"Nothing but a Trace"

[Tregad]

[ Not taking place in the poke-verse, this is just for Trace. Cause I can.]

Moonlight spilled across the City with all the dark majesty of a fresh wound bleeding across all that allowed even the slightest reach toward attaining the goal to stain. One solitary goal to let the rest of existence know wrong had been done whether deserved or not. Such a city existed in this way under the moonlight, serving the purpose which let the world know corruption truly was breeding freely within this place. But civilization had long since found a way to try covering up the wound with electricity representing that artificial plastic surgery to cover such gouges into humanity. lluminating a vast expanse of concrete jungle farther than most eyes could see from the ground. What powered this impressive display was energy coming from hydro-electric powerplants arranged along nearby waterfalls & rivers.

From nearby mountains however, a Dark Figure watched.

Piercing the sky with a force to rival Longinus' cruelty, skyscrapers sprouted up in groups across various locales along the cityscape. Each one of them lit up to allow activity continuing far past the normal hours of daylight allotted by the sun. Alive with the bustling of life this city continued to function in spite of how greatly it offended some. Beings left forgotten through legend who managed to slip through centuries that blended in easier with each level of cruelty these people performed. Demons could camoflauge themselves in a society dulled to murder & rape along with the other crimes. No one liked them at all, but it did not prevent them in the least considering the blessing of free will was bestowed upon all humans.

Slithering through the towering buildings came a malevolent force that sapped away electricity from every floor. Attacking only three buildngs which were on the same property, it looked rather strange when the gaps inbetween them vanished in blackness. Power soon left the surronding structures but the buildings remained untouched unlike these three. Countless documents in progress were possibly lost from those on a late evening workload trailblaze. Hopefully they all had some type of auto save since it would be the last records of their entire lives. In those last moments a haunting face of death flashed through the eyes of countless victims as the last thing they ever saw. Not just the electricity, but the life-force of each worker vanished as well in a spark which helped to give life unto something much more powerful.

But definately nothing good.

Gangs could behave like modern perversions of the tribes man once travelled in so long ago. Congregations of the misguided & the malacious who felt that the regular life did not provide enough for them. Or something like that. . . each one had a different reason. Either way, it had currently led to a shootout going on in a street where a few corpses already laid out in the streets of the lower city. Fighting eachother over a mere block of turf, a territorial battle ignited while worse things moved through the sewers & alleyways. Slowly it infected the men one by one through the shadows until each one no longer remained completely human at heart or even in their soul. All of them stopped their assault on one another before dashing off toward where the Skyscrapers were attacked simultaneously.

Explosions sounded in the distance, allowing anyone that looked to witness a hydroelectric powerplant's destruction.

Now where the Skyscrapers once stood silently a lone monolith formed from their raw materials. Construction flowed seamlessly with the mallability of wet clay driven through an unseen force while the amalgamation took on the looks of a structure both industrail, magical, & even organic looming over the city villainously. Taking a definite shape with vivid detail, it no longer resembled just a large black & blank rectangle surging up from the ground. Dumbfounded on-lookers stared while the solid black mass started to grow cracks on one side as if to claim a gateway had been forged. Then it halted unexpectedly as though a switch in some random bathroom nearby had been flicked to untintentionally shut off the phenomena.

Only now did the shocked citizens turn to witness several dozen gang members running toward them. Running far too fast for them to even be real. Swarming along those still standing in the streets, people were abducted along the route toward a damned structure requiring more fuel. People with families or at least a lover found themselves inescapably carried toward the Monolith without mercy until the fate was met. From their very bodies, souls were sucked out not only from the humans but those who were kidnapping them as well. Not an iota of restraint or consideration given to the concept of discrimination. Lost souls now allowed cracks to form, from which a demonic light now poured to illuminate a city plunged into darkness.

Screams of agonizing despair filled the air.

[Tregad]

Meanwhile, a young man dealt with the soul-crushing agony of having his favorite anime interrupted. Tonight was a new episode too! In the dark on more than just what would happen next to his favorite characters this guy searched for a flashlight. Fumbling around in the pitch black of an apartment turned hazardous for many people but not him. Squinting for a few moments allowed him to adjust to the fact that moonlight came through the skylight of his rooftop accomadations. Three seconds later a black flashlight found itself clasped by a human hand. Only it never got turned on despite the original intentions that went into searching the powerless room for it.

Instead the Plasma Television decided to turn back on.

But not bearing the images of countless cleavages, instead a white noise image took their previously appointed place. Very strange, since that electronic 'snow' had been eliminated hundreds of years ago. Quickly the 'snow' turned into a 'snowface' with features pleasing to the eyes of any yaoi obssessed fangirl on the face of the planet. The entire room now danced with the TV's glow to reveal a young man standing there with a flashlight.

Standing at a decent height though certainly not a freakish one of 5'10, the youth weighed in at around 140lbs while sporting an athletic build. This was outlined through a white t-shirt, black jeans, one black glove, & some interesting socks. Black hair framed a face made pale by the light, though glare could do nothing to diminish the intensity of the cold stare in those crimson red eyes. On his face a look of horror gave way to one of a determined defiance. Around his neck hung a necklace of a silver cross & another of a dragon holding a green stone.

But did this TV image apply only to him? Or was it anyone with a still-functioning television? Broadcast across the city. . . these words were now heard:

"Space is such a cold, unforgiving blackness to be imprisoned within by you humans. Eventhough we come from a place even more harsh with damned flames. . . A HELLISH NIGHTMARE GIVEN TO US ETERNALL BY YOUR IMPOTENT GOD. Opening the way to our dimension on Mars only hastened the time at which we would harvest your SOULS. That time is NOW."

Realization struck harder than a brick to the groin.

"This can't be right. I destroyed that gateway on the Mars base myself . . ."

Cursing while moving into action, the young man moved quickly toward the closet of his apartment with the flashlight now turned on. In fact he moved just a touch faster than someone of his stature normally would. Then again such was to be expected of someone who wasn't even an Earthling. Searching the closet feverishly. he found the items that helped him survive by the skin of his teeth sixteen weeks ago. Clasping buckles together on a pair of ordinary looking military boots, he then moved on to putting on a stylish black leather biker jacket which had seen some better days.

Finally, came a strange looking Red Glove.

Once he put it on, any who doubted either advances id technology or the supernaural witnessed undeniable proof of an artifact linked to those sources. A relic of incredible power. It lent a strength of unknown bounds to the young man, who's normally dull crimson eyes now brimmed with a soft glow outlining his iris'. Despite how menacing this appeared one got the feeling any vestage of hope for the remaining citizcens would rest upon him. Prophecy ordained long ago would only make the situation seem cliche'd beyond belief. Thankfully no prophets held a hand in predicting such a catastrophic distaster. However not only those people in the ciity depended on him either, since the magnitude of that threat he'd just heard extended to all of mankind.

