to find. He wore a self assured grin, his greedy mind working the schemes of a well crafted con artist while the poor tempered fool laughed as yet another stripe fell perfectly into one of the pockets. The sound of the ball rumbling back into its slot was picked up by his ears.

"Hey buddy," the bar tender asked in glossy red lips. Her hair was that of fried straw. She wore a seductive polish, grinning through poorly cared teeth and absently cleaning a glass with a chip much similar to the one in her front tooth.

He raised a productive brow, surprised the woman-not nearly reaching her thirties-had ground the courage to speak to him. Most people who had ever encountered Nathanael as he scoured the cities quickly forgot him as a fantasy. No one ever found the self esteem to speak to him, but instead admire him because he was eccentric.

He held heavenly stature with more perfection within his face than that of a Michelangelo. A pure radiance that if unleashed would blind the woman for her dully paid life—and that was not being conceited. This was an absolute fact.

"Yes?" His voice was sleek and low, the ring of bells in the background whenever he spoke. The loud crash of symbols deafened the heavenly trickles with hard fury.

"I haven't seen you around before. What's your name?"

"Nathanael," he spoke politely.

"Does anybody call you Nathan?"

"No," he laughed.

"Then I will, Nathan." She winked at him, cheap mascara scattering around her cheeks. She spotted him the minute he walked in, a tall chiseled frame with long sandy curls and award winning charm.

Nathanael decided to play the bar tender's game for the time, half his focus on the girl and the other on the game of pool. The tables were turning as the plaid man finally began to step up his game in the third round. More money piled on the table for the grab. As the game began the other player soon realized he was tricked.

The woman, whose name was brought up several times throughout the conversation, was quickly tossed to the farthest drawer in Nathanael's mind. The talk of seven digits was piled on top of the many lines she tried, simply to get Nathanael's company. Soon she'd realized Nathanael was not the kind who spent their nights in other people's apartment. She'd move on with bitter rejection and spit in his next drink for revenge. Revenge was Nathanael's most mastered propensity.

A loud string of curses erupted from the leather jacket slipping up his stick on the felt. The ball cracked against the wrong ball and sent his catching lead down the drain. More alcohol was passed between the players enough to cork the fooled man's intuition. It was amusing to see how unaware the men were about the amount of time it took for the beer to affect their motive abilities and then their intellectual aptitude as well.

If they were smart they would notice how the con artist showed no sign of intoxication. Nathanael was the only one who was watching it.

Midnight came calling into the bar, a bright waxing moon pouring through the dirty glass panes. It was swallowed by cheap stage lights and neon beer logos. Another song came convulsing into the room.

He flinched at the loud static of busted amplifiers. Any normal person would've lost a molar at the amount of pressure he applied in gritting his teeth. A crowd was beginning to gather towards the pool slab. The line of sight he had chosen by sitting at the bar was lost in a bundle of blond hair wearing a deep red corset and improper logo jeans.

The plan to move to for a better view quickly revolved to his motive functions. He was up and gliding to his next spot. For as tall as Nathanael was, he was quite inconspicuous in the bar. The greater attraction was that of the pool game.

The losing man stabbed the butt of his cigarette deep in an ashtray, the particles of remaining paper floating into lights above. Nathanael couldn't keep a slight grin off his face as he watched the end of the game.

The eight ball was the last to go, con artist was up. All he needed to was hit the white off the side and send it careening into the other for an easy win. Anyone in the room could see how high the stakes were. Over a hundred bucks were open for the winner. All he had to do was make the shot.

He gave his victim a quick wink and sunk the ball into the hole. There was a loud victory howl as the balls collided and the game was over.

"You son of a bitch!" The loser called. He chucked his stick straight at the man's face. The front smacked him along the head.

Nathanael shook his head in the back and watched the fight break out between the two. Soon the rest of the audience joined and the whole bar was filled with the noise of beers shattering and skin against skin.

Someone came at flying at Nathanael with ready fists. He pushed him aside and paid no heed as he crashed into a nearby table. There were more important things he needed to deal with. Like the plaid fabric escaping out the back of the bar, into the alley.

Nathanael sprinted out the back, not caring that he never paid for his drinks. The bar tender was busy trying to break up the fight by spraying people with beer dispensers and screaming.

The plaid shirt was just ahead of him as he stepped out into the nightlife. The back of his spiky head hidden in the dark, but to Nathanael he was far from invisible.

He caught up with him before he had a chance to leave the alley. His fingers curled around his shirt. The body of the little rat went flying into the brick wall deep in the back of the alley. Nobody would see them out on the street and Nathanael took it as the perfect opportunity to get his work done and go home for the night.

"What the hell?" The man roared as bills fell out of his pocket. He reached to pick them up when Nathanael's boot crunched down on him.

An inhumane shriek escaped out into the open. Nathanael pushed past the painful sound and gripped the man's neck.

"I'd be quiet if you had any desire to live." His voice was in the least threatening, it sounded more like a verdict of God himself. It sent the fear levels cascading up.

"You don't want to mess with me kid." He tried clawing at Nathanael's arm. It left bloody cuts that Nathanael couldn't feel. A minute or so later the wounds healed without a scar for a reminder.

"A birdy told me you've been naughty demon boy." Nathanael pressed the demons back against the wall. He waited for the information to spill.

"Who do you think you are?" His prey spat.

"I'm revenge." Nathanael stated honestly.

His pupils doubled in size and Nathanael wasn't in the mood to deal with another series of transformations. Demons were always so cocky when it came to fighting. This guy didn't have a chance against him. Nathanael knew that better than anyone.

"You're going to die now." He bared his elongating teeth and lunged for Nathanael's throat. He cast him aside like garbage, which is exactly where the demon landed.

