What would you do if you could do anything? If you could go anywhere? If you could buy everything? If you could make what you could not buy? It was a question that showed more about the person than most questions. In a world with no needs and only wants, everyone would naturally gravitate to what would make them happy.
They would make worlds, perhaps just to destroy them. They would reveal in their power. They would make wonderful works of art? perhaps again, just to destroy them for the cathartic release.
When you realize that this was the world Dillon lived in, a lot about what the man did made more sense. The man, at the end of it all and living in post-scarcity did what he wanted to do. He killed.
Also, he did weird things.
As for the moment, as he was lounging in a tub filled with milk. And also cereal, for some reason? it looked like the choice was fruity pebbles. Eyes covered with a pair of cucumber slices. A puke green face mask coating his face, which did not really do well with a full beard, but the man made it work. The man did not have a worry in the world. Which, should say more about his morality than his relaxation regime. Music blared out through the pair of buds stuck in his ear, to which he of course sang along with. Loudly, and badly.
?...Call the policeeee. Call a coroner. Call a young priest, have him warn ya? Won?t be no peace, when I find that boyyyyy?.? Rumbling out in a growl of pure enjoyment. The moment was broken though, from a pleasant chirp of an alarm from his phone resting on the edge of his tub. Eyebrow raised from behind the cucumber slice, which soon fell so he could take a sideways look at his phone. Hmm. It had been calculated by a thousand artifical intelligences and a trillion points of data, this was the best time to strike.
Dill took his time to ease up from his lean, with an annoyed sound in his throat. Catching one of the cucumber slices before it fell into the milk, so he could casaully pop it into his mouth and chew it down. Without any shame he rose, milk (and cereal) pouring off his form. Stepping out of the tub and to the red sand that surrounded him. Flesh and ground hissed when they met. Not from the heat, but from interaction of something mortal meeting something that was not such. For good reason.
Dillon was in Hell.
In every direction was the insane chaos of the place. Spoke of by mad men awoken from a fever dreams, or poets that had taken too many hallucinogenic substances. Perhaps incomprehensible to mortals unless they were as crazy as the land itself. Dillon took it all in as he stretched arms above his head, in a comfortable roll of motion, quite naked. His spot was a jutting butte of rock, much higher than the surrounding lands. But in the distance, something could be made out. Something that had been built. Or perhaps grown. It was this he finally stared at for a while, before he decided to go through with everything. Three steps, into a sprint, and he leapt right off the side of the rise.
?Naked Hell base jumping! Coined it!? Was his war cry as he met what could be called air, here. And for a moment, it looked like the man was just falling to his death. Then, the Armor came. From his skin, from his every pore. It erupted from flesh and immediately overcame it. What was once liquid solidified in moments, leaving the man wearing it. Armor. The end of protection. Like high tech plate mail, it was what cavemen knew would one day come when they first wore the skins of those they killed. The last bit grown was the man?s helmet, that snapped down a gold visor over the whole of his face and filled his view with data and information.
Thrusters on the back of the man opened up and fired up, burning short white flames that turned falling into flying and turned the drop into a horizontal dash of pure speed. Dill felt the adrenaline spike just as his seratonin did. Pure speed filling his body, and thus, filling his mind with pleasure.
He had one advantage over what he normally did. An artificial intelligence that was attached to him. It calmly looked through everything around the man as he shot through the air. Soon enough, it drew a small red dot on the man?s vision. Then another, and another. Soon, hundreds were filling his screen. Targets. A thought from the man zoomed in to his target. Stone parapets, a mockery of a human castle but on a scale that could not be done in the mortal realm and mortal physics. Dill picked his entrance and his Armor reacted. Thrusters grew, the Armor itself reforging and reforming itself to better serve the man?s desire to go faster. Speed ticked up until the man would have to break the sound barrier, if the air around him was mortal air.
A demon was on the parapet. Wearing, somehow even with its inhuman face, the bored look of gaurds from all realities. It did not know it had been picked by the Human coming at them as the first. When it looked out into the Hellish wastes and saw something that drew its concern and curiosity, it was over. The turn of speed Dillon had meant that it was only a moment until the man was shooting past it. With a metalic blur, the man struck as he moved past. And the Demons curiosity turned to shock, as it fell to the ground in two almost perfect halves.
