Demon Hunter Groundhog Day Chapter 1

Hello my wonderful patrons! Witch / Egg is giving me some trouble. So I figured I'd see if working on something else would help get the juices flowing. So here's chapter one of the second place contender in my recent writing poll. I also have a couple of one-shot short stories in the chamber. But fear not, Witch / Egg is not getting dropped. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new stuff!

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Buildings have become way too tall, that’s what Riley will be thinking, standing in the elevator, the one that will smell like hell-cat piss and cigarettes cut with sage. Her dark, impenetrable eyes will reflect the dim light of the floor counter as it ticks ever upward. Some of the displays just won’t work, for example, the one hundred-forty-third floor won’t light up even a little. Neither will the one-hundred-sixty-seventh. There will be many other displays that dim, or flicker, or otherwise lack the proper maintenance to properly perform their function. And, since she will have little else to think about besides them and her impending doom -- or other, far more perturbing thoughts -- Riley will think about the displays over everything and anything else.

Roughly half way up, the speakers which softly crackle out off key, distorted recordings instead of actual music due, once again, to improper care, will give out. For that, Riley will be grateful, though it will leave her ears no company save the beating of her heart and rapidness of her breath. That and the consistent ping that reminds her of the ever-ongoing ascent. Why anyone would add such a feature to a building with over two hundred floors will be beyond Riley, but once again, she will gladly focus on them rather than the doom that awaits her at the top. Or the salvation, for that matter.

At long last, the elevator will come to a creaking halt, shuddering in such a way that will make Riley wonder -- and hope, that the cables might snap and send her to a sudden end. She would get another shot that way, afterall. It would postpone the finality of this particular moment. They won’t, however, instead the doors will slide open, squealing the entire way in the long forgotten language of neglected, outdated machinery. And Riley will step out, she’ll look very good, all form fitting leather and utility belts packed with all manner of nasty surprises for her quarry. Not to mention a lot of guns, and at least one sword, because she, like all demon hunters, and the prey they hunt, has a flair for the dramatic.

That very same flair is, of course, what will bring her prey to have chosen the rooftop of the tallest building in the district for their showdown in the first place. What could possibly be more dramatic, after all? Is among many questions Riley will ask herself. And she’ll know the answer, too. Some rain might help, a downpour, flashes of lighting. But rain rarely falls to the lower districts, and when it does it’s a light drizzle and acidic anyway, not the right sort. Regardless, that rooftop will be the best either of them can hope for. Though, were it her choice, it would be likely for Riley still to choose some other location. One that wouldn’t require an elevator ride. Being able to fly, her quarry would rarely think of such things.

The rooftop will be flat, and, in the middle will stand her quarry, patiently, if haughtily -- assuming one can stand around waiting for someone haughtily -- awaiting the woman who hunts her. The two will size one another up, there will be a great deal of slow circling and long looks, which Riley will find herself thinking seem as much akin to some non-physical foreplay as they are to preparation for a fight to the death. Once sufficiently pleased with their dance, the succubus will smile, baring shining white teeth and long, pointed fangs.

“Riley,” She will say, her voice a pleased purr, gently teasing each letter with gentle caresses from her long, dexterous tongue.

“Zarine.” Unlike her counterpart, Riley will remain externally stalwart, cool headed, so to speak. She will do so with great effort, and ensure she does so, because deep down, she will be feeling the aching desire planted by their night of shared passion. It will have grown within her for days, a weed un-oustable. And so, Riley will pray for her knees to remain still, for her voice to remain steady, for her core to remain tight and taught, not overcome with molten heat from her most intimate place. It will be a futile hope. And Zarine will see right through her mask.

Unlike with other prey, however, the succubus will not launch into a skilled dance of seductive flirtations, enticing motions and tantalizing ambrosias. She will have already played that game with the woman before her. Instead, Zarina will simply flash a smile that says all either need know: I see you. In the blink of an eye the fight will begin. Blade will meet blade with a resounding crack, and, in the distance, a raven will take flight, screaming into the night.

