The Paranormal Research Society, emboldened by their previous successes in summoning and binding demons for research purposes, tries their most ambitious summoning to date - Alcor the Dreambender. Warnings for suggestions of violence.

The candles were in place – unscented, as even the most basic of research said Subject 24601, known by the name 'Alcor', the Dream Bender, the Twin Star and a host of other titles all listed, tidy and neat, in his file, couldn't stand the scented ones and would at times simply leave the circle as soon as 'he' smelled them.

The summoning circle had been gone over three times by three different teams to ensure all the marks were correct, as had the binding circle – the strongest binding circle of enslavement that had ever been created, said to have even held Izolelp the Ever-Hungry, Devourer of Nations, at the height of 'his' power.

The electric generator was humming, poles it was connected to sparking and ready. The crystals and iron were placed precisely along key points of the circle, cameras placed to record every angle, the cold iron and binding rune engraved restraints and holding cell ready.

Now all they needed was the demon.

Years of research and capturing lessor demons for the government all lead up to this moment. There could be no foul ups, not now.

The candles flared, smoke billowing inside the circle. Blue flames swirled and rose, Alcor the Dream Weaver emerging from within the depths.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, when the circle he was in appeared to register.

His eyes widened and the agent in charge hit the switch, activating the sprinklers. Holy water poured out of them, showering down over the room and its occupants.

Alcor shrieked, the sound piercing though all their ears and making a few faint as he tried to shield himself from the water, gold sparks flashing and sizzling with each drop that hit the demon.

The sprinklers shut off and the generator kicked to life, moves synchronized on lessor, easier to confine demons. Alcor screamed again as the posts sent electricity through the circle, hitting him with enough electricity to kill a human and driving the demon to his knees.

The electricity stopped, the room silent save for the occasional drip of the sprinklers and Alcor's harsh breathing.

The chains were thrown, enchanted to seek out the demon, manacles closing on thin wrists and the collar round the demon's neck, the other ends snapped into the staples driven into the star's points to bind him.

Alcor raised his hands, staring at his chained wrists in shock as the agents relaxed, beginning to celebrate. He hissed softly but they ignored him, used by now to the demons they captured angrily ranting or screaming once they'd been captured. Between the holy water, electricity, binding circles, and engraved manacles, they could rave all they wanted, but they weren't getting free.

Alcor hissed again and the lights flickered in response. The agents stopped celebrating, running to check the binding circles for weakness, readying the sprinklers and generator for another hit.

The lights shorted out as one, going out in a dramatic flare of sparks that showered over the agents. In the darkness Alcor's eyes glowed in solid gold, gold lines of brickwork tracing over the void–dark form of his body, darker than the pitch black of the room, lit only by the gold of his eyes and lines and the faint lines of the binding circle.

"H̴̗̣͍̳͕̪̫̤̽̇̽̓̆͌̊̋̀͞ͅo̫̺͍̯ͧͮͩ͞w̨̳̟͈̗̮͂̾̐ͤ͛ͣ̿́ ̟̝̖ͨ̐̀d̳͓̯̪͈̮̤̋̐ͩ͂͐͒ͪͥͅȁ̧̳̝̗̳͉̙͋̃͊̇́́ͅr̟͓̅̾ͪ͌͒̾́ë͏̦̟̦̦͈ ̡̰͗ͪ̀͢y̢̡̜͖̺͚͊͂̂o͎͇͕̼̭͍̣̘͙̍̽͞u̢͖̹̼̬ͥ̓͛?̑̈̋͂̾ͪ҉̨͙̯͙̹̩̩ " he demanded. "H̛̘̼̘̟̤̤͓ͮ͋̏ͯͧ̆͗͞͝O̬̜̬̙ͩ̾͗͊ͅͅW̗̜̲̬ͮ̑̈́ͨ͊ͮ͗̅͝ͅ ̴̢̼̙̪̟̋̈̃ͫ̆̔͟D̡̲͔̉̉͊ͫ̃̓͋A̷͖̗̩͙ͤṚ̨̧̳͚̥̹̦́̾̚Ȩ͔͕̜̤͑ͥͭ̔ͭ͋̚̚͡ ̷̶̥͇̘͉̒͋̔͑̂̑͒̎͘Y̴̻̙̙̪̮͔͎̓̎ͥ̈̈ͭͭOͨͨ̈́͏̼͔̝̲̳͇U̝͍͉̬ͮͥ̃̃ͭ͆̓ͮ͒?̧̬͎͆̄̾͋̓͂̈́̄͊͠ "

Blue fire flared up against that void blackness around the manacles and collar, tracing their runes and edges, cracking in lines of blue fire before shattering with a sharp crack louder than a shotgun blast.

He hovered over the ruined remains of his former bonds, the circle trying futily to bind him before flickering, sparking, and finally dying.

The doors locked, blue fire sealing them closed, and Alcor snarled as he held up razor sharp claws.

"Ỵ̷͔̫̘̟͓͈̬̎͂̒͟ǒ̦̩̺̬̦̂ͧu̶̸͖͍͕̯̗͈͎͈̓̒͐ͩ̓ͬ̉͐͝ ̼̱͈͓̣̪̥ͮa̡̖̩͖̗̭̝ͬ͂͊̅̓ͨ̃r̵̠̬͈̪̭̖͍̝̟ͭ̒e̫̩͓̪̽ ̼̮̮̟̞̱̹͉̿ͩ̀́p̴͔͔͎ͫ̉ͭ̎͋ͭͩl̎̓ͩͨ̔ͪͮ҉̧͚͖̭̗̰͔͓͞a̮̳͕̳ͤ̌̐̄ͦ͢͞y̹̥ͪ̀ͨ̈͟i̴̲̞̫̝̫̭ͤ̆̋n̫̫͖̄ͣ̀̿̆͐͌̑͞͝g̞̼͈͈̍̓͗̋̀͠ ͂͊̋͝͏̱̝͎w̩̻̰͖̦̄ͤ̓ͨ̇͘͢i̴̢̙͙̠̞̪̰̹̙ͬ͂͊ͯ̍ͥ̈ͥ̚ͅt̪͖͍͓̬̓̆ͬͣͨͥh̙̹̥̤̪̤͋ͦ͐ͤ̊̓ͥ͜ ̛̬̮̹̄́̄̈ͮF̜͔̟͇͍̄̃ͣͨ̕I̞̘̰̻̜̻̽͂́ͨ̍ͮͅR̭͙̤͉̠̗̣̅̈͑ͣͮ͢͞Ȅ͖͎̗̱̣ͬ̈̈ͦ͆͛͞."

Addendum note to file on Subject 24601, Alias Alcor

Do not again attempt summoning under any circumstances. May hold grudge.

I realize the zalgo's a little hard to read - for the curious who can't make it out, it says "How dare you," "HOW DARE YOU", and "You are playing with fire". Requests are open at the moment on my tumblr, .com, though I can't guarantee anything.