Driving north, Hunter gripped the wheel tightly, his jaw clenched as the cracked highway stretched ahead of them.

“After the chosen started awakening,” he said, eyes fixed on the road, “angel-demon skirmishes started popping up everywhere. East coast. Midwest. Even rural towns. Some cities were completely wiped out. The demons destroy everything… then vanish.”
He shook his head, voice dripping with disgust.
“Nasty fuckers. Murder. Torture. Rape. Anyone that won’t join them.”

“How will I know it’s a demon. Everyone so far has looked human?” Mike asked

With a quick interjection Bahamut growled “Feathers.”

“You’ll know a demon when you see it. Demon’s takeover their chosen and when they convert someone seeking power they dominate them completely. Allowing the demon to manifest physically. Horns, teeth and claws.” Hunter replied with a scowl on his face.

“No trace of the host, just nasty fucking demons.” Sighing he continued. “I was unlucky enough to see it first hand a couple weeks ago. Doesn’t happen right away. Once the demon takes control the host basically dies and they start growing horns. Skin changes color, claws.. nasty transformation.”

“Thanks for the info and all your help.” Mike said nodding at Hunter.

Mike stared out the window, saying nothing more. He watched burned-out rest stops and hollowed towns flicker past like ghosts. Others were still untouched—lit windows, cars in motion, life pretending to be normal.
“Why are some places still… intact?” Mike asked, narrowing his eyes as they passed through a small town untouched by the war.

“No idea,” Hunter muttered. “Some spots are protected by chosen or angelic forces. Some… the demons just skip. It’s not random, but hell if I know the pattern.”

They drove in silence for hours—Mike watching, waiting. Preparing.
As they neared the edge of D.C., flashes lit the skyline in the distance. Flares of gold and crimson between buildings. Screams echoed faintly on the wind.

“Well,” Hunter said, pulling off the main road, “they weren’t lying about the fighting.”
He parked the truck behind a collapsed overpass and handed Mike a phone. “Call when you’re ready to head back. I’m in your contacts.”

Mike took the phone with a brief nod, then stepped into the night.

Screams tore through the silence.
Mike ran.
Rounding a corner, he spotted the chaos—an alley bathed in firelight. Three horned demons shredded a woman on the pavement, blood soaking the concrete. She no longer screamed.

Between them stood a woman with long white hair, drenched in gore, golden light burning off her skin in pulses. Her eyes blazed.
“Vile demons!” she roared. “I will strike you down!”
She charged—flaming sword drawn, her body moving with divine speed.

The demons grinned, blood dripping from jagged teeth. One—a tall, emaciated figure with skin like black silk—licked his lips and laughed.
“Oh, Yomiel, how I love it when you play the righteous type. So much better when we get to break you.”
Mike watched as the two front-line demons lunged and were sliced apart—clean, brutal.
“Tch,” the tall demon muttered. “Useless converts.”
Then, mocking: “Oh no! Whatever shall I do against such a valiant angel?”
He darted forward—dodging her every strike with serpentine ease. A swift kick landed in her chest, shattering bone. She crashed into a brick wall and slumped, coughing blood.
Before the demon could strike again, Mike stepped forward, placing himself between the angel and the demon.

The demon tilted his head, amused.
“Well well… what’s this? A beast? What business does a loathsome creature like you have here?”

Mike didn’t blink. “I need answers from her. Then she’s yours.”

“Polite,” the demon purred, seating himself atop a demon corpse. Legs crossed, hands laced beneath his chin. “Very well. Ask away, beast.”

“Don’t trust the bat,” Bahamut growled in Mike’s mind.
Mike ignored the voice.
He crouched, grabbed the wounded angel by her shirt, and lifted her up.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, staring into her fading gold-tinged eyes.

“You’re the monster that killed Barachiel’s chosen,” she spat, blood streaking her chin.

“Where is my wife?” Mike growled.

“Oooh, kidnapped wife!” the demon laughed, clapping his hands. “So dramatic! So cliché!”

“I will not tell you,” the angel said through gritted teeth.

“Uh oh,” the demon grinned. “Now you have to hurt her. Break something. Make her scream. Come on—this is the fun part.”

Mike’s jaw tightened. His eyes glowed with draconic light. “Where is she?”
“I cannot tell you,” the angel repeated. “Kill me.”

The demon sighed and propped his head up with one hand. “This is boring. Cut off a finger. Remove organs. Do something,beast.”

Mike exhaled slowly—then dropped the angel without a word and turned toward the demon.
“Enough,” he growled.

The demon blinked, surprised. Then smiled again.
“You’re not fun anymore,” he said flatly. “But I look forward to next time.”
And with a wisp of black smoke, he vanished.

Mike looked down at the bloodied angel, then dragged her by the collar as he walked into the heart of the burning district.
She didn’t resist. Head slumped, breath ragged.
“Why do you not kill me?” she whispered.
Mike’s voice was dead and cold. “You still have answers I need. Until then, you’re bait.”
He didn’t look back continuing down the road.

The shadows moved in—three twisted figures creeping toward the ruined street, their jagged horns catching the flicker of firelight. Snarls echoed between the buildings.

Mike dropped the silver-haired angel onto the asphalt like dead weight. She hit the ground with a grunt, too broken to rise.
His burning eyes locked onto the oncoming demons.
The first one didn’t even have time to react.
Mike surged forward—faster than before, more beast than man. He grabbed the demon’s face with one hand and slammed it into the nearest brick wall.
CRACK.
Black blood and fragments of bone exploded across the wall like paint. The body went limp.
Pain suddenly ripped across Mike’s side—claws had torn into his ribs. He turned, glowing eyes blazing, and drove his forehead into the attacking demon’s skull.
The impact detonated bone.
The creature’s head burst like a melon, its body crumpling mid-step.

A low, guttural growl rumbled from Mike’s throat—eyes glowing bright red in the dark, casting long shadows on the cracked pavement.
Another sharp sting tore into his back—jagged teeth biting down near his shoulder blade.
Mike let it happen.
Then he turned slowly, reached back, and seized the demon by the horn.
He yanked the creature off with ease, dragging it forward as it hissed and thrashed.
Mike opened his jaws and bit down—tearing into the soft flesh of its throat.
The demon shrieked, gurgled—and went silent as Mike ripped its head clean off.
He let the severed head drop with a wet thud.
The body hit the ground right after, twitching once before going still.
Black blood soaked the pavement.
Mike stood there, chest heaving, drenched in gore. Flames from a nearby wreck lit the streets, dancing off the slick coating of blood across his arms and face.
He turned and walked back toward the angel, who lay half-conscious, her golden glow dimming.
His draconian eyes burned through the dark.

A look of sheer terror covered the woman's face as he approached.