Commando Paintball. Edward Whitelaw's one favourite place in the world. Which was rather strange, considering that all that ever really happened there was participants getting shot-rather smartingly-with balls filled with a yellow goo. Then again, Edward himself was a little strange in that regard, though his reasons weren't insane. Laying down just behind the crest of a grassy hill, barricaded by a couple of sandboxes, the only real thing on Edward's mind was how much the pods on the front of his vest dug into his ribs.
A stark difference from the bland rental coveralls and equipment the walk-ons used, Edward sported pixellated tan BDUs, a fully covered olive green mask and a tactical vest with a shemagh wrapped around his throat. He carried a visually intimidating Bravo One Elite marker, underestimated by pros and feared by rentals. It had been a long time since he had used a rental gun. Looking back, it was clear the rookies were a little shell-shocked. None of them were moving up, and some of them ducked behind cover before a single round came out of their barrels. He couldn't blame them. He had done the same when he first started out.
Edward popped out of cover, rifle up. He snapped the hybrid zoom sight into a usable position, his vision now magnified threefold. Looking through it, he spotted a patch of red grass, which was actually dyed hair. An eyebrow raised in surprise. He hadn't previously seen anyone with red hair, or even dyed hair, period. He then dismissed it as some unidentified creature only he could see. It was a strange thing, though he was frequently told to ignore it. His adopted parents thought it would get him thrown in a mental hospital; in fact, they had considered actually putting him in one.
He realized he'd been out of cover for too long when a shot hit its mark over his shoulder. Ducking back behind the construction, he cursed himself for the instance of tunnel vision. He checked himself, finding no paint anywhere on him. Good. He came back out and shot at a tower. A hand raised and he grinned. 'Got him,' he thought cheerfully. He also noticed the redhead had disappeared.
A shout could suddenly be heard, and to him it sounded like, "Game over!" He stood up, heading back to the staging area. Last game of the day, and he got the final tag. Not bad at all.
Upon returning to his adoptive father's car, Edward could hear movement coming from his right. Nothing special, just a crunch of gravel. He turned, and the first thing that caught his eye was bright red hair. His eyes traveled downward, passing over his fairly handsome face, his black t-shirt, landing on a knife the length of Edward's forearm. He knew this meant trouble, but if he tried to defend himself against something no one else could see, there would be more trouble. His priorities shifted to survival. Not shifting his stance, he called out to his not-so-new guardian.
"Dad, could you wait here, please? I won't be long." Edward began backing up as he said this, looking at his fatherly figure. "I just have some... Business to attend to."
With that, he turned around and ran, not bothering to wait for an answer. The artificially red-haired boy followed him. Edward had stripped of his mask, marker, vest and shemagh, making it easier to run. Without the protective mask, Edward's brown hair was rather prominent against his fair skin, covering a skull that held a brain which scored in the 140's on most IQ tests. Whenever his eyes came over something, which they always did, whoever was looking would have seen deep brown irises around the same colour of his hair. He was fairly good looking, almost as handsome as the demon; his personality was weird enough to make most girls disengage once they knew him, however.
Footsteps pounded on gravel, and the only thing on Edward's mind was to get out of public sight. Then he could focus on taking care of this asshole. He had been told before to ignore the world of myth. All his life, his adoptive parents had told him to simply look away, to not bother them, for fear of being hospitalized. This time, myth could not be ignored if he was to survive.
He came to a piece of protective netting that stood before a forested playing field. Deciding that this was out of sight enough, he turned around to find the psycho blocking the way back. He got into a fighting stance as the red-haired boy raised the knife high. Now that Edward could see the boy's eyes, he knew they weren't human. No human had bright green eyes naturally, nor did they have a crimson sclera.
The boy brought the knife down, towards Edward's neck. It seemed to move in slow motion, and Alex felt a stab of fear. One wrong move and Edward was a dead man.
The boy would have finished the action had his wrist not been grabbed.
Edward kicked the boy in the stomach and punched him in the upper jaw when he reeled over. Twisting the wrist that held the knife immediately, he did not allow for a second of recovery. By the next second, the knife was in Edward's hand. He shoved the aggressor away, his eyes alight with shock at the feat he had just performed. He never imagined having to use the knife training he occasionally had at his karate classes.
Rapidly, the boy turned around, unfazed by the disarmament. Edward knew this meant trouble. The psychotic boy lunged, but Edward took hold of his right arm. With a poignant knee strike to the face, he drove the knife into the young man's bicep. Black blood oozed from the wound, and the boy cried out in pain. The redhead was shoved away once more.
A shout of rage emitted from the overly aggressive boy before it was silenced by another humanoid figure's interference. A hand spun the psycho boy's shoulders around and he collapsed, a wound in his chest with more black fluid seeping out. It reminded him of a robot leaking hydraulic fluid, in three places now.
Edward looked at his saviour with shock, then gratitude, then shock again, then a mixture of the two.