A mocking, distorted demonic voice came from the television:

"We've decided to let you have a little time to squirm before the end comes MOONLIGHT CHILD. . .we know you're here in the City. . ."


"That's funny, I don't remember leaving any Demons my address."

[Tregad]

Every windowpane of his skylight windows through which moonlight had shown were blown away along with most of the roof to his apartment moments after his snide remark to the television. How had they found him so quickly? Perhaps the Glove he put on acted as beacon to those of unholy origin. Drawing them toward him in relentless hordes whenever he wore it, a sort of curse on anyone who wanted to wield the power it granted. But why? What was it? God only knew for certain. It certainly didn't stop the fact his insurance would go up if the world survived past tonight.

Evil had no regard for proprty damage.

A flying Demon which resembled a giant Hornet waited for him outside of the window with wings that gave off a telltale buzzing sound. Each single movement of the wings sounded like the helpless cry of one human soul in torment. Given the speed with which they moved to keep th demon airborn, the cries were too countless for even the most devout of dedication to even pick up on. Not just a way to give away the creature's current position though either, it also just got plain annoying after a while. Claws for clinging to any surface along with attacking prey adorned each of the six legs. It also had a huge stinger that looked partially technological; kind of like a demonic harpoon gun of sorts which could be fired without fail into a target from the same distance as any high-powered rifle. To top it all off. . . the fangs in its mouth were actually stingers like those found on regular Hornets.

"Why can't you guys ever use the door?"

The Moonlight Child asked sardonically, since he probably would have ended up leaving through the roof anyway. Much quicker than taking the stairs. Especially since every elevator in the city was probably out of order right now from the power loss. But his words came back to haunt him as the door exploded from its frame in a single piece heading right for him with enough force to kill a normal human. Or at least land them in a hospital for a good few years.

Using the hand with the Red Glove this Crimson eyed youth split it in half vertically almost like the Saloon doors of the Old West. Each half went flying to damage the wall behind him on either side. Not a perfectly straight symmetrical split but then again not everyone could do EVERYTHING right ALL of the time. One of them struck a radio built into the wall, causing music to fill the night air with something other than screams. It was a song that might have suited the situation in one way or another, but it definately lent some stylish theatricality.

Bless me with your gift of light
Righteous cause on judgment night
Feel the sorrow the light has swallowed
Feel the freedom like no tomorrow

Stepping forth a cure for souls demise
Reap the tears of the victims cries
Yearning more to hear the suffer (of a)
Of a demon as I put it under

Now standing in the doorway were one or two of the definately possessed gang members with the silohuettes of a dozen or so more easily visible. He could see all of them just fine now that he wore the Glove which enchanced his physical abilities among other things. Just still being able to hear the Hell-Hornet's wings through the music would probably impress the average person. Strength definately appeared to be one of those along with speed as well, at least when using the specific hand to fight.

"Well now, I take it all back."

Men who were no longer men rushed through the doorway in a direct assault while the large insect seemed to merely watch in a passive though still threatening manner. Weaker than true demons, these minions still brandished human weapons like guns. Ones probably purchased on the black market, bought with drug money, or stolen from pawn shops among other things. But just as more than half a dozen guns were levelled at this dark-haired punk. . . something noteworthy happened:

He switched the flashlight from the hand with the black glove to the hand with the Red Glove.

"But you still forgot to knock."

[Tregad]

Simultaneously a wave of red & black energy swept across the flashlight quicker than a power surge, to change it in more ways than just a stylish new appearance. Pressing the button to turn it on, a strange beam of light came out with devastating effects. Four gangsters who came in direct contact with it were disintegrated on contact, their guns still moving with the momentum of their former owners running.

Killed before, a time to kill them all
Passed down the righteous law
Serve a justice that dwells in me
Lifeless corpse as far as the eye can see
The eye can see

Sliding across the floor to him in a fashion that almost made it seem like they were handed over . . . he gave each one a quick once over. One that even managed to tap against his boot turned out to be a blinged-out gold plated Desert Eagle with a lasersight. Meanwhile those who had remained in the hallway had been left temporarily blinded by just seeing whatever type of light it was the flashlight emitted.

Picking up the gun with his black gloved hand, it remained perfectly normal in a way that suggested the Glove's touch held some type of unique ability. But right now something was moving through the air at an inescapable speed. Turning the flashlight on the Hell-Hornet, the Moonlight Child only managed to cause minor burns to his foe while preventing damage to himself from a freshly fired Stinger- Harpoon.

Bless me with the
Leaf off of the tree
On it I see
The freedom reign

We are falling
The light is calling
Tears inside me
Calm me down

Firing his gun seven times at the Hell-Hornet did nothing to damage it all due to an especially Demonic Exoskeleton . . . his intention to incite a miss thwarted effortlessly. It had gone right into the flashlight with enough force at this close range to destroy the improvised weapon. Dropping it to the ground & aiming with what seemed no actual marksmanship, several bullets poured out from the gun.

One now held in the hand with the Red Glove.

Midnight calling
Mist of resolving
Crown me, with the
Pure green leaf

Praise to my father
Blessed by the water
Black night, dark sky
The devils cry


Instantaneously, it too transformed once in the grip of that mysterious glove to a stylish color scheme of red & black. The Hell-Hornet actually took damage now for a seemingly inexplicable reason. Perhaps the type of ammunition decided to become armor piercing. Bullets fired from it quickly went beyond the realistic number any single clip could hold which fit the gun. Obviously the Red Glove had bestowed upon the gun an ability to fire infinite rounds. It sent the creature reeling with the signature tortured buzz of its own hellish wings.

Leaping up through the broken skylight onto the rooftop, the Moonlight Child followed without hesitation. Just as the temporarily blinded but still possessed gangsters start to try re-entering the room. Only a few remained of those Street Dregs which let him make the temporary mistake of letting them live just a touch longer in case they could come in handy. Finally a sound his ears had been keeping track paid off in alerting him to an imminent attack.

Although to be fair, even a human would have heard the foreboding buzzing of wings.

Intending to impale him fatally with a mid-air strike, the Hellish Hornet zoomed through the air like a blurred buzz of blasphemy. Claws at the end of six different legs all grasped outward for him at the last moment in an attempt to seize him so that there would be no escape. Those last remnants of gangsters below also decided to join the rooftop rough-housing. Now there really was nowhere to go unless the surroundings suddenly decided to change. Well that could be fixed with a little gunfire & a few well placed explosions.

"DIE MOONLIGHT CHILD!"

Life of vengeance, a passive test
Until the grave I will rest
Engage the pressure until it crumbles
The existence of the lifeless black souls

Onward to the sacred battlefield
Where justification and limits are revealed
Tools of steel in rage they conquer
Weed out the killing of victims’ stalker


Shooting his major opponent in specific places, the bullets managed to halt reaching the intentional fatal destination. Now the train could finally switch tracks to put deadly momentum in a new direction.