* * *

Riley was late, which, under normal circumstances would be fine. She was a huntress, not some marketing rep or anything of the sort who had actual regular punctual responsibilities to hold themselves to. Unfortunately, unlike most days she actually did have a meeting. An important one, too, apparently. Word on the street was some uppity demon from the lower districts had been causing trouble in the upper ones and that was important to the people who signed her paychecks. Which wasn’t to say she didn’t agree that a rogue demon was a problem, she just more frustrated that her bosses only seemed to care when one caused problems on their home turf. Not that she’d come to expect any less of them.

Regardless, from what she’d gathered by keeping her ear to the ground, a demoness had been making frequent trips to the upper districts, doing demon shit, then heading right back down, slipping by any and all checkpoints designed to keep that exact thing from happening. She’d also heard this one wasn’t to be fucked with, that she had killed a good deal of other hunters just like Riley -- well, not entirely just like her, since if they were just like her they wouldn’t be dead, but similar to her -- and that her bosses were looking for the very best to deal with the threat.

It seemed then, that the very best had been busy, since they’d called her. Which wasn’t to say she was some amatuer, much like the demoness, Riley, too, was not to be fucked with. She knew her way around all sorts of weapons, magical, mundane, mixes of both. She’d taken well to the magical gene-therapies all hunters were given, and come out stronger and faster than any normal human. Most importantly, though, she was loyal. Not because she wanted to be, but because she had to be. Trustworthiness was a hard asset to come by, and what better way to ensure that than to hold a person’s very body at knifepoint?

Gender transition was both a carrot and a stick, for Riley. So long as she did her job, she’d get more, her flow of hormones wouldn’t stop, she’d be bumped up to the top of waiting lists for the procedures she needed, and, when she finally earned the body she wanted, she’d get to keep it, so long as she fell in line. Magic could take it all away in a heartbeat, after all. Not that Riley needed the threat to do her job, she had no love for demons, still it did more than enough to motivate her to perform above and beyond her means. She just hoped being late wouldn’t cost her anyone’s good graces, not that they’d punish her severely for it, but it might make that threshold for getting what she needed just a little higher.

As the mag-rail came to a smooth, but rapid halt, a smooth, pleasant female voice calling the name of her stop, Riley disembarked into an opulent, open plaza, lit by artificial sunlight to make up for the cloud cover. Were she a tourist, Riley may have taken a moment to gawk at the extravagant, oversized structures that surrounded her. She may have taken in the way the Iranore building grew steadily less opaque as it stretched skyward, reflecting all manner of colors, or how the entire building which served as the headquarters of Rhyscorp was one gigantic optical illusion, seeming to spiral endlessly despite being one straight up and down building on the interior.

Instead, she kept her eyes forward and walked purposefully into the downright mundane little office which held her employers. This was not to say her employers were less important, quite the contrary, demon hunters were a key piece of the war effort. More precisely, for those exact reasons, discretion was more key to the people who signed her paychecks. And so, the building which housed them looked more like a coffee shop than a hunter’s guild, and it was enchanted in such a way that any who did not have business there would simply overlook it. Once through the glass double doors, an array of drones scanned every inch of Riley’s person, then allowed her to pass when they deemed her no threat.

She quickly made her way through three more checkpoints, each containing a smattering of bigger, and meaner, and more numerous armed guards, before reaching a set of thick, steel doors that parted for her without a moment’s pause. Inside was a conference room with a long, sturdy desk and a single chair, a holoprojector, and a briefcase. She sat without hesitation, slightly annoyed that she’d been stressing about tardiness when her meeting was apparently with a pre-recorded message. The moment she made contact with the seat, the holoprojector flickered to life, displaying the image of a succubus.

She was, for all intents and purposes, everything someone would expect when it came to how succubi looked. Curvacious, audacious, salacious, ferocious, and a few other words that end in ‘cious.’ Attractive was another word that would fit well, if a bit of an understatement, though it was tough to get a solid grasp on much more than that she had assets and a sexy face when she was being projected at about twelve inches tall, unless that was a lifesize replica. Something told Riley it wasn’t. The message began and, as was expected of her, she shut her inner monologue the hell up and listened.