"Th... Tha... Thank you," he got out between heavy breaths. His eyes returned to the insane boy. The bipedal figure suddenly began to collapse on itself, to Edward's surprise. After a minute, only earth remained. Not even a drop of blood was left to stain the dirt, which was now marked with both of their footprints.
"What the hell was that?" Edward asked incredulously. His breath had caught itself, but his brain wasn't caught up enough to identify the organism that had just disappeared, nor was it able to figure out why he was just attacked. He had seen strange things, but he had never seen anything like this. The postmortem of the humanoid creature seemed to calm him somewhat. He felt a little safer, lest the second one was there to kill him as well. He kept his guard up, but his hands remained at his sides.
As he scanned his companion more thoroughly, he found she was a woman-perhaps even a girl, she looked so young-relatively well built, with long brown hair that fell past her shoulders. Her face was one of slight anxiousness, clearly uncomfortable in this place.
"I... I can't explain here, but come with me and I promise you will be safe." The girl's tone was frantic, as if she sensed more boys like the one that had just disappeared in the immediate area. He still couldn't tell whether or not to trust her. His fist clenched and unclenched itself.
"Well, my dad will get anxious if I'm not back very soon," Edward countered, gently stroking his chin with his right hand. This must have been a little strange for the girl, as she was standing in front of a teenage boy with combat fatigues on. Though, this was to be expected at a paintball field.
Eventually, Edward's curiosity got the better of him. "Alright, fine. I'll let you take me wherever, but if you try and kill me, I promise you, it will backfire miserably." He hoped the threat was deterrent enough; truth be told, he was not sure if he could actually kill someone. Though, with the previous encounter, he was feeling a little badass.
The girl rolled her eyes, before opening her mouth to speak. She was quickly cut off by another, seemingly angelic female voice. It had an accent, barely there, that Edward could only describe as British.
"Great. Your only other option is to stay here and potentially get killed by more demons." Edward whirled around to face the speaker, who just so happened to be a girl that seemed to be made of gold. Her skin was a paler gold, but everything else was the exact colour of the metal: Her hair, her eyes that seemed oddly like a cat's, everything. Something about her put a bad taste in Edward's mouth. Perhaps he didn't like the sight of someone so golden, ironically. He tried to identify what on earth the girl might be. A witch? No, she had weird tattoos all over her skin; witches didn't, from what he knew. Werewolves and vampires were out of the question, and she was far too large to be a fairy.
Edward rolled his eyes. "I already said I'll go, unless you two want to try and-" He cut himself off at the sight of a black tattoo on the girl's right hand. It seemed reminiscent of an eye; he looked down at his own hand, and found that the tattoos were exactly alike. He looked the girl in the eyes, avoiding the golden girl's gaze. "Well, that's weird," he muttered.
The girl in front of him-decidedly the more normal one-ignored him completely. "Celine, be nice. I'm rather sure your death threats are not convincing him to come with us. Now, am I orbing home with you two?"
The angelic girl named Celine merely rolled her feline eyes. "Hey, I'm just warning him of imminent death. By the Angel, it's not like I'm actually going to kill him..."
"Orbing?" Edward interjected, his tone bewildered. He'd never heard of such a mode of transport; it seemed as supernatural as what had occurred a minute ago. Whatever it was, it appeared better than staying here, with possible threats galore.
"Also, how did you find me at a paintball field?" He added. The question had been burning in his head the whole conversation, even if it had only been going on for about thirty seconds.
"Well," Celine said, "we weren't looking for you, per se. We were actually looking for the demon."
"We can have this discussion later," the girl in front of Edward said impatiently. "Celine, are you coming?" The girl said, extending her hand, which Celine took.
"Of course, Katie," Celine replied, looking between Katie and Edward. "Charlie would have my head on a platter if I'm not home when he is."
"I wouldn't think about that if I were you. Besides, my arms are starting to ache," the other girl complained, turning towards Edward. "You coming?"
Reluctantly, Edward took Isla's hand, looking at Celine. She flashed a grin at him, but that did nothing to relieve his suspicions. 'Showoff,' he thought, chewing on his inner cheek. The rest of the sentence was cut off by him spinning into what seemed like oblivion.
Lights flashed all around the three of them, a blur of blues and greens and reds, before Edward's feet hit solid ground. He stumbled forward, eventually falling and rolling to compensate. He had landed on grass, so it was easier than concrete. Edward finally stopped and looked around, his face suddenly paling. They weren't at Commando Paintball. Or anywhere near it.
New York City unfolded all around them; what looked like a massive Gothic church stood in front of him. Edward could not comprehend it, no matter how hard he tried. But that paled in comparison with his other thought: What would his adoptive father think? Then again, perhaps he should wait to process all this new information that he could feel waiting to dump on him.
"Home at last! DIBS ON THE TRAINING ROOM!" Celine shouted, and bolted for the door.
So this is where they live, Edward thought.