Stories I Never Finished

Hell Priest

Note From Author: it was a shame to give up on this story so soon, but I honestly don't have the capacity to write much anymore </3

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The sway of a red glossy lollipop danced its white stick across the grazed knuckles of a young man, black boots thudding against the marble flooring with each step taken.

Marble towered over all who stood beneath it, echoing its hollow sound against intricate detail carved into the hefty stone; ancient paintings flaked from the walls, long since was the day they had been diligently painted upon—a history lost to its own meaning by those who sought to taint the spoken word.
The books were no longer trust worthy, and the king was at the end of his final straw; clutching a blade within his palm in the hopes his skin would cut and bleed once more.

The marble fell silent, the young man lifting his lolly to his mouth while his other arm held the weight of a brutal weaponised beast of a gun against his shoulder. Brown eyes gazed upon the King, waiting for the beautiful guardian of all who speak in Hellish tongue to turn and address his beckoned arrival.

Blue eyes like glowing orbs of incoherent power lifted toward the slayer, red robes intricately sewn by blacks and golds of secret foliage patterns no mortal had seen flowed as the King turned with two gentle clacks of heeled boots against the marble floor.

For a moment in stilled time, the world of the damned slowed like the glowing rays of reddened sunlight peering through open gaps in the marble's sturdy song.

"You are not the killer I asked for." The King of Hell let his eyes gaze upon the young brunet male whose skin glistened with a mix of sweat and dashed of blood.

"Well I'm the slayer you got." Calum chomped his teeth down against his lolly, crushing it into shards as he flicked the handle carelessly to the ground.

A brief glance was given to the fallen piece of trash, blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly with a look of distaste as they returned to the slayer who had answered his call.

In ripped black shorts and a matching tucked in tank top, his studded utility belt seemed to stand out against the black thigh-high socks held by buckles to his tanned skin. Calum was a feisty, freefalling type of killer; a man who relied on his weapons and used his flexibility to his greatest advantage.

He wasn't the killer Luke beckoned, but he was the killer who answered and survived the path to his castle.

"You made it this far..." Luke gauged the man's ability as best he could from surface level. "Do you think you have the ability to go further?"

"Depends how far you're askin'." Calum planted his free hand on his hip, his other hand swaying the hefty gun to thump down by his foot and lay rest like a walking cane beneath his hand. "What's the Big Bang here?"

"Beyond the hills," Luke gestured a delicate hand toward the gaping space between towering marble, beckoning Calum's gaze toward the vast open view of endless hellscape, "the castle of the Heavens has been lain siege."

"By your people..." Calum peered out toward the hills laden with rotting madness of death and chaos.

"Kill them." Luke lowered his hand. "Take the pendants from the necks of the Four Horsemen, cut their heads from their shoulders, and return the castle to its godly rule."

"So we're just gettin' right into it then?" Calum snorted. "Not even a reward? Just go do it?"

"Your reward is your life." The King hissed, aggressive.