Hi ppls! I got no idea what to write after this, so if you have an idea, tell me!

This one's more talk than fight, and takes on a lighter air, but I'll include a little gore ;)

Sorry if some parts seem sappy =P

Satanic Wishes

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            Arriving three kilometers away from the church at dusk, Lyra stopped for a brief rest and food.  She had clumsily forgotten hay or water for Sketch, her mare, but shared her water with the starched horse.  After slaking her own thirst, and ate a roll, she hopped onto the mare's back once again and rode the remaining three miles.  She did not even bother for secrecy, firing away at any marauder she came upon.  None of them carried guns, so it was relatively easy for her.  But ignoring any chance of concealment or surprise was her mistake.

          When she arrived at the church, she was a poor sight.  Soot and grime slimed over her hair, her shirt and jeans torn and literally caked with dust.  But what was definitely worse was what she saw. 

Shit.

          Asriel had walked out of the arched doorway, equipped with two guards on either side of him, all carrying rifles aimed at her heart.  She was at Asriel's mercy.  But before she could act, he spoke.

          "My men will not kill you, Lyra.  They are merely a defense in case you… act out of turn.  I wish to talk.  Come in."

"Damn it, Asriel, what the hell do you want?"  She yelled, but she jumped off of her mare's back and strode in, flipping off the guards at the doorway, who were red with fury.  She sniggered.  It was something she would be content with if it were the last thing she did before she was killed.

          Asriel indicated a chair next to his, and she sat.

"So, Dad, What the hell are you doing?  You wanna be God?  Tough shit, man, that ain't gonna be easy."  Asriel grimaced at his title, and the term usage.  He had quite a vulgar daughter. 

          "I do not exactly want to be God, but something similar… Well, you see, in that earlier adventure of ours, there was something very important that was missing.  I personally think that being God held too much responsibility.  So I decided that I would settle for something a bit easier.  I am going to become, er… Diablo."

 Expecting a surprised and disbelieving reaction, he himself was surprised to see that she was unfazed, sarcasm the only trait in her voice.

"So you and your mighty army of five hundred mercenaries are going to resort to tyranny, fending off the millions and billions and trillions and quadrillions of people that revolt.  A very logical plan."  She could not help but grin.

"Well," Asriel began, not discouraged at the least, "many people, and angels, know about me.  Angels know everything, and there is a rumor in every street of every world that the God killer, Asriel, has returned.  Why they do not know.  Now, I have a prosperous offer for you.  Does a God"-"Devil!" Lyra broke in angrily, but he continued, "Not need mighty generals to lead his battles?"

Lyra could not believe her ears. This bastard wants me to massacre worlds for him?

"You know I'm gonna say no! Sure I kill some people, so you think I'm going to troop around the worlds knifing millions of innocent souls that revolt against a fucking Diablo like you!  Lock me up or kill me right now!"  Asriel was furious, and ordered her condemned to a jail cell in a nearby prison until she had rethought her decision carefully.

          Sketch was brought in with her.  Her cell was not damp, more of a dry, gritty texture.  They took away her knives, but they did not know about her silenced luger, as they hadn't examined the bodies of the dead.  She had hidden it in her pants, where they didn't dare search, so she still had it.  Now her guards had just to fall asleep and she was out of there…

          She abruptly jerked up from her pretended slumber, and checked on the guards, three of them.  Two were asleep, and the other was on the verge of sleep, looking blankly at the wall next to her cell.

Thump.  One down-Thump. Two, and-Yep, that's all of'em.

She had plenty of luger ammo, and carefully shot away at the bars until there was a passage large enough for her slender frame. Oh damn. She had forgotten Sketch.  The mare nickered softly, wagging her tail like a hopeful dog.  Her beautiful sketch-like colors gave way to her unique beauty, and Lyra sighed in exasperation.

"God, Sketch, how come you have to be essential and beautiful?"

          Half an hour later, Sketch was out of the cell.  There was one idea she had.  All of her life after Will had left, she had kept a single shard of the knife that had changed the two's life forever.  A single dust-gathering tear rolled down her cheek.  The shard had been of the side that cut through worlds, the important side.  Taking it out of her belt (Asriel had not thought it dangerous), she tried to feel for the niche that Will always felt.  She felt herself sink into oblivious bliss, not realizing her movements.  All of a sudden, she came back to reality and saw that she could feel something that wasn't there in the air, and cut at it.  And lo and behold, there was Will's world.

  Enlarging the cut in space, she stepped through it, Sketch following after.  The air was cooler here, she noticed and had an uneasy air about it.  And then it hit her.  She was inside a prison in Will's world!  Luckily, she was not in a cell, but a guard might take her for an escaping criminal and shoot.  She caught sight of a guard, and she slunk into the shadow.  Her spying skill and secrecy matched even that of a Gallivespian.  When he walked out of sight, she slinked over to the intersecting hallways, snuck behind the careless guard, and with a deft motion, he fell unconscious.  She was surprised to see that he owned knives, of good quality, and took them gladly.  She then ran out.  How am I supposed to find Will?

These days, people were extra careful, and even for money, she doubted anyone would take her in for the night.  Galloping far away from the prison, she came across a small town.  It was almost light, and she was tired.  And then she remembered Mary.  Mary Malone would take her in, even with Lyra's new ways, clothes and age.  She was unmistakably Lyra.  Even after all these years, Lyra remembered where she lived vividly, and started down to the town.  First she had to know where she was in Will's world, and then she could find Mary Malone.

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Sorry, I promise lots more gore in the next chappy!