"After you."

Grabbing the disoriented Hell-Hornet with his black gloved hand, the Crimson-eyed youth turned with that force to hurl his opponent down into the crowd of possessed gangsters. Due to his enhanced strength it sent the Hell-Hornet packing hard enough to squash both the possessed Gangsters & compromise the Demonic Exoskeleton completely from what the bullets had already done.

The powers proven to end the madness
Upon I take it to end the savage
The rays of light a truth of meaning
To my father the blood is pleading

A justice rage for all to feel
With innocent cries and hatred squeals
The gore of evil seems to satisfy
When slain an maimed and pacified

My chosen torture makes me stronger
In a life that craves the hunger
A Freedom and a quest for life
Until the end the judgment night

Watch the footsteps but never follow
If you want to live tomorrow
Steel a soul for a second chance
But you will never become a man


Landing on his feet in a crouched position, he then looked up at the mosh-pit of mushy guts. The Hell-Hornet shuddered while nearing death. One attempt was made to try having its dismembered stinger fire another shot but that failed. Mostly due to the fact so much strength left with the crushing blow dealt a few seconds ago. Spitting up bright neon green gore, it still managed to talk with hideous voice now even more demonically distorted due to the decisive dismemberment.

"dolphin you . . . Moonlight Child . . . The Hive shall avenge me. . . my brother Cobier will deliver the Sting of Death to you soon enough. . ."

"My name is Trace Archon."

*BANG*

[Tregad]

With that final gunshot the Hell-Hornet had been eliminated.

But there would be more of them for certain, since this one promised an entire Hive full of the monsters. Insect-based ones hunted specifically through pheramone scents left on specific locations or living prey. Which meant these Hell-Hornets would definately have it out for him after the smell of their dead brother reeked on his clothes. At least it would lure out the one who must have been their leader, imortant enough to actually get a name. Could this 'Cobier' be the one who was behind it all?

Trace had his doubts just one type of Demon would take the journey to Earth all the way from Mars. Others were probably just bidding their time or just stuck to specific locations How they arrived still remained a mystery to him even now though considering he had destroyed the only known Dimensional Hellgate a few months ago. Mysteries aside he had to find out their source to try putting an end to this while most of the City might still get salvaged.

Walking toward the roof's edge his enhanced Crimson eyes scanned across what he could see of the cityscape. Quite easy to pick out everything since all of the regular power was no longer operational. It worried him a bit to think they had gone directly for the utilities while apparently possessing people in unison. Then another question popped into his mind: Just how was his TV along with the Radio getting power then?

Last time I tried shutting down the power. . . a bunch of electrical & energy demons managed to keep the dimensional demon gate open until I beat them. If that's going on here then one of considerable strength is definately lurking around somewhere . . . acting as a veritable 'Ghost in the Machine'.

Of course this also came from the fact he saw a major source of light sticking out worse than Larry the Cable Guy at the BET music awards: the strange Monolith which still had sacrifices being made to it. Even twelve stories up screams reached his enhanced ears on the wind. Grief tortured his insides considering how many people were now just lost souls. Nothing could undo the horror unleashed tonight. Knowing where to start definately helped narrow down so many choices though A bright light stemming from a large unnatural structure definately fit the criteria!

Not wasting anymore time, he jumped from the rooftop fearlessly only to land on the concrete sidewalk hard enough to leave several distinct cracks going in various directions. Crimson eyes searched the area for usable vehicles until settling upon an average model of hover-cycle. Quite a stretch for him though since the thing was hot-pink & covered in purple glitter decals. In site of it he still rushed over to it without a moment's hesitation, placing the gun in a front storage compartment which originally played this role for a lady's purse. Once he'd let go of the gun it went entirely back to normal as both hands came into contact with the bike.

Revving up the throttle should have done absolutely nothing, but under the touch of his Red Glove the engine fired up automatically. Kicking up dust during ignition came just before it left the ground to hover consistently about eight feet off the ground due to the level of torque Trace chose to extert. His hydro-ion fuel gauge went all the way up to full in an instant. With each twist of the handlebar the Hover-cycle started to transform in unison to a stylish red & black vehicle that would have made 007 green with envy. Each passing moment brought a pleased smirk to his recently cold demeanor.

"That's my kind of ride!"

Taking off with accompanyment from the engine's unearthly roar, Archon headed straight for the Monolith.

[Tregad]

Meanwhile, on a Skyscraper near the Monolith . . .

A young woman with crimson hair & eyes to match Archon's stood silently looking at the moon. Blood red hair moved wonderfully to the pace of winds that often moved along that altitude, revealing a face of youthful beauty. Her pale complexion made only more alluring under the Moonlight, the white skin really did seem glow supernaturally. Wearing an elaborate uniform composed of black leather accntuated with silver decorations, the most provocative thing ended up being that she wore a black leather skirt.

Yet this all ended up betrayed by more than just one oddity to reveal the truth. Knowing any legends about ancient monsters made the pearl-white fangs which occasionally poked out from her lips told one that this young lady was in fact a Vampiress. Not only that took away her innocence either. Obviously above all else was the unique looking weapon in her left hand. It resembled a medium-sized ringblade with three seperate three foot blades serving as deadly modifications.

Gazing up at the lunar surface, she thought of someone in particular from her past. Her human past at that. A person who, like herself, had been born at the Moonbase established there only one generation before their birth. Both of them grew up having similar interests throughout childhood, their adolescent years leading to a mutual interest in eachother. Eventually they were even assigned to duties on Mars in the same location. It went without saying their relationship blossomed at the same time a technological breakthrough advanced into actual teleportation.

But that ended badly. . . getting seperated from the person she loved once he had been sent in to investigate suspicious anomalies. . .

I can swear there is someone somewhere, watching me. . .

Just then something strange happened in her veins, pulling the girl out of any nostalgia. It felt like her blood started to slowly go aflame until the point of near intoxcation. What was this? Nothing ever made her feel this way! Yet a glance into the distance across the city gave her some hint as to what exactly inspired such a sensation. Dozens of Hell-Hornets were quickly swarming together for an unknown reason into a formation heading directly toward the Monolith.

Then something caught her eye.

One solitary trail of fire moved in a line which matched exactly that of a road leading directly to the Monolith. It was approaching at a daredevil's pace, faster even than the Hell-Hornets. Her veins continued to feel the heat growing inside akin to passion. Earlier on she had heard their Commrade speak specifically to someone called 'The Moonlight Child'. Did that really mean it could happen? Was it possible that he could really be living in this City? Surely she had felt the Beacon-like pull of the relic when it was activated. . . but anyone who possessed it through battle could do such. It was possible someone could have killed that man since they last saw eachother. Yet that also meant it was possible . . .

