The one who got away by Dmitri
The one who got awayDisclaimer: the characters are mine, unless noted otherwise.
Conscience was returning slowly, rather like a netted corpse of a drowned person, which was slowly drawn out through the murky waters of a boggy pond. I was Abdullah Mustafi. I was... shot?
The numbness was next... to go, replaced by a feeling of itchy pins and needles under skin, metaphorically speaking, since Abdullah had personal experience of the real thing, to a certain extent. I was shot, but that is so no longer. I am cold however, frightfully so. What has happened to me?
The senses returned next, revealing two figures, humanoid, but with distinct, albeit small, hornlets on their heads. “Devils,” the still prone ex-corpse muttered emotionlessly. “I am dead.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been brought back to life to fight that Cambodian character,” the taller of the two replied cheerfully. “You win and you behave politely, you’ll get to remain alive.”
“What?” The eyes of the ex-corpse opened wide and yellowish-green lights glowed in it – lights reminiscent of the fifth circle of Hell. “You want me, Abdullah Mustafi, to fight for your amusement?”
“No kidding, genius,” the shorter one scoffed. “Or do you want to go back to the ministrations of Rosette, eh? So be a good fellow, take this combat knife, and-”
The devil didn’t finish. From somewhere in the distance came the snarls of a great cat, and a battle-cry: “Nora! Take your damn dog and attack the diabolical runt!”
The two devils stiffened and exchanged looks: “The Slayers?! How did they learn?”
They forgot all about their interlocutor, and that proved to be a fatal mistake: the ex-corpse grabbed the combat knife in question, stabbed them both several times and fled into the darkness, to figure out where he was, if not in Hell, and how he fit into it.To be continued?