As Dill snapped past the walls, thrusters shut off and he turned his body to bring his boots down on an unfortunate demon standing in the courtyard. The effect of momentum had Armored man and demon meeting with a sound that was pure destruction and sent the demon, even being a measure or two larger than the man, into the fall stone wall and through it. Dill was left to gently land on his feet, a pure contrast to the speed he just held,
For a long couple of moments, everything was still, but not silent. Movement was happening, all around the man. A smart soldier would use this time to strike, to use the chaos and the stillness to get a few easy kills in.
Dillon, did not.
Armored arms splayed out in the air, showing his challenge to all. Through his mic, a long run of demonic speech poured out in ways no mortal tongue could move. An insult. And one that seemed to work, as the stillness was broken with a thousand inhuman roars and the sudden rush of oddly colored flesh towards the black Armored man who stood there, calmly. Then, the game was over. With another thought, he created a weapon in his hand. The revolver, that was always on his thigh. It looked like a joke compared to what was speeding at him from all sides, but when it was leveled and the trigger pulled? it ceased to be such.
Each shot was a kill. Each round hit demon flesh in the worst spots. In their eyes, in their open roaring mouths. Leaving holes that did not heal and demons who died in pure confusion. These were cats coming up to a mouse and suddenly learning the mouse had figured out metalurgy and chemistry. A shot would pierce the eye of one, hit the stone wall behind it, and bounce into the back of the head of another. A shot would hit a demon in the throat and send it falling, to trip up the multitudes behind it? to make for easy targets. And the man never made the motions to reload. Just moved, aimed, fired. Even as one demon came from behind in a breakneck sprint to hit him where the man wasn?t looking, the weapon just aimed their way and put a hole where an eye had been.
But when against that much meat, there was no way to survive with firepower alone. And while it was much longer than it should of been, eventually the first monster got close enough to Dillon. At twelve feet tall, it had to bend down to swipe a claw with nails the size of swords at the armored form of the man. Dill would never be able to match their strength, or their speed, or their ferocity? but they would never manage to match his slippery guile. He was already in motion when the strike came, using his small size to his advantage and ducking under it as another metallic blur seperated the monsters leg at the knee to leave it falling in agony. Which Dill ended with a shot from his pistol to it?s forehead without looking.
The blur stayed in his hand as a four foot long sharpened length of metal. A thin sword that did not look like it could stand up to the fight before it, but when the man leapt at the next charging demon and pierced the tip of it straight through the creatures neck, it did not even hesitate on the demon flesh. An Armored hand held on to the pommel of the blade, riding the beast as it fell backward. Taking him above the throng of demons that already surrounded him. They tore into the dead monster crouched on the top of in their frenzy to get to him. This time was used to fire his pistol down into the horde. Each shot a kill, but it was like throwing matches into an ocean. Just as the man hit the rise of the beast and began to fall, it almost looked like Dill was about to fall into the mess. But then shoulder pandulons snapped back to reveal a honeycomb rack of tubes. They ignited and sent the small missiles out and into the horde, just feet away.
It looked like he was about to off himself and everything around him, but when the missiles hit they explode in pure white light. Artificial holy energy. It hit the horde like a rock hitting glass. Where suddenly there was the horror of mass motion, it was wiped clean with a white light that filled the courtyard and turned flesh into nothingness. And standing in the middle of it, unharmed when it all cleared, was nothing but the armored form of Dillon and ash. In a moment he was sprinting, becoming a blur of motion in a step to take him towards the ?lucky? demons who had not been caught in the blast.
Now the man was a wolf among sheep. Confused, angry, blinded sheep. While the blast had sent his kill tally to the heavens, the time after almost matched it in intensity. Each swipe of his sword or shot of his pistol cut nightmares in half. Sending them to a true death, one they would not come back from. A gift from mortality to those who called themselves immortal. Now Dillon was in full form, every inch of movement was calculated to bring him closer to a kill. Every swipe hit the worst places. Each motion drove him further and further into bloodlust. Soon, the courtyard was silent except for the sound of red dust spilling over forms that were disintegrating. There wasn?t a place the man could move without stepping into a pool of black ichor, so he walked through the gore without much concern to where it came from.
Pace finally stopped, centering on a pair of large doors that was supposed to stop him from proceeding further. There were many red dots behind it, but they were not rushing out to face him. Good, these were the smart ones. Or at least, being led by a smart one. The shoulders of his armor rose up again, showing the empty honeycombs? that filled up, missiles blinking into position from no where. Only to be sent off once again, twelve from each side, to smash into the doors and what was beyond them in sharp white explosions.
