Earlier…

Azrael's House.

In the middle of the night where only one member of the household bothered to sleep. The other two were huddled by the dusty counter that was decorated only by the phone lying on top. The air of the room was cold and silent, that being a given considering the two where more closely associated with death than any normal person should be.

"So… the trip is cancelled?" Mors' dull expression highlighted how shocking this news was to her. One minute, she's hyped to be visiting Tokyo. The next, that opportunity was blown into the wind.

"Yeah. Mr. W called in. Something has attacked the Shibuya Metro Station. We aren't sure what it is, but if it's Demon related, we best be prepared." Azrael says with gloomy eyes. Although, he almost always looked like that. The bags around his eyes were so entrenched in shadows. At times, it would hard to tell that he even had eyes from a distance.

Couldn't blame him for that appearance. He wasn't just a dad. Spending days swamped in paperwork between from all sides would take the sunshine out of anyone, even a creation of God. Not helped that he's not as strong as he used to be.

"Damn. Well, put me in coach. I'll have that POS in ribbons before you can stay pop tarts!" Her tone switched back to her standard goofy self rather quickly. Even though she did it often, it always struck a nerve with the people around her. Azrael included.

"No. That's not gonna work." He tried to correct his daughter's humor, to not much success.

"I mean, I know pop-tarts isn't that long of a word— "Mors had that instinctual need to respond back with humor at nearly every angle. She'd always quip back with some kind of snark or her attempt at humor. It wasn't because she was stupid, no. She was just really bad at keeping a serious tone. Might be because her brain's been knocked around her skull a good few dozen times.

"No, I mean, we don't know what's going on. We can't risk it, yet." Again, Azrael tried to get Mors back on track. His sternness was a lot harsher than usual. This was something he really wanted her to take seriously.

"Wait… Why? Not like it can kill me." Her eyes rolled in the belief that her dad would still be concerned about her health in any way.

She certainly wasn't.

"Ignoring that, you can very much have your butt kicked into next Tuesday… literally." The memories of Mors early on in her career flood into his mind as he continued, "I can't send you on a wild goose chase for something like this."

"Seriously?" Her tone is much more like the stereotypical teenage girl whining about being grounded. Even though she was older than she looked, she still acted like a kid.

"Not now. I'll have some informants looking for whatever is causing this. Now, freshen up and get ready. I've got some errands for you to run after."

Mors beams at the thought that she could kick some ass, even just a little bit, before the reveal; "We need some groceries for dinner for the rest of this week." Realizing that this night was going be dull had her slamming her head onto the counter. She rises back up, head clearly bruised from the impact. However, she doesn't even seem fazed at the injuries. Neither does Azrael. In fact, he was more worried she'd accidentally shatter the counter with a single head slam more than her being injured from the head banging. Thankfully, there wasn't a scratch on the thing.

It was made out of furnished oak. It stood out from most other things in their house, clear not only that it was the one piece of furniture that a guest could call "pretty", but also by the fact that it costs half as much as rent did. As another mark, this thing was a gift from Mr. W. as a token of gratitude. All that combined meant that damaging the counter would be more paperwork and an apology letter to a confused beneficiary.

Hearing a grateful sight from her dad, Mors retreats to the bathroom. She's a bit frustrated, but that wasn't something she could solve. Not this late especially. It was going to be a dull night of doing basic chores. Maybe if she was lucky, some shadows would be stupid enough to try and attack her. Wouldn't be fun, but it would be something at least.

"Well, I might just be shit out of luck, eh?" Even in private, she couldn't help but make a joke.

Terrible.

A voice! From where? Mors searches up and down the bathroom, but nothing came up. She gives a final careful glance for whatever intruder might be spying on her. Still no one. Might have been her brain making her hear things.

Again, all that rattling didn't help her much.

Present Day,

Classes were out. They have been for a good hour or so. Leaving Bell all by himself at a street corner. But he didn't mind it. He had told his dad he'd be hanging around the town until the evening. Bell hadn't gotten used to being alone for a long time. Wednesdays always seemed like that.