"There's the streetwise Hercules, to fight against the rising odds . . . "

[Tregad]

Driving recklessly took on a whole new meaning while Archon blazed the trail toward the Monolith, hitting every Demon possible. Kind of like the vehicular homicide version of Whack-A-Mole. Quite a scorcher burned in his wake as the intensity of the heat from his Hover-cycle transformed the roads into Streets of Fire.

Mowing down minions actually started turning into a sport while he reached the quarter mark on his route. Hitting them one after the other while the flames spit out from the Hover-cycle took out anything else. One which ended up caught on fire ran screaming into a clothing store called Ambiguous & Manbitch. Which left it flaming even more than ever before.

Another great show followed when one of the minions he hit went flying into a fire-hydrant which then burst & sent high up into the air before getting impaled. On the sword of a scarf-wearing Knight belonging to one cheesy Burger restaurant which used the slogan that was no longer lit:

[glow=silver,2,300]What will ye have?[/glow]

Possessed gangsters were coming out in such force that it might make one wince inside at the though of so many living in just one city. But they were not the only ones around. . . Hell-Hornets had started to swarm together in the skies behind Trace. If he slowed down for too long they would catch up with him for certain. And that would slow hm down even further as far as stopping the Dimensional Demon-Gate ASAP.

Survivor's screams reached his enhanced ears with enough clarity now that he could pick out their relative location. Leaving any of them behind would never sit well in his stomach. For this reason alone he made a fiery U-turn which left an imposing scorchmark on the road. Eight people were under attack from group of six grotesque larvae the size of adult english mastives. Trapped inside the subway station partially in ruins, the creatures had come from the underground tunnels following the scent of fresh flesh to nourish them. It made sense considering some Hornets did create underground hives.

Archon didn't even leave his Hover-cycle, taking it down through the surface enterance which just barely allowed him enough room. Once inside he could only hover about six inches from the ground or else risk the chances of suffering a nice head injury. Not even with inhuman relics granting boundless power did anyone fel like getting their head rammed through steel surrounded by concerete.

Out of the entire group none of them looked like they were possessed. Yet. Ambushes at this point would just make the day worse. Luckily for him that didn't happen tonight. Mere feet kept the nightmarish creatures at bay, since counting the door would'v come off as a bad joke. Pheremones of a fallen adult Hell-Hornet stole their attention away from the helpless humans who had little or no way to defend themselves at all. Instead the larvae found the brutal pain of getting hit by several hundred pounds of steel at 40mph.

Fiery anguish of a burning death greeted the one larva who thought it had out-smarted the would-be-snack by attacking from behind. Yet another met failure after trying to drop down on top of him from the ceiling. Punching its revoltingly slime-covered skin sent it heading right into the wall with nauseatingly harsh squish. Trace would probably never bring himself to eat another baggie of Gushers so long as he lived after tonight.

A child's voice called out to him.

"Thank you so much sir! You really saved our lives! Just who are you anyway?"

Buzzing wings akin to a soul's anguished cry started to drown out all other sound. Several dozen of the Hell-Hornets indentical to the one he defeated earlier were swarming toward this subway station. Drawn not only by Pheromones that appealed to their insectoid instincts, but also the Beacon-like curse of the Red Glove which allowed him to get this far alive. If he remained down here with the still unseen survivors any longer the Red Glove which just bring them more danger.

"Stay hidden! Don't make another sound! And if you have an older sister keep her safe until I get BAAAAAACK!"

Even if he stayed the only one who knew his comment made while zooming off was half-joking & half-serious, it just couldn't be resisted. Trace felt no one in their whole long life should allow their maturity to spoil their immaturity. Revving up the Hover-cycle he quickly made a bee-line for the surface exit in an attempt to distract these pests from the only still-living humans he had encountered so far tonight. An attempt made just in time considering he managed to blindsight one on the way out, covering the Hover-cycle in even more pheremone-laced bug goo.

Bizzarely enough it also left him with a new weapon:

Stuck to the front of his Hover-cycle was the deadly stinger facing outward similar to a lance or cow-catcher. Vertical ascension never turned so messy before tonight. Flying at ramming speed into the moonlit skies, Archon impaled one or two of the Hell-Hornets before the sticky goo holding his improvised weapon fell off while still soaring even higher. Only a fifty-story building could compare to the altitude he now continued to try fighting an aerial battle at without trying to descend. At every angle the still dozens of Hell-Hornets remaining in the swarm continued to close in, while he still had no real weapon to defend himself with.

Or did he?

Time to activate the secret weapon. . .

Firing from what had originally been viewed as headlights, came an advanced heat-energy-ion based weapon strike. In short: TRACE WUZ A FIRIN' HIZ LAZAAR!!! With borderline maniacal laughter he started to slaughter the insect horde one by one. Precision aiming turned into a factor though, since one missed shot would possibly go down to the ground. Collateral damage of dead innocents did not fit into his current gameplan at all.

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

* DOUBLE ZAP, DOUBLE CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

"Who am I?! I'M THE GODDAMNED ORKIN MAN!"

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

Scents of slaughter would eventually waft down to the Hive which apparently existed below the city streets from what he had witnessed just a minute or two ago. Aside from killing to survive . . . he also had a method to this madness: Using the stench of several dead Hell-Hornets to lure out what he assumed was THEIR leader who went by the name Cobier.

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

[Tregad]

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

* DOUBLE ZAP, DOUBLE CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*

*ZAP, CRISPY!*


As one could guess, he quite enjoyed the gleeful slaughter of damned insectoids trying to keep up with a high powered energy weapon. One which thankfully had a short recharge time. But the glory of mercilessly exploiting an advantage over another's weakness DID actually have one Achille's heel of it's own: Forgetting one's own vulnerability. Showing suicidal strategic showmanship, the Hell-Hornets allowed a few of their bretheren to continue getting shot down in the super-heated flames of the plasma weapon. Fortunately for them it allowed one of the others to actually get the drop on Trace.

How?

Moving so fast at such a high altitude, windspeed created a fantastically distorting sound which did not aid anyone with specialized ears. Especially when they were already surounded by the Devil-School band section playing a damned version of 'Flight of the Bumblebee'. In this fashion a few of the Hell-Hornets managed to perform a co-op attack. Landing harshly down on the back just in front of the exhaust port, another then landed directly on the uncovered cockpit right in the Moonlight Child's face. Almost in a scripted fashion, it beared the stinger-fangs threateningly before lunging in toward the pilot for a lovely french kiss of death.

Damned french. . . . always the french.

"WHOA!!"