Even destruction was no place to hide from him, as with the attack right behind it came the speeding form of Dillon. Thrusters on his back shooting him forward even as monsters melted under the assault. Again, those that ran were gunned down and those that flinched away where cut in ways that would not heal. It was then that Dillon felt it. The Fear. From creatures that had no ability to feel it. It was like an unspoken cry that went out in the air. -Dillon was here-. The change was immediate, even as the artificial holy energy died down. Where there had been once brutality and anger, there was trepidation. And Dillon worked that.
No demons charged him. After he sliced through the last one that was near, he just calmly walked forward followed by the low whine of charging energy. Even a few mishappen, cloven hooved feet stepped backwards rather than forwards. A flick of his sword of his air had the black ichor that clung to it flying through the air, leaving gleaming metal there. Dillon?s visor looked up to the one set of eyes that had the gull to look at him with an air of rage. A much smaller, thinner demon than the rest. But it was between Dillon and that demon that all the nightmares stood. Too afraid of him to go forward, and too afraid of it, to run away.
Blade snapped around and the tip of it pointed at the smaller demon, a blatant challenge and promise. From the demon?s agile, moving fingers, impossible designs and shapes were created out of nothingness. And what erupted in the space between them was black fire. Snapping down to where Dillon was, but the man was already in quick motions of defense. It hit demons rather than the man, but the demon sorceror did not seem to care. It panned the balefire to the side, trying to outspeed the man. But it was to no avail, as Dillon had rounded the lines of demons and was soon lost in the press of flesh that he was cutting through. Once slice through the leg of a demon brought it down, just so Dillon could jump up and land on it?s face. Going immediately to a crouch just so he could leap up even higher, and right over the flamethrower of balefire sweeping over the air. It lifted up to meet him, but it was too late. With a snap of energy from his thrusters, the man was turning and falling like a boulder. The demon sorceror only had a moment to halt the attack and bring up it?s defenses. The air glimmered and solidified just a second before Dillon slammed into it. But neither demon nor man moved. Except for the tip of Dillon?s blade, that was slowly, slowly forcing it?s way through the very shield the man was standing on top of. Man and demon locked eyes again, and he relished the sight on the other?s face when it realized it was all over. Then suddenly, the bubble popped and Dillon fell onto the sorcerer blade first. Imbeding it straight through the demon?s throat. With a twist of his wrist, it?s head left it?s shoulders and anti-climatically, it was only Dillon standing there in the silence.
The horde of demons still around him, did not make a move to attack. In fact, a few of the smarter ones were already routing. Running away from the scene, in pure terror. The ones that did not, were left to watch as the man slowly turned around to look at them, as if noticing them for the first time. With the helmet, it was impossible to see, but they could -feel- the man?s grin. Then, he attacked. And nothing lived in his passing.
Silence again, as the Armored form of the man walked up towards the last doors to stop him. Adorned with skulls and other terrifying motifs, but the man in armor was seemingly not impressed. Another barrage of missiles from his armor shattered it and sent debris into the overly large room beyond. The man did not move into the hole he created though, he just stood there until he saw the red dot in the darkness the size of the room provided, move out into his line of sight.
The demon was in mortal form, an insult. And what had been a rather enjoyable time, turned a bit personal to Dillon. Blade slipped back into the thin black pommel with an odd hiss. Revolver in his hand disappeared. And even his mask broke apart and mechanically folded back piece by piece in insane engineering, to reveal his face as he stepped inside slowly. As if entering a friend?s home.
?Dillon Jones.? The demon in the flesh of a man spoke out, with a slow smirk coming over his face as he watched the man enter. Knowing who it was, immediately. ?I always thought you were a myth.?
?I am.? Dillon responded back, casually as he could manage. But there was a roll of a growl behind his words. There was no doubt this meeting would end with one of them dying. ?Guess you were myth-taken.? The corner of his lips curled up at the pun, the man was a sadist, even right now. It even made the demon groan.
?Damn?? A breathless little hiss from Abaddon, as he suddenly wiped the false casual charm from his face and glared at the man. But, it ended when his hiss turned to steam in the air. From the chill of it. And like that, he felt it. Cold, for the first time he was? cold. He even shivered as he took a confused step back from Dillon, who was pacing forward.
Each step Dillon took, ice spread out from where the armored boot landed. The man did not even notice it, but the demon sure did. Like the man bringing fear to beings who did not know fear, he brought cold to Abaddon who had no idea what cold was. But the demon hated this new sensation. Not understanding, it was Dillon pulling Abaddon down to his level.