Especially this Wednesday, since his friends weren't exactly available. Issei was preoccupied with 'devil businesses. Whatever that could mean was up to interpretation. Definitely something concerning Rias and her peerage. As for Matsuda and Motohama, he couldn't really tell if they were busy, or he just wasn't told that they were doing something that he didn't care too much for.

To tell the truth, Bell had always been the odd one out of the three. Even more than Issei. He was a loner, but rather from being a pervert, more so because he was… "weird". It was hard to explain for most kids around him, but Bell just had that sense of unease and puzzling behavior that most folks would find… odd. Unnerving smiles, dirty red hair (unlike Rias' gleaming crimson locks), eyes that looked like they were always in a frenzy. That didn't leave much to a judgmental crowd of highschoolers. Just left him with the other outcasts, and even by then, about 2/3rds of them didn't share the same interests. Really, only he and Issei connected as friends, Matsuda and Motohama just occasionally said hi and didn't find Bell too weird to hang out with.

But Bell didn't mind.

Glancing from side to side, he tried to see what was going on in the town. Kuoh had always been a rather quiet place. Not a lot of people walking about, or even cars on the road. No wonder so many Supernatural beings had been attracted to this place, no one could see what they were doing and if anyone tried to out them, who would believe them? Especially when they don't remember that person even existing in the first place.

There was always that sense of worry, especially about some Supernatural creature taking Bell by surprise as some unsuspecting innocent and trying to make him into a victim. Well, the biggest area of concern wasn't even Demons, nor even Rogue Devils. Even with a lack of Magic to call his own, he could still give those beings a run for their money with his innate strength.

No, it was the Fallen Angels he was worried about. They weren't all too intimidating, but the main source of concern was their Light Magic. Demons were more susceptible to Light Magic than even Devils. Simple Light Bullets could shred through them like butter. That meant Bell would be privy to this weakness as well. With the nature of their light magic being poisonous to Devils and Demons. Enough of it could even halt his already lesser healing factor. Thankfully, Rias had disposed of the main presence of Fallen within Kuoh, but there was always the chance that one random Fallen would single him out and all it would take is the right position to take his head off in a single spear.

Regardless, all that worry was pushed to the back of his mind as he heard the bouncing of a ball. He looked down to notice that a basketball had made its way to his foot, and he at once looked to find the owner. A few feet away from him, a tall guy, looking around that college age, in sweatpants that did not gel well with his jersey was making a gesture to Bell to toss his ball back.

On command, Bell reached down and tossed the ball in one swift motion. The ball races overhead and lands to the side of the man, right into a nearby wall before bouncing off in another direction. The man looks to his bouncing ball, before looking back with daggers in his eyes at Bell. He then moves to catch his bouncing ball.

Bell bows his head in disappointment. Must have put a little too much in that toss.

He goes back to smiling when someone in trouble catches his eye. A food cart was stuck in a pothole. It was decorated with all kinds of bags and pockets on top of its wooden exterior. Seeing a food cart in the bustling part of the town was rare. That was more for the cliffsides, apartments, or that one time in the forest. Still, even the irregularity of this wasn't enough to sway his resolve and he rushes off to help.

"Excuse me?" Bell starts off, confidence in his voice, "Sir, do you need help?"

From the carriage, pops up a man. Easily in his late 30's, rather short beard, many men tan skin than you'd usually see, and having all the clothing you'd see on a street vendor. "Oh. Hey, kid. Whatcha looking for?"

"Uhmmm… Need some help with your cart… being stuck…" His hair fuzzed up in worry as hesitantly asked. He looks up from his side, then back at Bell.

"Uhm, no! I'm good! Really, just… need… to…" He starts to strain himself as trying to lift the cart up, before a slight crack could be heard. He quickly let's go and starts to pat his back in pain. Oh, boy, this is going to be hard to watch. Bell starts to inch over to the back of the cart as the man tries to recover his strength.

Bell takes a close look; The back left wheel had gotten trapped in a small pothole, tilting the cart sideways. Not too bad. Gauging the size of the cart, it can't be any heavier than the groceries he brings back from his house, right?

