I walked down a quiet street that night, wearing my green corduroy jacket over my favourite hooded sweatshirt.  There were few people out, it being a Monday night, and none of them were likely to notice such an nondescript youth out for a walk.  It began to rain, the clouded sky opening up in a torrent.  Now there would be even fewer people out tonight.

            I reached the building I was looking for and I pulled up my hood to gain some measure of respite from the rain.  I looked up at it with a rueful smile.  I had returned to the nightclub where I had seen Dan doing a drug deal with the demon, so many months ago.  Things had come full circle.

            The club was closed tonight.  I turned into the alley between it and the next building, leaned against a wall and stared at the building before me.  I stood there and just stared.  Eventually, almost of its own accord, my hand reached into my coat and pulled out my cowboy’s revolver, and I stared at that instead.  I sank to a sitting position, leaning against the wall, contemplating my gun in the rain.

            Thus far, I had defended myself when attacked.  Tonight, I was contemplating bringing the fight to my enemies.  Somehow, that was a line in my mind.  It was easy to justify self-defence, but going looking for trouble bothered me.

            I reminded myself that they were demons.  Monsters posing as human beings.  The Holy Spirit would not allow me to hurt innocents.  I told myself everything I could think of to spur myself to action.  I had been chosen, after all.  I was supposed to be this great warrior.  I was a force for truth and justice.  But it would be so much easier if they’d just come after me, instead.

            “You’re in the wrong part of town, boy.” A voice said.  I looked through falling sheets of rain to see the obligatory dark figure in the cliché trench coat.

            “Do you guys all have the same fashion consultant?” I asked, doing my best Peter Parker impersonation.

            “What?” He asked.

            “Screw it.” I said.  I switched to silent mode and ran towards him.

            He fired his gun several times, at about chest level.  I was smarter than that, having ducked and rolled even as he drew the weapon.  I kicked a garbage can, sending it at his legs, forcing him to move.  Before he could get another blast off, I shot him through the hand.  He dropped his weapon, and turned to me.  No pained shout, no sign of discomfort.  I’d definitely come to the right place.

            I put a bullet in his head at close range, the loud explosion of the pistol echoing in the narrow alley.  His head exploded nicely in chunks of bone and flesh.  I didn’t enjoy seeing it, but I was glad the small cannon in my hand was so effective.  Though the sound bothered me:  I was announcing my presence rather conspicuously.  As a precaution, I drew a second gun from within my coat.

            I didn’t have time to worry about that long.  One of them crashed through a window just above me, landing nimbly in the alley and standing up.  Two more came out a side door of the building.  One appeared at the end of the alley nearest me, presumably coming from the front door.

            “You glow, little warrior.” One of them snarled.  “We hear you coming in the dark.”

            I answered with gunfire.

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