Spawn was pissed off. He was always pissed off, it was the nature of the now deceased Al Simmons. The Hellspawn curled up in his cape, in one of his favorite back alleys in New York City. His baleful green eyes watched the outside of the alley, seeing the people shopping on this crisp October evening. A light chill was out, and the sky was clear, giving the Hellspawn a good view of the Heavens. I don't think I'm supposed to see Heaven anymore, but that's my reward for escaping hell.
That and all of the nifty powers that came with being the Hellspawn. Cape flowing slightly in the breeze, looking as though it had a mind of it's own Spawn reflected on his current situation. His personal quest against his creator was at a halt, and it seemed he was going to have a boring few weeks. He liked boring however, it meant time without getting the crap beaten out of him. Boring still managed to piss our hero off though.
"Al Simmons? Have you accepted Jesus into your life?" The Hellspawn turned to see the speaker, a tall lean man dressed in a brown overcoat, which was covered in crosses. A cross tattoo started below his nose and worked it's way up around his eyes, and finally over his bald head. He had his hands in the pocket of his coat, a gold cross hanging from his neck. "I know I have, and I am at peace. Are you Hellspawn?"
Al Simmons watched the figure who stood behind him in the alley, now pissed off that something new was coming up. He didn't like this cross-toting freak, especially one who knew his name. This was bound to get dicey. The Hellspawn's chains moved on their own accord, shooting out for the figure who made the sign of the cross and muttered a few words in Latin, a soft red hue encircling him and making the chains snap back. Like serpents they hissed as they hit the barrier, waiting for the shield to lower. "In nomine spiritu sancti.." his prayer trailed off, adding to the range of the shield, slowly inching towards Spawn, he felt the baleful glow in his bones.
Spawn grunted and stepped back a few paces, almost at the mouth of the alley now. Raising his right hand a green glow encircled it, which pulsed and teemed with the energies of hell. Sending it for the shield, it folded in upon himself and the prayers of the bald figure increased, vaporizing the green beam and then faltering. Opening his brown overcoat, the figure revealed a full arsenal of pistols and daggers, crosses covering them and etched into the gun handles and knife hilts.
Jumping to the side behind a dumpster that was a few feet away from the wall, he managed to barely take a bullet in the leg as the cross-toting freak unloaded a half a clip from each of his pistols. The bullet hurt like hell, but not as much as it would have hurt a normal human. Al Simmons tried to heal it, his left hand glowing a soft golden hue. Upon looking down though, he noticed the white glow coming from the bullet. The wound would not close, cursing he waited behind the dumpster, coming up with a plan.
"I am Augustine Dandalo, hunter of the Hellspawn as Divine Punishment from the Lord our God. I use tools of faith to obliterate the fiendish from this place of splendor, all of creation resounds with my holy might. Come out and meet your fate Hellspawn."
Al Simmons laughed, and leapt over the dumpster, his hand immediately wrapped around the neck of the hunter. Augustine grinned, choking as the grip of the Hellspawn tightened, his guns fell from his hands at the pressure, but Augustine lifted his left hand and drew the sign of the cross on the Hellspawn's stomach. A white glow burned like liquid fire, cutting out the cross in Spawn's flesh.
Letting go of Dandalo, Al was now not just pissed off, but very pissed off. Unable to heal this new wound, Dandalo removed two daggers and twirled them in his hands. Spawn's chains rose to defend him as the hunter moved with unprecedented speed, lashing out with both knives, left and right, up and down. The chains wrapped around the knives making them immobile and then the Hellspawn grinned, he would move in for the kill, his right hand glowing with a green fire.
Letting go of the knives Augustine drew a pistol, hidden in one of his pockets. Augustine blasted the Hellspawn three times in the chest before Al Simmons fell to the Earth, his chains unraveling. Augustine wiped the blood from his mouth and moved to stand over the writhing figure of Al Simmons. He aimed the gun directly at his head, and began a Latin prayer. Closing his eyes a white glow enveloped his gun as a Latin prayer was spoken, the Hellspawn unable to move but seeing his apparent doom.
Spawn could not die like this, some freak Christian hunter who somehow knew his name was not going to end the existence he'd managed to keep through thick and thin. He'd fought the fricking armies of hell, no human was going to take him down. Green fire still upon his hand he released it at the gun, a clash of white and green shattering the pistol into a million pieces, burning the hand of Augustine. Cursing for his carelessness Augustine, turned and ran down the alley at top speed, muscular legs pumping under blue jeans.
Spawn rose slowly and watched him leave, interested by this human. He would meet him again most likely, but not under better circumstances at all. This was defiantly an opponent he would not befriend. Spawn gripped the wounds caused by the holy symbols and bullets, panting and retreating into the solace of his alley. Augustine was nowhere to be found, but a gold cross laid on the ground. Spawn picked it up and held it in his hand, surprised it didn't hurt him. Apparently the faith behind the person using the cross was what made it dangerous, not the object.