Disengaging the safety harness which bound his body into the Hover-cycle for all intensive purposes involving crazy manuevering through the air. No one in their right mind would Could it go without saying the smell of demonic insectoid breath felt rancid? Plants would wither under such a stench while the young man himself would have passed out if he were a normal human. Letting go of the handlebar with his Red Gloved hand, Trace gave a good solid push to an EJECT button. One reason fell to just plain escaping but another fell to sending his aerial attacker packing.

"Not on the first date! Not on ANY date! Cause you wouldn't GET ONE!"

But this also ended the cool-phase of his vehicle as it instantaneously reverted back to the original Barbie Bike form while one other Hell-Hornet still stayed on the back. Even the ejector seat returned to normal unfortunately which mant no parachute considering he had separated with it due to undoing the safety harness. In this state it could not withstand several things, worst of all being the amount of weight which currently ended up exerted. Spiraling out of control it went with inertia from his ejection's blast-off.

Now that the bane of all flying menaces no longer hunted them, the remaining Hell-Hornets converged without any remorse. Falling what appeared millions of miles away at this point, the handgun stored away in that Hover-bike went tumbling through the air toward Earth following the siren song of gravity. Yet a reprieve existed for Archon in the form of an unwitting ride. One unwitting creature found out the consequnces of inhabting a path of travel. Just pulling off the landing, or to be more accurate would call it an impact, Trace grabbed a hold of the Hell-Hornet fiercly with his Red Gloved hand.

Conquering body & soul took on a whole new meaning.

[Tregad]

Not since the horrific Mars incident did the need to control another creature arise that fit into his own moral code. But right now this fell into perpetuating his own survival beyond this place high above the city streets. For this reason a biological transformation took hold of the Hell-Hornet under his Red Glove's rather unique touch. Taking away the desire to attack him, the formerly yellow & black creature traded in one of the colors for a much more crimson shade coupled with compound eyes emitting a crimson glow. But then the dark-haired youth suddenly started reaching toward one of the wings on the Hell-Hornet's body until clenching it in his fist viciously.

Ugh, disgusting. But it's the only way to get a weapon.

Ripping the wing clean off of his currently stupified stooge, he then leaped with some effort away from it into the air. Quickly the spell of sorts expiered over the insect improvised into a spring board. Engraged from this the One-Winged Hornet made a harsh turn while laughably trying to fly straight at Trace just as the momentum of his jump faded away into falling. Meanwhile the wing changed hands to instantaneously transform through the influence of the mysteriously powerful Red Glove. Black & Red raced across it while the actual material itself transformed until a bladed weapon existed in his hand.

Bustersword size.

[Tregad]

Watching the pitiful Hell-Hornet trying to close in, a mocking grin came onto his face while he continued falling down toward it. The maw of stinger-fangs it intended to rip him apart with opened wide in a buzzing cry of rage. Suddenly it spun in the air to bring the Harpoon-esque Stinger into play & fired wthout any error right at Trace's midsection. In the blink of an eye he would get skewered upon the weapon, impaled without a chance of escape due to the venom residing inside the weapon. Swinging through the air left the sound of a single damned soul wailing in search of vengeance to greet the Stinger-Harpon in unison with the blade swarthed in red & black. Deflecting it successfully away from his body.

And right through the Exo-Skeleton of a nearby Hell-Hornet just about to attack him from the left.

"Geronimo!"

Boots came crashing down on top of the team-killing Demon only to push off once again into a jump that gained him distance from the ever aproaching ground. Pulled down by the connective organic material of a Harpoon-stinger, that unfortunate victim of team killing also went straight after his murderer until he also ended up a jumping platform for the murderer's accomplice to gain even more altitude. One came from the left while several others came at him from every other direction. Firing their stinger-harpoons all at once in anticipation of where momentum carried him left the Moonlight Child on a collision course with the clusterfuck from Hell.

"Did someone just change the diffiulty setting?"

Attacking the one closest to him turned into quite the party when a stinger-harpoon that barely managed to miss went into the head of a fellow Hell-Hornet. It caused the creature fly around spastically in deaththrows & take the other one with it in toward Trace. Grabbing onto one of the legs of the demonic insectoid in tow, he held on for dear life while slashing at anything that tried to get too close for comfort. This granted him another brief form of transport to escape death from the harpoon-stingers which now either cancelled eachother out or went flying into Hell-Hornets on the otherside. Some still lived while others had died depending on where they were hit on their bodies. . . which actually built itself into what resembled a large honeycomb or type of web while continuing to fall until splattering down upon several rooftops to litter them with even more fresh pheromones.

All of them were now dead or about to die.

"Guess not."

Cutting off the connecting tissue to the harpoon stinger, Trace then tossed the Wing Blade, causing it to return to the form of a normal brutally torn off demonic appendage. Why? The Hell-Hornet he currently sat upon had started to die from losing the stinger-harpoon. Placing his Red Gloved hand on it quickly, the creature managed to stay alive while calming down long enough for him to reach the top of a forty story office building about halfway from the large demonic gate still functioning in the city.

He walked from the demon corpse toward the edge of the roof to investigate the surroundings now that he no longer flew around in the sky at dizzying speed. A choice charged along the tracks of his thoughts about whether he should see to the end of the Hive which no doubt existed underneath the City or race on ahead toward the demonic gate again. What would he do? Did he really have time to stand here trying to figure it all out? Whoever controlled these creatures still had not shown himself at all despite the one nameless creature's threat.

A laugh escaped him.

How could a male lead anything resembling insects? Everything with that mentality from bees to ants always had a Queen who ruled over the colony in the deepest part of the Hive. Usually with a hideously huge hinder too. Archon knew that since had killed one of a similar nature on Mars more related to ants considering niether she nor her minions flew. So what was the deal here then? It bothered him despite the fact that he really didn't have to believe the words of a dying Demon. And for that reason he decided to just head down into the subway once more & put an end to at least one type of infestation. Luckily the power of these insectoid type Demons were often linked to their leader, after that leader was slain it left them incredibly weak & ripe for their
own well-deserved slaying.

But before heading down for the Hunt he decided to put on a sort of 'disguise' that would allow him to infiltrate deep within the Hive in a reasonable amount of time. Once more he touched the dead creature to cause another biological transformation to take hold of the Hell-Hornet under his Red Glove's rather unique touch. A rather disturbing thing happened next when Archon actually started to phase THROUGH, right into the demon's corpse glove first until he had vanished from sight completely. Yet again the formerly yellow & black creature traded in one of the colors for a much more crimson shade coupled with compound eyes emitting a crimson glow.

Great surprise might have filled someone upon seeing it stand up, but that only turned out to be just one of the changes. Once more a Stinger-Harpoon existed where the original got cut off. It looked, sounded, & even smelled just like one of the other Hell-Hornets battled only minutes ago in the air.