Boy, was he wrong. This cart weighed almost as much as a car! What was in this thing? It was like it was filled with nothing but rocks and stones. Even as he lifted with his legs, it was taking much of his might to actually lift the thing out of the hole. Not to mention maneuvering a small wheel out of a tiny hole was much more complicated than he would have it be.

Minutes go by, and finally, Bell is able to lift the cart up and out of the hole. All it took was some sprained fingers and worn-out legs. Staggering legs weren't too much of a concern to the man as this random kid had just done something wonderful.

"Hahaha! Yes! Thanks kid!" The man spins around to see that Bell was clearly exhausted. Oh, that was unfortunate. However, he had the perfect solution! He reaches into the many bags and whips out a bottle of water. With a good toss, he chucks the thing at Bell, who catches even through his weakness.

"Try some! Its sparkling water keeps you refreshed. On the house!" In that same breath, the man is racing down the street, gone before Bell could say anything. Huh. Well, at least he was happy. Speaking of which, he looks down at the bottle he had gotten. Sparkling Water? Hadn't really heard of it.

He twists the cap open, a harsh fizz coming from the top. The boy starts to turn down the beverage and within seconds, he's done. He couldn't really tell if there was supposed to be a difference with the drink, other than tasting 'spicy'.

"At least I feel refreshed," Bell openly comments. He starts to look for a can to toss the bottle into, but right then, he gets a tap from behind. He spins around to meet an elderly lady with a worried look.

"E-Excuse me, young man… could you help me look for my son? I can't seem to f-find him…" Tears are nearly welling up in her eyes. Bell thinks of all the things that could be going on with this woman. People at this age don't think as clearly, and sometimes they just wander about, looking for someone.

The pleading of the old woman drew concern onto Bell's face, and he at once does his best to comfort the woman. He asks, "Ok. Can you tell me where you live?"

She points down the lane, starting to move towards the intersection. Bell follows behind, tucking his plastic bottle into his pockets. He'll throw the bottle away later.

STARS.

One step below the big dogs, they're an intelligence agency made to counter Supernatural Phenomena. The difference between them, and many other forces? They are closer to a scientific research institution rather than a full-on paramilitary force. Agents were more "find out how this thing works" rather than an "stop it". In fact, they were more concerned about learning how to use magic for human usage.

That didn't mean they didn't have agents that were combat ready. A small force of about 4 to 5 soldiers were ready, specializing in the response and countering of Demons, magical artifacts, and the occasional monster thrown in there.

All that being said, they weren't exactly all too special. At least by themselves. That's why they had to outsource their more "resourceful" help.

"Is the area clear?" A voice buzzed over the comms.

"Yes, the area is sealed off."

"Good. Commence Operations."

A van parked right outside of a clinic opens up as 5 people dressed in plumbing gear file out. They all huddled behind the front door, walking into the receptionist desk. The clinic is rather small, with no one in the longue, the place is a little disheveled and things are struggling to attempt to hold a sense of cleanliness. The lady at the desk looks at the 5.

"Oh… you must be the Plumbers."

"Yes. We heard you might be dealing with a possible faulty pipeline?" The 'plumber in front asks and the receptionist nods.

"All of our staff is saying that they can't open the door to the gas room because whenever they touch the nob, there's a 'weird feeling'. And we can't pick up on anything. It's down the hall and to the left." She points to the foremost hall and the pattering of boots is quickly followed.

Down the hall, the group enters into the gas room. The room is rusting, dilapidated, with a black fluid seeping through the walls. 3 of the 'plumbers' stand outside as two more enter.

Once through the door, one of them digs into a duffel bag they were carrying. 1 of them get into much more tactical gear, body armor, helmets and guns of the sorts. Suited up, they get to secure the area.

Placing down several tether-like devices that they configure with a tablet.

"Pseudo-Barrier set. Initializing…" A few swipes of the tablet later, the tethers glow and a grey veil rises up in front of the door. "Pseudo-Barrier complete. Standing by. Agent M, it's your turn."

The final person, still in their plumber disguise, takes her cap off and reveals Mors' brown hair. With a stretch, she cracks her joints into action. And with a twirl of her hand, she extends forth her bone-scythe.

