Another Misadventure of Mr Whitefire

[Cpt. koeda]

The Full moon shined malevolently through the thick grey clouds. The waves crashed rhythmically along the spotted beach. A man in a white pinstriped coat lay on the beach passed out from a nights drinking and this is where our story begins.  For this man was no ordinary drunk but a monster slayer who roamed behind the veil that was hidden from the mortals, an endless battle between heaven, hell and the monsters of the middle realm.  

“Warning the person calling you is a C***. If you answer the phone you will be talking to a C*** and nothing but a C***.” The Sam Sung flip phone warned.

The man stirred grumpily and rolled onto his back. Sand littered his grey vest and trousers. He reached into his coat, pulled out his cell phone flicked it open it. He looked at the caller name for a moment and pressed the accept call button.

“Yello, god speaking.” He slurred into the receiver.

“Good evening sir. I’m Seras Bluemoon chief of the paranormal division, and I believe we have some business to discuss.”

“The girls missing isn’t she?”

“How do you know that?” The Officer questioned with a slight hint of panic. “That’s classified information.”

“Well dipstick. I know you’ve gone through her belongings because you’ve called this number.” He explained as if talking to a child. “And that means she’s either dead or missing.”

“Meet me at the White Wing dinner in two hours. It’s a neutral zone.” And with that she hung up.

“Well fuck you too” He yelled to himself.

A few moments passed and the world stopped spinning he pushed himself of the ground and stood up. What the hell did I do while I was drunk? He thought to himself. He put in a phone number and called Price Bohorn- A close friend of his.

“What do you want at this bloody hour Blaze?” Price growled

“Got a meeting with the head of the paranormal division.”

“I’m listening”

“Pretty sure she’s an angel and I want you there backing me up in case things go tits up.”

“A meeting with the peelers hey. Where’s the meeting?”

“The White Wing diner.”

“Gotcha, I’ll be in the building across the street, upper floors with a semi auto. Cheerio.”

“Catch ya later.”

The phone beeped signalling price had hung up. Blaze looked down at his bare feet. “What bastard stole my shoes?!”


Blaze sat in the uncomfortably clean diner. The waitresses and waiters were dressed sharply. Normally Alistair would have avoided a posh place like this as if it was the black plague however he was without a choice. A bell twinkled at the door and a tall blonde woman walked in with her nose in the air. A burly looking gorilla and what Blaze presumed to be a boxer followed her in three piece suits and a hand cannon strapped their hips. Her coat was black with two rows of white buttons done up to her neck, her shoes were polished until they shined and she wore trousers instead of a business skirt.

Blaze sighed deeply. Another pompous twatt he thought.  He could sense that she was an angel and one of her gorillas was a half breed demon, the boxer however smelt human so he presumed he was a new recruit or a regenerator. Regenerators where genetically altered humans that had been created in the last two decades, recently they had become more common for hunting monsters however half breed demons and angels were still the most common demon hunters.
Seras and the two guards sat down in front him.

“Target six one six.” She stated coldly “Why is your phone number in Elizabeth’s locker?”

“We were associates.” Blaze smiled. “I told her to leave it there in case of this situation.”

He knew that both of the guards had their hand cannons aimed at him underneath the table. Blaze smiled cheekily at them both.

“Now boys I’d put those toys away if I were you.” He paused patiently and watched them chuckle between themselves.

“Why’s that?” The gorilla laughed.

“Well.” Blaze paused again and then pointed at the roof of a five story building across the street. “At the top of that building
is a sniper with his crosshairs on your boss.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Seras hissed. “This is an angel controlled area.”

At this Blaze started laughing and a knowing twinkle appeared in his crimson eyes.

“There are about two dozen demons in here doing business right now; each and every one of them is just dying for a chance to kill you right now. You’ve got nothing.”

She glared at him for a moment before looking around the room sceptically. A few moments passed and she seemed confident until the customers sitting in the table behind of her let its snake like tongue escape to sniff the air.

“Excuse me.” A waitress interrupted and put down a mug of coffee. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Seras was about to talk when the Waitresses eyes Flickered black for less than a second.

“No we’ll be fine Daphne” Blaze intervened. And she walked off.  Seeing that his point was proven Blaze had a sip of coffee.

“Down to business then? What’s going on?”

“Elizabeth – as you called her – has gone missing in the Trascur realm. She was there attempting to establish a allegiance for us when we lost contact. A week passed before it was confirmed she was missing.”

Blaze knew of the Trascur realm. It was created by a fallen angel a few hundred years ago and since then had flourished as a safe haven for angels and demons alike. The only condition was you had to swear allegiance with its king – which could mean getting yourself killed over grudge or being involved in yet another inquisition. A delicate balance was held in the middle realm between the four great forces. The Humans, The Mythical. The Demons and The Angels, The Fallen however did not belong to any of these four categories unless they chose to join a force or realm.  Some of the fallen had generated enough spiritual energy that they could create their own pocket dimension or realm as they were referred to.

“What do you think the motive is?”

“Well she was considered to be the winning candidate for the up and coming Holy Crowning. That’s all we can think of, it seems to us that someone on the inside would have had to do it but we don’t know anyone with the drive to.”

“So that old coot god’s finally kicking the bucket hey.” He mused.
The gorilla stood up instantly with his Hand cannon drawn and aimed directly at Blazes forehead.

Blaze laughed. He knew the comment about the latest god dying would make the half breed stir. Every five thousand years the drain from keeping the realms from colliding and causing an apocalypse would take its toll on the current god and kill him, when this happened there was two months before the walls between realms started falling apart. Normally within a week of voting amongst the highest ranked arc angels a new god would be decided upon.

Blaze tutted him and made the move men of him placing the fire arm to his temple. Against his own will and his attempts to stop himself the fire arm was aimed at his temple.

“Now that wasn’t very nice was it?” He laughed as he made the motion of pulling the hammer down on the hand cannon. Against his will he could see the gorilla panicking because he had lost control over his own body, even the ability to speak.

“Mr Whitefire. STOP!” Seras commanded.

Blaze looked at her sadistically. “So you want me to walk through the Vasda forest which is filled with withes then waltz into a vampire elder’s castle. Strut through a fallen angel’s realm to find this girl, presumably rescue her from whatever threats keeping her there and most likely have to kill the king of that realm? What do I get out of this deal?”

Seras looked at him shocked at the coolness of his voice as he spoke about an almost suicidal mission as if it was a holiday.

“Essentially yes. You’ll get fifty thousand dollars in hells current currency, whatever arms you need, a complete pardon from all previous actions and a police helicopter.”

“Throw in a box of Kit Kats and we have a deal.”

Seras sighed in relief “Thank you.” She held out her hand and he reluctantly shook it.

He skulled the coffee which he had left idle and stood up. Every patron in the room was looking at the gorilla with impatient ecstasy.  Blaze made him aim at his own foot instead. Boom! Blood splattered across the immaculate white tiles and the half breed yelled out in agony as most of his toes were blown off. Every person in the diner chuckled at the man’s suffering.
Fifty thousand dollars convert that to human currency and that’s a quarter of a million dollars. He thought cheerfully.