Flying down to a subway tunnel he continued below ground until finding an enterance to the Hive itself in one of the tunnels. Trace kept progressing further into the depths of enemy territory while wearing such a terrifying disguise. Every moment spent this way left him feeling utterly disgusted with how the sensation of his current state tried bombarding him with new instincts along with an overwhelming urge to protect the Hive from intruders. Well that second one ended up pretty easy for someone with his stubborness to ignore. However these left over instructions helped him in speedng up the search to find the supposed throne room which likely belonged in a cavern deep within the center.



Until he finally reached a cavern that seemed utterly untouched despite the location existing deep within the Hive. Just how many miles had he gone underground? Even though he had flown all the way here at top speed it felt like a long trip to navigate in spite of generally knowing which way to go in the Honey maze of caverns. Deciding to dump the disguise in the interests of having his Red Glove availble to improvise weapons, the Trace-Hornet suddenly exploded to reveal a bug gut-covered Archon. Now out of the disguise his senses went back to normal, revealing to him the rankest & foulest odious stench he ever imagined possible.


Which went without saying that he smelled like something that came out of a bird's behind.

"Who could stand to stay here? AND WHAT, WHAT IS THAT SMEEEELLLLLLLL!?"

The angry shriek echoed harshly off the walls, the loud sound dislodging a few smaller, more natural bugs in the area.

"Who's asking What?"

The fact that there was an ACTUAL REPLY to his angry yell made him whip around and nearly slip in a puddle of something nasty.

"What?!"

The unmistakable aroma of Honey had reached his nostrils now, coming from somewhere with the intensity of a man wearing a whole bottle of cologne at once. Obviouly something other than the bugs had crawled out of that Hive to come pester him with delays. But the fact remained that no noises actually occured up until now. Good lord the smell reeked of Honey though to an almost nauseating amount if it didn't balance out the place's natural scent so well. If that even remained in the ream of the possible. Although tonight just about anything seemed possble under these outlandish conditions.

Someone actually replied again.

"Who asked what first about the smell."

"Didn't I ask what first?"

"Yeah who asked what smells first."

"So what smells?"

"Oh now WHAT smells?"

"Something smells like. . . I don't know?! WHAT?!"

"He's wearing deoderant. So lets not go on that third question again."

"What? Did the first two get asked already?"

"Yep."

"Now it's confusing. Who asked what first? I don't know."

"Exactly. Who asked what first. So stop with the 'I don't know' routine."

"So now just who asked first?"

"Yeah, so then just Who did ask What first. And What asked who second. Stop acting like there's anymore I don't know. Ball's in your court."

"Wait, so who asks second?"

"Who asked first."

"THAT'S WHAT I'M ASKING!"

"And I'm telling you who asked first!"

"No I asked what first."

"And what asked who second."

"I don't know?"

"There's that third question again!"

"I'M NOT ASKING ABOUT THE THIRD QUESTION! I WANNA KNOW WHAT'S THE FIRST QUESTION CAUSE I CAN'T REMEMBER ANYMORE?!"

[Tregad]

There was a brief silence after Trace's yell, yet it felt as though the darkness smirked at him to anyone else there to witness this strange conversation. It lent an unsettling air to the cavernous Hive which had taken over the former subway tunnels. One that threatened to choke a regular human with the scent of honey & death. . . which explained the unsettling nature of it quite well. In the distance Arhon could pick up on the sounds of approaching wings that filled the air with their forboding funeral dirge beat. He might have felt utterly alone if a brand-new aura had not just exploded onto the scene. Mentally it stung at his psyche in a way that could only be described as a swarm of metaphorical hornets let loose into his thoughts.

Out of nowhere a blur of black & yellow charged at a speed beyond human capacity. Enough to out-do Trace in his mentally agonized state. The fist connected right into his kidneys with a magnitude which would have left anyone else broken. In fact. . . without the glove's power he likely would have succcumbed to a horrible fate right then. But the power reached deep within to his soul & to his ever so stubborn will to never just give up. For that reason alone he managed to stand after the blow sent him hurtling into solid wall with enough force to snap bone like twig.

Blurred vision left the entire world out of focus for seconds of prolonged disorientation that passed with an hour's speed. Finally it ended, while the recovery continued beyond the point of being a blacked-out sitting duck. At that point the blur stood still long enough in triumph to get identified by those rebellious red eyes.

Just a lone figure stood there before him.

Wearing an outfit much like his own, key differences existed between the two biker-esque combatants to warrant mention in detail. Yellow was the color of his shirt instead of white, almost like a tye-dye t-shirt made with honey mustard & gold. Black still remained the color of his leather jacket, but a collar of white fluff existed in additon to the regular collar. The jeans also stayed black for the most part. His boots were black with yellow laces. One glove was black, while the other yellow.

Did that mean he had a power like Trace's?

Still, the greatest distance between them definately came down to facial features. The attacker wouldn't look related to Trace at all, though that did not neccesarily make him an ugly deformity. His hair resembled a chocolate brown. . . but his eyes were the most interesting of all:

Violet eyes.

Like the flower which the color shared its name with, the hue of violet looked absolutely exquisite. It was as if someone had taken the petals of those flowers & compressed them into a crystaline form. Or if one wanted another comparison. . . they shared the same color & vitality of energon. Each iris glimmered with a violently vicious intensity that could bore into the very mind of an opponent. It certainly explained why Trace's mind felt swarmed with their relentlessly stinging aura.

"You must be the unstoppable Trace. Or are you? Looks like I've knocked you down cold with just one of my punches. That's a pity. . . "

His voice ran along smoothly, seductively, just like the texture of honey. But his calm expression changed when he blurred to move directly infront of the shadowy crater he'd made in the wall with Trace's body. Furious or Unfrgiving felt like the right kind of words.

"I thought with how many of my BRETHEREN YOU'VE MURDERED, YOU MIGHT BE A CHALLENGE!"

Shaking his head, the calm quickly returned to what was obviously an unstable person. Kindness or forgiveness had no place in his existance.

"But I was wrong, to get my hopes up."

Just then a renegade red blur came out of the crater to give an honest reply.


When it had ended, the scene wasn't quite what those on the side of good would hope to find. Crushed up against the cavern wall. . . Trace's opponent only went in a few inches. Even worse was the fact that the Moonlight Child had a black, metallic weapon which vaguely rsembled a lance. . . sticking out of his back. Blood covered it in a few places as would be expected of a weapon which had run Archon through.

"What the. . ."

"Oh this? I had that up my sleeve. But you should know the name of your killer. I'm Cobier. Lord of the Hell-Hornets."

Cobier smirked while twisting the weapon that still remained inside of the hive's intruder in a way to guarantee agony. Others now started to swarm about their location, waiting for a chance to tear into the Moonlight Child once Cobier was finished humiliating him.