He picked the apple cores and dirt filled napkins off his shirt and growled. Scales covered the visible skin of his arms and sneaked around his head like a snake. The demon was irritated with Nathanael's lazy grin. No normal human being could hold their ground against a demon, not even the strongest of man.

The demon realized this as his back hit the wall after his second lunge for Nathanael's body.

"Don't waste your energy snake demon." Nathanael yawned dramatically to lure the demon's rage further.

"You can do nothing to me servant of man." He yelled in insult, the demon's eyes glowed green like a reptile, his tongue slithering along his face.

Nathanael glowered at the insulting name and thrust his hands forward to call on his powers. He had lost his patience by sitting in a bar for two hours watching pool and then coming out only to be insulted by something far below his pay grade.

"You murdered those two children in Fresno three days ago."

"What children?" The demon inquired. "I've killed many children in my years little servant, you'll have to remind me."

Nathanael sneered. "Oh I have a good way of reminding demons about the people they've killed."

White whips manifested right in his hands. They extended along the ground with vibrant power that sparked when they moved. Nathanael snapped the whip around the demon's throat, the sound of frying meat and horrid smell shrouding the alley.

Nathanael was constantly checking for signs someone might be nearby and hear the torturing in progress but throughout the interrogation no one dared to pass by.

"Remember them now?" Nathanael asked over the demon's agony.

"Yes, yes I do!"

"Good, now you're going to tell me who sent you to kill them." He said

The demon couldn't escape while being held in pure white fire. Nothing that holds as much sin as demons could flee the bonds of such an untainted substance.

"No one!" The demon replied.

"Blasphemy," Nathanael retorted. He slashed the second whip across the demons cheek and let the black blood ooze through the wound. "Tell me who ordered you to kill them!"

"I hold no master," the demon said frankly. "I do not take orders from the assemblage, I am rogue."

Nathanael tore the whip against the demon over and over until the serpent-like creature was curled on the ground in his own blood. The acidy black liquid ate at the ground by Nathanael's boots. Some of it had splattered on his shoes, eating through the leather and down to his socks.

He scowled at the mess.

"Please," he pleaded to Nathanael. He looked at him through broken eyes. A savage, an untamed beast by evil's intended purpose.

"It's time for you to go back to hell." Nathanael released the whips, knowing the demon would never be able to run in such a severe condition.

It was scary to see how human they appeared. Take away the scaled skin, razor teeth and slit eyes and it would look to be a man. Nobody noticed that they were huddled around the demon playing pool. A game that by first glance, Nathanael knew no human could win.

He pushed the whips together and allowed them to merge into a long fiery blade. The fire burned around the edges and illuminated the sword to strike fear into a demon's heart, to say soul would be a lie.

Demon's had no souls.

The blade swept through the creatures body with ease and the blood dispersed once the holder was taken into the earth to be transported back to Hell. Nathanael let the sword disappear as well and wiped the sweat off his brow. The job was useless and he gained no information from it.

Nathanael turned around to walk out the alley and go back to the hotel in which he was staying. It was a shabby little Holiday Inn with a busted television and grimy toilet seat. He hated the small things that came along with being what he was.

"Oh Nathanael," a new figure appeared around the corner of the alley.

Nathanael stopped in his tracks to check the person for threats. He could smell the scent that he himself had honed, earthy and sweet. The jacketed figured stepped closer to avoid being caught on the sidewalk.

He was not being threatened and so Nathanael relaxed.

"Why do you have to be so cruel to those creatures?" The man clucked his tongue like a disappointed instructor.

"I'm doing my job, who cares about my technique?" Nathanael retorted, balling his fists at the evaluation. "What are you doing here in such a trashy little neighborhood? I figured you'd be cooped up inside a nice silk bed by this hour."

"I've come to ask you for help."

"Why?" Nathanael's eyes sharpened. "I'm not given assignments by you."

"Because," the figure folded his hands behind his back and kicked aside a rolling newspaper. "There is a very serious threat becoming in a town nearby that I've been given orders to deal with."

Nathanael lips curled in taunting. "So Mr. Big Shot can't do his job and needs someone below his stature to help him? Oh how amusing."

"Deplete you're sarcasm Nathanael. Do no forget you're placement. I am your superior, and you will assist me." The man's voice hardened before warming back. "I'm fully capable of doing this alone but I figured you would like a break from midnight slaughters in abandoned alleys."

"So do it by yourself." Nathanael moved to pass the man without further notice but his gloved hand reached out to stop him.

"Nathanael this is important." He said.

"I don't take orders from Azrael's apprentice."

"Please," the man said.

Nathanael gave a long pause, staring at the man with topaz eyes. He thought about it for a moment. What could someone as powerful as him want help from Nathanael, one of lower class?

"Fine," he agreed in a grumble. "Where do I need to go?"

"Merced," Arael said quietly. "I need you to go as soon as possible."

Nathanael mapped out a quick route down to the little town instantly and nodded. "I'll be there by tomorrow."

"Thank you." Arael turned to take leave into the darkness but Nathanael caught him.

"Hey," he turned around. Nathanael's eyes lit with humor. "Where's that old fedora you love so much?"

Arael gave an adoring smile. "It's with someone I plan to see again." He disappeared on cue, leaving Nathanael staring at the night sky in confusion.

"Merced?" He cast a glance at the streets and went home. "What could possible be there?"

Ok so please tell me what you think of the story so far. I would like to know if I should continue on with the story, I have the plot ready so more will come out if it's reading material. Please let me know with your Reviews or PM me! Thanks again guys!

"Stop Waiting, Start Doing, and Let Yourself GO!" - Anna Clare