"Alright." As she starts to walk down the hall, before doing an instant 180 turn. "What demon are looking for again?"

Just then, multiple blood red spines jut underneath the floor, stabbing right into Mors. It stabs right into her foot, causing her to wince slightly.

"Oh yeah… The Leech D-Demon… I'm positiveof it…" Still making bad puns in situations like these. She quickly whips out a sidearm from her holster, before firing it straight down. The blood spike is destroyed within an instant, as well as there know being a softball sized hole in the floor.

"Agent M!" one of her allies called out, to which Mors spins around and gives a dumb look.

"What, you gonna call me a troubleshooteror something?" She gives a hearty laugh, unaware of all the blood spikes rushing towards her.

Behind you.

She redirects her attention to the oncoming projectiles, twirling her scythe in one-hand as she shatters them. Though, one does graze the side of her waist.

You haven't given yourself armor. Idiot.

"I don't need armor for this chump." Mors comments to the voice. She could manage something like this in her sleep. It's just hard juggling shooting and scythe twirling all at the same time. More and more spikes come towards her, really testing her skill with her signature weapon. More and more grazes on her skin are made before eventually, a spike finally pierces her shoulder.

You don't need armor for this-what did you say? Oh right! Chump?

Sarcasm wasn't on the docket, it was now. All the worse when the spike began to melt into a liquid. It was then telekinetically lifted back to its source, taking a good amount of Mors' blood.

A growl from the shadow lingers on the word Demon. It soon lumbers out with a wet jiggle, standing before her. It was a giant leech, it's front dotted with smaller rows of teeth. It had pairs of arms across its sides, as well as some legs to support its weight.

"Ugh… Not enough to leech off of human blood, you're starting to leech off their looks." She rebukes, greatly angering the demon.

The demons' rushes offer to get closer to Mors, tripping over its newly acquired limbs like it was a newborn. When he was 5 feet from her, it started to roar.

Mors just looks off the side, seeing the agents, some gawking at their words, one even recording what it's saying, others in a ready stance, prepared to shoot on command. She looks back to the Leech Demons, all to be met with a continuous stream of wordless roars. It howls in fury, pulls itself back, and roars. On its second roar, she's had enough.

She quickly whips out her gun and fires a round into its face. A small explosion goes with the bullet, shredding through half of the demon's face, leaving behind a melty, gooey blackness that leaks onto the ground.

The X1 Explosive Hand Cannon. Loaded with specialized explosive rounds having a high-explosive filler with a yield of «1 kT, further amplified with all sorts of magic, especially ones that were runic in nature. Perfect for tearing through demons.

Furious at this, the creature extends for its many hands. They give a reddish glow; the same hue is soon present in the black fluids seeping through the walls. With a flick of her wrist, torrents of blood spill out. While in flight, the blood is converted into weapons of all kinds; swords, axes, hammers, wrecking balls, all given a crimson hue.

The Horseman of Death swiftly dodges the barrage of blood constructs, shooting several out of the sky and reflecting even more with her Scythe. Fortunately, all the attention was away from the other agent, meaning she could give it a little more juice.

She landed on her feet, ignoring the pain from the minor cuts from miniscule shards imbedding themselves into her muscles. The moment she takes a break to rest, pints of blood start to flow towards the Demons. They seep into the wet skin and begin to meld into the flesh.

The lumbering monster gets on all its limbs and gallops like a frenzied horse. 4 more shots ring out, all blasting off an assortment of limbs but that wasn't enough to even stop its momentum. It took one final leap and dove down, maw agape and teeth chattering like jackhammers.

In the nick of time, Mors catches both ends of the creature's mouth before it chomps down. Its lower half is brough down by gravity, while its upper half presses down and down in an attempt to split her in two.

Mors, meanwhile, tried her best to resist the press of the jaws. With her gun and scythe discarded, her hands wrapped in a layer of bone-like armor to stop the teeth from ripping through her flesh like butter. Every moment she resisted, the ground beneath her started to crack into a crater. Her eyes pointed down at the ground as she tried her best to keep focused, up until for the briefest moment, her gaze turned up to look into the monster's throat, to be met with a flash of blood raining down onto her.

