Al Simmons hated this BS. Looking for Augustine was going to be a problem, as he had no clue where to look. It had been three nights from his encounter, and still those bullet wounds and the cross wound on his torso hadn't healed all the way. His leg was just now getting over the throbbing pain it felt, via Augustine's holy bullet.
This gave Spawn plenty of time to contemplate on the situation. Augustine had come out of nowhere, had known his name, and was toting a bunch of holy relics and enough faith to cause problems. What was he? A Demon hunter? The possibilities were endless, but one thing was certain: he wanted the Hellspawn.
The Hellspawn sat perched above a dumpster in his alley, planning out his course of action. Searching the back alleys of New York City might give him a few leads, or maybe he could prepare a trap for him so when Augustine came back he would be ready. Another crisp October night coated New York City, with a very light drizzle falling upon the red cape of Spawn.
Stalking towards the back of the alley, he figured it wasn't a good idea to wait for Augustine to show up. Tearing a hole in the fence in the back of the alley with a blast of green energy the big guy was getting ready to find this freak. Gold cross picked up on the way. Looking at the cross, he saw a name engraved on the back. "St. John's Church." Augustine didn't have the appearance to be a successful preacher, but maybe he could be found at the church.
The church being only a few blocks away was almost instantly assaulted by the Hellspawn. Using the back alleys, rat and cockroach infested, he was able to find his way to the church with relative ease. He loved his back alleys, they were all his. The bums were his people, the rats and cockroaches his subjects, and the ground he walked upon his territory. It was the only place left for someone like him.
Slinking around the mouth of an alleyway, he saw the Church to his left. The powers of the Hellspawn were evoked as chains shot out to smash into the building, allowing him to climb to the top. Two windows that allowed light into the spacious church were just waiting to be cinematically smashed by the Hellspawn. Taking it as his cue, Al Simmons slammed his fist into the glass and shattered it, jumping down and allowing his cape to gently settle him on the ground, floating all the way down.
There was no one in the church at this hour, and Spawn hoped he hadn't broken in for nothing. Dimmed lights were visible in the church, which had pews and various stained glass windows, detailing various holy scenes. A large crucifix was above the marble altar, this place reeked of cash. From the darkness around the altar, where no lights were glowed a white cross.
Augustine stepped out from the darkness, the cross on his head glowing. Holy pistol in one hand and a sword with Latin etchings and a cross on the hilt adorned his clenched fists. Spawn began to feel searing heat from all around him, forcing him down on his knees. "You dare defile this holy place with your presence Hellspawn, let your own sins overpower you!", the holy man bellowed.
Spawn's transgressions flashed in his mind, even killing in the name of good was tainted by his demonic nature. Each sinned burned like white fire, immobilizing him and causing him just as much pain as the holy bullets, whose wounds now glowed with a soft white hue. Forcing himself to stand, his cape whipped around him and the Hellspawn growled. "You bastard..I will kill you holy man!"
Augustine merely laughed, and walked towards Spawn, his sword outstretched. He raised it above his head, and muttered a prayer in Latin, the sword becoming overpowered with a white glow. Spawn was filled with conviction in what he perceived to be his final moments. He was a demon, he was doing evil, but all for Wanda. The prospect of never seeing her again drove his mind to the brink of insanity, breaking him from any care of his sins.
The sword came down fast and hard, but Al Simmons's hands slammed on it from left and right before it could touch the seams that kept his face together. Grinning devilishly, with balefire teeming from his eyes, his palms burned from the holy energy of the blade. He could see Augustine trying the same move he had three nights previous, he was going to drop the blade and draw his pistol. He really wanted Spawn dead.
Spawn didn't give him the chance, and he twisted the sword to get Augustine's body in an awkward position, ignoring the burning sensations that coursed through his hands and was now in his wrists. Bending down and sweeping his leg out behind Augustine's he sent the holy man tumbling to the ground, Spawn releasing his grip on the sword.
Pleased by this new turn, the Hellspawn only felt a slight paining sensation from the holy church. Augustine grinned and stood slowly, that red glow once more enveloping his body as he prayed in the language of the holy Mother Church. The glow shot out, enveloping the Hellspawn and folding in on him. Pressure like none he had ever felt before threatened to crush Al Simmons into oblivion.
Focusing all of the powers of hell in his hands, green balefire flowed freely, and was focused at the epicenter of the dome of red surrounding most of the church, and crushing him. Screaming into the globe, he released the energy, which hit the weak folding point of the energy. Searing green flames slammed through, and burned a hole right through Augustine.
Red dome fading almost immediately, the holy man fell to his knees, looking up at the Hellspawn with a shocked expression. Burn wounds covered any place blood would have to leave his body, while green embers shot forth instead. Augustine gripped his sword hilt, muttering something in a tongue long forgotten and falling over, dead in this world.
The Hellspawn watched him for many long moments, and picked up his body and the weapons as well. The weapons no longer touched him, for truly it was the power of the faith behind the user of the weapons. Leaving the way he came in using the skills of the Hellspawn, Al Simmons returned to his alley, many thoughts on his mind.
After dumping off the body Al was ready to just crash for the evening. It'd be a tough three days. Boring was good, or so he had said earlier. He was so right, and he just now realized it. Hopefully he wouldn't face anyone like that again. His wounds were closing now, they didn't burn anymore but still couldn't be healed so quickly. In the back of his head, soft Latin prayers tormented him through the night. "Pater noster...."