“Huntress, reports have been received of a demoness, known as Zarine, making her way into the upper levels to cause chaos and destruction in the streets of upper T’eas Velvet, this cannot be left unanswered. Find the demoness and terminate her. She is known to frequent the lower pleasure districts, especially Byzantium. You will be rewarded immensely. Hopefully we need not say more. The briefcase before you contains a useful asset, utilize it wisely.” The transmission ended, and before the display had even finished vanishing, it sank into the table, a panel closing above it.

Curiously, she flipped open the panels on the briefcase, opening to reveal the present her employers had left her. The lid popped open of its own accord, revealing a smooth, black figurine in the shape of a raven, Riley grinned. She needn’t be told what she’d been given. Magic, albeit in a limited form. It wouldn’t do the job for her, but the fae spirit within would help her in any way it could, though likely only once. Hopefully that would be enough, she just needed to be certain she used to smartly. Many a hunter upon receiving such a gift assumed they had all they needed to crush their enemies, and thusly grew sloppy. That was how a hunter found quick death.

Without second thought, Riley gathered her belongings. She had not been given a time limit, but doubtless her employers wanted things dealt with quickly. At the very least this job would be over soon and she could collect her reward, that could only mean one thing. They were going to finalize her new body. No more hormones, no more reminders of the person she used to be, no more dysphoria. Just her. Riley paid a visit to the armory, collected her standard hunter’s loadout into a little duffle bag, and departed. She headed to the magrail, but knew right off the bat it wouldn’t take her as far as she needed it to, that would be much more of a hassle.

Descending as low as Byzantium was difficult from the upper-city. But she could get to the middle-city through the subway, which of course turned into a sky tram once in the middle-city. From there it was a matter of finding the right people to smuggle her in. She’d head down, find herself a room for a few nights in some seedy hotel, and keep her ear to the ground. She’d definitely need to lay-low, Byzantium was demon-central, and they didn’t take kindly to those who hunted their own kind, even if she only went after the ones who caused trouble in the upper districts. Not that she’d have a hard time finding a cover story, plenty of humans went to, or lived in Byzantium, and there were plenty of reasons to be seeking out a succubus. Especially as a tourist. That was the way things worked in T’eas Velvet ever since the world had gotten weird.

Back before everything changed, futurists, economists, fraud augers, and just about any and all other people who spent a great deal of their lives trying to predict forthcoming events had all failed to consider one possibility. Or, possibly two. First, that many of the creatures from old folklore and legends were real. Second, that they would take very well to late-stage capitalism. Some, more than others. For example, the fae, in particular, made ruthless businesspersons, they were, after all, purveyors of contracts and loopholes and tricking people into giving them what they want at the expense of their victims. It was an easy leap going from that to the extraction of the surplus value of someone’s labor.

When worlds collided in the late twenty-forties, it was only a matter of time before each and every twentieth-century science fiction writer’s worst fears about mega corporations dominating the planet became even more true than they already had. Magic and technology grew more and more integrated, and, as they did, those who controlled the means of magical production, did seize the means of physical production as well, only, not in the fun way. More in the consolidating power-grab way.

And, so, what was once called the San-Francisco-Silicon-Valley-Mega-Urban-Center, happened to be among the first to go, becoming T’eas Velvet. T’eas, after the Fae clan that ran it, and Velvet because it had had a nice ring to it. Needless to say, the city’s name was the only thing to improve under fae rule. When their grudges with demons -- who, to the shock of many at the time, also apparently existed and had come to earth -- came to a head, humans had to pick a side. Unsurprisingly, they picked the ones who spouted the virtues of free-market capitalism and weren’t depicted by human history's most dominant religions as the literal embodiment of evil. Whether or not demons truly were that, or whether humanity had actually chosen the correct side, was beyond Riley. What she did know, however, that the decision had already been made for her. So, as had already occurred so many other times in the past, on that particular night, Riley would join the hunt.