Chapter 2 is on it's way.
That and all of the nifty powers that came with being the Hellspawn. Cape flowing slightly in the breeze, looking as though it had a mind of it's own Spawn reflected on his current situation. His personal quest against his creator was at a halt, and it seemed he was going to have a boring few weeks. He liked boring however, it meant time without getting the crap beaten out of him. Boring still managed to piss our hero off though.
"Al Simmons? Have you accepted Jesus into your life?" The Hellspawn turned to see the speaker, a tall lean man dressed in a brown overcoat, which was covered in crosses. A cross tattoo started below his nose and worked it's way up around his eyes, and finally over his bald head. He had his hands in the pocket of his coat, a gold cross hanging from his neck. "I know I have, and I am at peace. Are you Hellspawn?"
Al Simmons watched the figure who stood behind him in the alley, now pissed off that something new was coming up. He didn't like this cross-toting freak, especially one who knew his name. This was bound to get dicey. The Hellspawn's chains moved on their own accord, shooting out for the figure who made the sign of the cross and muttered a few words in Latin, a soft red hue encircling him and making the chains snap back. Like serpents they hissed as they hit the barrier, waiting for the shield to lower. "In nomine spiritu sancti.." his prayer trailed off, adding to the range of the shield, slowly inching towards Spawn, he felt the baleful glow in his bones.
Spawn grunted and stepped back a few paces, almost at the mouth of the alley now. Raising his right hand a green glow encircled it, which pulsed and teemed with the energies of hell. Sending it for the shield, it folded in upon himself and the prayers of the bald figure increased, vaporizing the green beam and then faltering. Opening his brown overcoat, the figure revealed a full arsenal of pistols and daggers, crosses covering them and etched into the gun handles and knife hilts.
Jumping to the side behind a dumpster that was a few feet away from the wall, he managed to barely take a bullet in the leg as the cross-toting freak unloaded a half a clip from each of his pistols. The bullet hurt like hell, but not as much as it would have hurt a normal human. Al Simmons tried to heal it, his left hand glowing a soft golden hue. Upon looking down though, he noticed the white glow coming from the bullet. The wound would not close, cursing he waited behind the dumpster, coming up with a plan.
"I am Augustine Dandalo, hunter of the Hellspawn as Divine Punishment from the Lord our God. I use tools of faith to obliterate the fiendish from this place of splendor, all of creation resounds with my holy might. Come out and meet your fate Hellspawn."
Al Simmons laughed, and leapt over the dumpster, his hand immediately wrapped around the neck of the hunter. Augustine grinned, choking as the grip of the Hellspawn tightened, his guns fell from his hands at the pressure, but Augustine lifted his left hand and drew the sign of the cross on the Hellspawn's stomach. A white glow burned like liquid fire, cutting out the cross in Spawn's flesh.
Letting go of Dandalo, Al was now not just pissed off, but very pissed off. Unable to heal this new wound, Dandalo removed two daggers and twirled them in his hands. Spawn's chains rose to defend him as the hunter moved with unprecedented speed, lashing out with both knives, left and right, up and down. The chains wrapped around the knives making them immobile and then the Hellspawn grinned, he would move in for the kill, his right hand glowing with a green fire.
Letting go of the knives Augustine drew a pistol, hidden in one of his pockets. Augustine blasted the Hellspawn three times in the chest before Al Simmons fell to the Earth, his chains unraveling. Augustine wiped the blood from his mouth and moved to stand over the writhing figure of Al Simmons. He aimed the gun directly at his head, and began a Latin prayer. Closing his eyes a white glow enveloped his gun as a Latin prayer was spoken, the Hellspawn unable to move but seeing his apparent doom.
Spawn could not die like this, some freak Christian hunter who somehow knew his name was not going to end the existence he'd managed to keep through thick and thin. He'd fought the fricking armies of hell, no human was going to take him down. Green fire still upon his hand he released it at the gun, a clash of white and green shattering the pistol into a million pieces, burning the hand of Augustine. Cursing for his carelessness Augustine, turned and ran down the alley at top speed, muscular legs pumping under blue jeans.
Spawn rose slowly and watched him leave, interested by this human. He would meet him again most likely, but not under better circumstances at all. This was defiantly an opponent he would not befriend. Spawn gripped the wounds caused by the holy symbols and bullets, panting and retreating into the solace of his alley. Augustine was nowhere to be found, but a gold cross laid on the ground. Spawn picked it up and held it in his hand, surprised it didn't hurt him. Apparently the faith behind the person using the cross was what made it dangerous, not the object.
Chapter 2 is on it's way.