This gave Spawn plenty of time to contemplate on the situation. Augustine had come out of nowhere, had known his name, and was toting a bunch of holy relics and enough faith to cause problems. What was he? A Demon hunter? The possibilities were endless, but one thing was certain: he wanted the Hellspawn.
The Hellspawn sat perched above a dumpster in his alley, planning out his course of action. Searching the back alleys of New York City might give him a few leads, or maybe he could prepare a trap for him so when Augustine came back he would be ready. Another crisp October night coated New York City, with a very light drizzle falling upon the red cape of Spawn.
Stalking towards the back of the alley, he figured it wasn't a good idea to wait for Augustine to show up. Tearing a hole in the fence in the back of the alley with a blast of green energy the big guy was getting ready to find this freak. Gold cross picked up on the way. Looking at the cross, he saw a name engraved on the back. "St. John's Church." Augustine didn't have the appearance to be a successful preacher, but maybe he could be found at the church.
The church being only a few blocks away was almost instantly assaulted by the Hellspawn. Using the back alleys, rat and cockroach infested, he was able to find his way to the church with relative ease. He loved his back alleys, they were all his. The bums were his people, the rats and cockroaches his subjects, and the ground he walked upon his territory. It was the only place left for someone like him.
Slinking around the mouth of an alleyway, he saw the Church to his left. The powers of the Hellspawn were evoked as chains shot out to smash into the building, allowing him to climb to the top. Two windows that allowed light into the spacious church were just waiting to be cinematically smashed by the Hellspawn. Taking it as his cue, Al Simmons slammed his fist into the glass and shattered it, jumping down and allowing his cape to gently settle him on the ground, floating all the way down.
There was no one in the church at this hour, and Spawn hoped he hadn't broken in for nothing. Dimmed lights were visible in the church, which had pews and various stained glass windows, detailing various holy scenes. A large crucifix was above the marble altar, this place reeked of cash. From the darkness around the altar, where no lights were glowed a white cross.
Augustine stepped out from the darkness, the cross on his head glowing. Holy pistol in one hand and a sword with Latin etchings and a cross on the hilt adorned his clenched fists. Spawn began to feel searing heat from all around him, forcing him down on his knees. "You dare defile this holy place with your presence Hellspawn, let your own sins overpower you!", the holy man bellowed.
Spawn's transgressions flashed in his mind, even killing in the name of good was tainted by his demonic nature. Each sinned burned like white fire, immobilizing him and causing him just as much pain as the holy bullets, whose wounds now glowed with a soft white hue. Forcing himself to stand, his cape whipped around him and the Hellspawn growled. "You bastard..I will kill you holy man!"
Augustine merely laughed, and walked towards Spawn, his sword outstretched. He raised it above his head, and muttered a prayer in Latin, the sword becoming overpowered with a white glow. Spawn was filled with conviction in what he perceived to be his final moments. He was a demon, he was doing evil, but all for Wanda. The prospect of never seeing her again drove his mind to the brink of insanity, breaking him from any care of his sins.
The sword came down fast and hard, but Al Simmons's hands slammed on it from left and right before it could touch the seams that kept his face together. Grinning devilishly, with balefire teeming from his eyes, his palms burned from the holy energy of the blade. He could see Augustine trying the same move he had three nights previous, he was going to drop the blade and draw his pistol. He really wanted Spawn dead.
Spawn didn't give him the chance, and he twisted the sword to get Augustine's body in an awkward position, ignoring the burning sensations that coursed through his hands and was now in his wrists. Bending down and sweeping his leg out behind Augustine's he sent the holy man tumbling to the ground, Spawn releasing his grip on the sword.
Pleased by this new turn, the Hellspawn only felt a slight paining sensation from the holy church. Augustine grinned and stood slowly, that red glow once more enveloping his body as he prayed in the language of the holy Mother Church. The glow shot out, enveloping the Hellspawn and folding in on him. Pressure like none he had ever felt before threatened to crush Al Simmons into oblivion.
Focusing all of the powers of hell in his hands, green balefire flowed freely, and was focused at the epicenter of the dome of red surrounding most of the church, and crushing him. Screaming into the globe, he released the energy, which hit the weak folding point of the energy. Searing green flames slammed through, and burned a hole right through Augustine.
Red dome fading almost immediately, the holy man fell to his knees, looking up at the Hellspawn with a shocked expression. Burn wounds covered any place blood would have to leave his body, while green embers shot forth instead. Augustine gripped his sword hilt, muttering something in a tongue long forgotten and falling over, dead in this world.
The Hellspawn watched him for many long moments, and picked up his body and the weapons as well. The weapons no longer touched him, for truly it was the power of the faith behind the user of the weapons. Leaving the way he came in using the skills of the Hellspawn, Al Simmons returned to his alley, many thoughts on his mind.
After dumping off the body Al was ready to just crash for the evening. It'd be a tough three days. Boring was good, or so he had said earlier. He was so right, and he just now realized it. Hopefully he wouldn't face anyone like that again. His wounds were closing now, they didn't burn anymore but still couldn't be healed so quickly. In the back of his head, soft Latin prayers tormented him through the night. "Pater noster...."