"Stings, doesn't it? It has enough demonic venom within to kill a fully grown Hell-Knight. Let alone some dolphin human who parades around wearing one of OUR relics."

Great agony paralyzed Trace along with the effects of that Demonic venom not to mention the brutal punch which preceeded it. How could he escape from this? A wound through the GUT? The Red Glove wouldn't give him any healing abilities on its own without some augmentation.

"Finders. . .keepers."

He spat out in Cobier's face, literally getting some saliva mixed with blood in their violet eyes. It was a risky move to say the very least. During the few moments of disorientation his opponent felt, Trace pulled himself off the Stinger-Lance before sucking up his pain & focused half of his remaining energy into a single, unbelievable. . . unstoppable uppercut.

*ARCHON PAAWWWWWWWWWWNCH!!!!*

"STINGS! DON'T IT?!"

Cobier went flying up through the hive's roof, destroying one of the combs as he passed through it. A one way ticket to the surface, straight through a hundred feet or so of solid rock along with anything else that decided to be in the way. The broken honeycomb released a larvae along with gallons of honey down on the wounded Moonlight Child now holding his gut. But as the liquid poured down over him, the glove touched it, transforming the liquid into a powerful healing catalyst which repaired the wound to the point of only leaving a bruised scar.

I'll be glad when I'm done with these pests. . . I'll stop getting bathed in this nasty goo-stuff. . ."

Before the Hell-hornets could reach him, Trace leaped straight up through the hole he'd made with Cobier's body.

Destination: SURFACE!

[Tregad]

However, it was not a singular leap that brought him to the surface. Rather a series of five or so jumps from jagged edge to jagged edge inside a hole with one very inconsistant diameer. Open sewage pipes spewing out human filth became a huge pririty to avoid at all costs. Gtting covered in demonic hornet goo had been bad enough for one night out on the town. Judging by the strange aftermath, the Hornet Lord had been twisting around through his excessively forced ascent above ground. For this reason the Hellspawned Hornets had already flown to the opening and were starting to crawl up after him just as one would expect insects to do in pursuit of an intruder.

But during his ascent the surface went through a change in regards to the inhabitants. Hornets of normal size seemed to swarm from Cobier himself before descending down upon those already possessed by vague demonic spirits. Grotesque and grizzly changes took place when the hornets entered the body and forced it through a mallacious metamorphosis minus the censorship of a butterfly's coccoon. Soon their numbers amassed to a full dozen of these humans who were now hosting two unholy forces in their body. One might call these foresaken creatures 'Hive-minds' since their bodies were becoming a breeding ground for more of the normally sized Hornets to be born at an extremely accelerated rate. All of them seemed to converge at a point exactly twenty feet from the hole Cobier had made. Skin that had already started to decay now became malformed with tumor-esque protrusions which no doubt held a hundred hornets each inside. Underneath, what had once been human bone transmogrified into honeycomb shapes which started to break out from underneath the skin. Now they no longer even resembled former humans unless one could unluckily pick out a disfigured face which beheld a tortured expression of utter despair.


Archon emerged to find this morbid maternity ward waiting for him while he remained unarmed but still covered in the strange healing honey goo. Rolling away from the hole's enterance immediately after he surfaced left him just a few seconds before about twenty of the already seen Hell-Hornets came in hot pursuit into the skies before landing. For the moment they did not attack & only surrounded him on all sides more than a few feet outside the reach of arm's length. Perhaps they were awaiting new orders from their Lord. But would they be spoken or come through pheromones? Nearby the Moonlight Child would likely notice the nauseating sight of pulsating flesh almost ready to unleash a brand new pestilence.

"Angel of mercy. . ."

Odds only seemed to have stacked against the one man who stood a chance at saving the city. Someone who already held the weight on his shoulders of those who could not be saved. People who were taken before he could have ever reached them without teleportation. A gift that the Red Glove did not bestow upon it's user without the proper materials that could be manipulated toward such an ability. Yet all the problems of this city did not compare to what would happen if these Demons were allowed to spread across the face of the entire Earth. Just how big a burden did fate feel it needed to place upon a single person?

"My latest type of swarm will be born of those bodies. Instead of flesh they feed upon the victim's spirit as a larvae. I call them Soul Stingers since they're comprised of spectral energy that no physical attack can ever hope to damage. . ."

"You pack quite a punch there, Sailor Moon. Certainly knocked the wind out of me there, along with a few internal organs. . ."

Walking into view at last after his voice swarmed the air with a begrudged statement, the Herald of the Hornets looked under the weather. One could almost say admitting that a Human could hurt him so badly hurt worse than the blow itself. But then again. . . he likely blamed it upon the relic Archon wielded so effectvely against those who had originally created it as one more means to enslave mankind. Moving a hand aside from where Trace punched him revealed a gaping hole the size of a grapefruit in his gut. Yet he still walked the way one would if some small child had kicked them in the shin really hard. It also revealed that small hornets like the ones who had created the 'Hive-minded' were crawling in & out of the wound freely while building up a miniature hive structure like a cast or bandage for the wound. Honey-like goo seeped from the wound & made it unclear if that was his blood or a result of the hive trying to heal the wound. Once patched up entirely a wave of his hand changed the area of his body from insect architecture to normal looking flesh that matched the rest of his complexion.

". . .Not to mention you messed up a nice shirt."

Archon did not move in spite of the healing power the Red Glove had used to close up the vicious stinger wound. Doing that was only half the battle, while his body still continued to fight off a considerable amount of Venom. Jumping out of the hive likely came from an adrenaline boost augmented from his ever-handy demonic relic that had worn off after rolling onto the surface away from those intense fumes. Light-headed feelings probably overwhelmed him at the moment while the 'Hive-minded' grew ever closer to unleashing the new wave of Hornets. Hell-Hornets watched both points of interest with cruel compound eyes while they awaited orders. Killing him slowly was likely the plan, waiting for the little ones to emerge so that they could sting Trace to death. Every last sting would feel like a hot nail driven into his flesh no matter what the disorientation the Venom granted as it dissovled away at his actual cells.

"I could give a bumbling BEE about your wardrobe . . . . . I'm starting to think you really are a queenie in disguise. Worried about clothes that-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH HUMAN!"

Cobier had suddenly blurred out of sight during the Crimson-eyed man's words only to appear within close enough range to kick him. Kicking the guy who was on his back while dazed on a bad Venom trip straight out of the sulfurous pit until he rolled over onto his belly. Demons really knew no mercy at all for the most part. . . something Trace already knew after his deadly encounter with them on the MARS base. Laughter came from the Hell-Hornets while Cobier only smirked in satisfaction at the fate he felt confident in having sealed for this Human who had killed so many tonight and in the past. Now they would all be avenged whether this Sultan of the Swarms gave a shrimp about their reputations being restored or not. For this reason he decided to share an enlightening tidbit with the one he felt destined to die in mere moments.