?Well, you?re going to hate this then? Ahem.? A pause, from the man in armor, so he could carefully say? ?...Looks like you are, Abaddone.? With a chuff of a laugh over towards the demon. Mask suddenly snapping back into place, as Dill knew what was next.
With a roar of rage, the demon?s form exploded. The flesh of a man turning into gory debris as the demon?s true form came out. The small splattering of fake blood was soon over taken by the rapidly expanding form of the demon. Legs like spiders grew out, slamming into the ground with enough weight to shake the entire structure.
Dillon was not done idle though. In a thought the revolver was back in his grip and lifted. Round after round fired even as the monster shifted into what it was most comfortable with. Chunks were taken out even as they were just created. One last shift, grew two arms that were pretty much just scythes attached to the body. Abaddon now dwarfed the man by dozens of feet. Dill was already in motion, sprinting as the revolver spit out shot after shot. And when the demon turned and swiped with an arm, Dillon was diving behind one of the columns that lined the room just as the stone was smashed aside like it wasn?t even there.
The man came up in a roll after the attack and kept moving, circling the monster as it did it?s best to keep him in front. At the moment, each shot from the pistol seemed to annoy the demon more than hurt it, but that was Dillon objective. Seeing the man sprint out from behind cover, Abaddon brought both of his hands down roughly to the ground in an attempt to crush him. They missed, but the demon used the holds of the scythes imbedded into the ground to yank it?s impressive bulk quickly over towards the running man. Columns were crushed and even the wall caved in from his form smashing into it.
There was never an end to Dillons movements though, he ran constantly. Over or under debris that flew around him. It was pure chance that caught him though, as the ceiling began to fell. A step to the side and a leap to move away from a chunk of stone many times his size slamming into the ground had Dill caught by a sweep of spider like legs from Abbadon, who howled in delight as the blow connected and the Armored man was sent spiraling chaotically in the air and straight through a stone column on the other side of the room.
When Dillon landed, alarms blared through his helmet and mind. Red areas on the outline of armor in his heads up display mirrored the pain he felt spiking up from them. Broken bones, shattered organs, split and ripped flesh. A disadvantage in mark 2 armor, as it was still flesh and bone underneath it all, unlike the mark 3s. Still, the man scrambled to his feet. Fighting back the pain and the blackness that edged into the fringes of his vision, threatening to black him out. Medical protocols kicked in and began to heal him, immediately. Bio-chemicals released into his brain to block pain and heighten his instincts. Revolver was lifted with a hand that was shattered under armor, bones mending quickly, but not fast enough. Despite it all, Dillon pulled the trigger again and again? but once where rounds landed, they now halted in the air, feet away from Abaddon?s form. The demon laughed and roared in victory.
?Did you think those tiny mortal weapons could kill me Dillon?!? The roar from Abaddon was beyond loud, it matched the sounds his form made as it clattered over the floor towards the man.
There was no response from Dillon, just the calm being forced over his rage. It was only a half second, and the man aimed radically to the side. A single pull of the trigger sent a round off to no where. But the round hit a falling bit of debris and ricochetted off. Just to hit another piece of falling stone, and bounce off yet again. The round tumbled through the air, now, aimed perfectly to Abaddon?s left eye.
And it almost made it too. It even caught the gigantic form of the demon by surprise. It leaned back radically just as the round stopped from it?s own defenses, inches away from his eye. It began to laugh, once again, until it saw Dillon. Aiming the revolver right at him. Another pull of the trigger, another round fired. Just now, it shot up and impacted the round hanging in mid air. Snapping it right into the demon?s eye.
With a pained roar, Abaddon leaned back and stumbled. Black ichor flowed from the hole, as if Dillon had just popped a balloon. The screams died off, as the large bulk of Abaddon settled on his back, legs twitching grotesquely in the air. Then, silence once again. For a few seconds, before the steady beat of Dillon?s pace was heard, rounding the demon, to come to where it?s enormous head rested.
With one good eye, Abaddon weakly looked over to Dillon as he walked up. Even his head was enough to dwarf the Human, but now, no, it did not matter. There was one long moment of quiet between man and demon, before Dillon hummed out through the mic on his armor in that strange, emotionless, mechanical tone that was still so obviously him.
?...Who did that to yoooooooou?? Sing songed out, to finally finish the song he began a while ago. Revolver lifted once more, just as Abaddon tried to croak out something. But it did not stop Dillon from pulling the trigger, point blank, again and again to the fallen demon?s face. And he did not stop until nothing was moving.