All she could do was reinforce her head in her bone armor as a torrent of blood pierces through her uninjured shoulder. Pain rings out as she can feel her blood start to be sucked out faster and fast, that pain soon fading as she's losing more and more blood.

Realizing she can't afford to lose any more blood; she decides that it's time to wrap it up. Her hand clamped down on the jaws as hard as she could, crushing the chunk of flesh she was latching onto. With one heave, she hoists the Leech up into the air, sending all of it high up for a little bit before slamming it back down with an even greater force.

The Demon wriggled in her grasp, soon feeling the weight of her foot nearly crushing whatever bones could have been in there. Mors uses her free hand to summon back her scythe, drawing close to her shoulder and in flash, swiping it across the creature's length, splitting it in two.

The wet sloshes of blood dripped out of the carcass as it crumbled into a dark mush that soon dissipated. Around Mors, the pipe room reverts back to its less worn-down state, the darkened liquid going the way of its progenitor.

"Wow…" the agent comments in awe. They had never seen Mors in action like this, the closest being all the field reports and drone footage they're captured, but to see it in person was something else. Just that raw strength to split a monster like that with only one slice was nothing short of remarkable.

"T-That Demon… It was odd…" Mors stammers out, still standing where she had defeated her foe.

"Yes." The Agent added, "It was mindless, but it had a good grasp of Chaos Magic… and it was mutating… that is odd… unless that's a thing Demons can do, right?" The agent waits for a response, but one never comes. In fact, she would have to wait a little longer, since Mors was pretty anemic statue.

Mission Complete… with 'minimal losses.

Azrael always said, be careful around strangers. Of course, that wisdom wasn't unfounded, but Bell always seemed to disregard this fact whenever it came to helping people in need.

If Bell had listened to his dad, he wouldn't be in this predicament.

The old lady had taken him to a disheveled warehouse, and that didn't seem to strike him as odd. Maybe she was confused and didn't know what was or where was where. The same could not be said when seconds after entering, Bell felt a sharp pain from behind his back a red spear-like object had stabbed him.

When he spun back around, the old lady he was trying to help was gone. From her body sprung out a mass of leeches taking on a variety of forms. Apparently, it was hungry and to it, Bell was just a simple person to snack on.

Bell tried fighting back, he really did. But raw brute strength wasn't enough for something that wielded blood as if it was a second limb. Minutes of being slashed and stabbed was enough to take out even his tenacity, as his body gave way and collapsed.

The demon didn't even bother treating the body with respect, discarding him like a trash bag into a dumpster, saving him as a little treat for later.

Was this his fate? Slowly bleeding out to death in a dumpster, eventually becoming nothing more but food? This wasn't what Bell wanted. This isn't how he wanted to go out. Not doing anything, not leaving his mark on the world, not even unlocking his powers. This can't be it… can it?

Dad always asked me… what did I want to do with my life? What would I do to give myself meaning?

All I ever wanted to do was help people. I wanted to help carry the crosses for those who could not. I was meant to protect those who cannot protect themselves…

I'm sorry Dad… Mors… Issei… I tried to fight… but it wasn't enough…

I couldn't even save that woman from becoming a vessel to some monster…

No… I refuse. I can't just leave this world without even leaving my mark! I can't just be worthless! What would people think of me? I still have so much to do!

Come on, get up!

Get up!

GET UP!

As the Demon starts to feast on the leftover remains of the elderly woman's disguise, it hears a rumbling coming from the dumpster. It looks back up, like a bird looking at its next meal.

The metal box shakes for a little bit, the left-side cover eventually lifting up. Out crawls that boy. Oh, he must've underestimated this one. All it took last time was a little bit of force to drain that woman. Must have not been enough to kill that boy. Still... he's bleeding out, even if it's much slower than that of the typical human, and at this rate, he's got at least a minute and a half before he's back on the menu.

I'm not just going to die in the dumpster. If I'm going to die…

Bell steps forward, eyes glowing in red-hot determination. The Leeches soon start to slowly march closer and closer, ready to snuff this light once and for all.

Then at least let me die… a hero!