"Y'know I just realized. . . you were about to die without knowing my REAL name. My Demon name that you humans call me in that roll of toilet paper you call a bible. I guess in a way you could say it's like the name you give those serial killers of yours. . ."

"Now you've done it Queenie, talking that way about the big guns upstairs. If you survive the next few hours. . . I'll make sure you get an old testament shoved so far up your thorax that-"

[Phil Ken Sebben: HA HA! Sodom AND Gomorrah! ]

Rejecting against the mere notion of someone evil defeating him, the raven-haired rebel rose up on his hands & knees just enough to be in a crouch. Inside the 'Hive-minds' the noise of stirring life heralded a disturbing ultimatum to the man with a cross around his neck. One just might think such a sign held enough weight behind it to the point that Archon finally clammed up for good. However, his words were actually cut off by a grunt of pain from within brought on by stubbornly moving to face this do or die situation. Every Demon had a weakness that could be exploited once found. . . all that remained right now was performing just that very task.

"Go ahead. Open that big mouth of yours up wide if you like. They'll only get to sting your gutless innards quicker."

"How about I open up a KEG of whoop-arse on you instead?"

Meanwhile the sounds of newborn hornet wings beat their funeral dirge rythmn into the air from within the 'Hive-minded'. Time still remained until the demonic swarm would leave their formerly human honeycombs to spread death instead of pollen. Just what would a Soul Stinger look like anyway? But as that noise of dread tried to instill fear it only helped to cover up a nasty surprise. During his brief school of hard kicks on the ground, an item Trace had forgot inhabited his leather jacket fell onto the pavement and now the Moonlight Child smirked as he recognized it.


"That keg is as EMPTY as your words Archon. Even with your relic it cannot suffice enough protection now. Feel the sting of my TRUE name. My name is BELZEBUTH!!!"


One hundred Soul Stingers swarmed out of the 'Hive-minds' and toward Archon without hesitation, revealing their unique visage. They appeeared to be made up of some necroplasmic substance resembling what appearance the stained glass from a Catholic Church might take on after being put through the corruption of the Hell. Abyssal black along with tooth cavty yellow described their coloration save for the eyes. Compound eyes now looked like stylishly shattered glass which gave off a malevolent glow capable of freezing the blood of a full grown man in his very veins. Stings from creatures such as these would likely result not only in death for a normal person, but the Venom was spiritual and poisioned their soul until it became a black enough one fit for damnation.

Still, all he had done so far was make empty threats. Now in his hand rested his lone rescuer during what for all the world appeared a rather stinging defeat at the hands of Cobier. Cobier who had revealed his true name as the biblical Demon called Belzebuth. . . one of the names often applied to the Devil himself. But in fact, this implied a specific Demon must have taken each name after earning such a title. An aura of utter evil pulsated from his form now as if to signify a great increase in his power level compared to just minutes ago. From what he had stated, saying one's true name removed some sort of barrier between themselves and their power.

How would the Moonlight Child defeat such numbers without suffering defeat himself?

"Bite me."

Flipping Legion the finger with his black-gloved hand, the Red Gloved hand was revealed to hold a cigarette lighter. Just as the Soul Stingers along with the Hell Hornets closed in his lighter leftover from bad habits flickered to life with emotion in those embers. Out from the lighter the flames spewed indefinitely as Trace waved it around his body similar to a palm-flamethrower while trying to incinerate the demonic insectoids. Soul Stingers dissolved mid-air into spiritual energy since apparently the flames were of some ethereal forge which could damage a Demon. Archon's Red Glove even absorbed the stray energy just in case to prvent any other demons from getting hold of a human soul. Hell Hornets were also roasted straight into crispy without even a ZAP portion holding up the death toll of the undead.

[Tregad]

With all the things his Relic could accomplish. . . lord only knew what would happen if Trace got his hands on a Delorean.

Flames seared the air itself, sucking up oxygen to fuel the fires fatally burning all of the Soul Stingers and Hell Hornets summoned by Belzebuth. All round him an inferno blazed, threatening to consume him like the very fires of hell itself. Risking death by his own red-gloved hand, Trace planned to even the odds between him and this foe who tried to overwhelm him. Yet it seemed this was the only way to destroy the hive completely. . . through incineration.

Just how could this battle be won through any other means?

Screams of at least a hundred demons filled the air mixed in with the sound of the fire which currently ate away at them. It sounded cruel to his ears as if the fire took pleasure in massacaring the demons which it had birthed in another dimension. Part of him considered stopping for a reason other than his own personal safety. Could the fire be metaphorically coming from within Trace himself and made real by the red glove?

What did it mean?

"GYYYYEAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

Now even the demon Belzebuth cried out. . . it was time to finish the fight.

"Feel like going back into the frying pan now, tough guy?"

Trace dropped the lighter to put an end to the unsettling fire which burned outside but still seemed to rage within. Small fires still burned around them all over the nest since the organic material was all too eager to ignite. More than anything he wanted to put an end to this supernatural version of 'Aliens' before the whole planet became a giant nest. Crimson eyes searched the room for his opponent among the charred remains of the fallen demonic insectoids only to find their Lord rising to his feet steadily.

"You will. . . pay for this."


Archon ignored the comment he had heard a bit too many times in his lifetime to even care about making up a retort for it on the spot. Instead he crouched down to pick up a burnt stinger with the Red-Gloved hand. This transformed it into a lance and spear combo deal. No smile came onto his face until the two rushed at eachother to meet with a metallic. . .

*CLING!!!*

Blows were traded back and forth between the two in a fight to the death. Belzebuth went for the Human's knees only to see an Elvis Preseley-esque dodge move followed by a similarly styled counter. Apparantly the Moonlight Child believed himself to be 'in the zone' to pull a set of moves like these right now. Holding his own weapon in one hand, he grabbed the Demon Lord's weapon to move it off to the side and pull him in closer. Now he followed with a seamless kick to the chest with his combat boot which planned to kick more bass than a boot in an bass factory.

That kick sent Belzebuth flying into a nearby wall which would have given a squishy cushion until recently when fire made it crunchy. Now it only cracked into debris and ash under the pressure. Archon moved in to close the distance only to find the one formerly known as Cobier ready to give a parrying thrust. It would have worked so well if Archon had not dropped his own weapon first and then grabbed his foe's stinger with the Red Glove.

Maniacal laughter came from the Demon Lord of Hornets as he watched it change under the relic's influence. Soon it might even spread up to his own body for an unknown result. But for the moment it only started to melt the stinger into liquid instead of turning into a new kind of weapon. trace punched him with his normal hand, then the other, then the other, until a vicious pummeling came to a close with the Demon Lord falling to the ground defeated once and for all.

"You are the weakest bee, goodbye."