Deep in the dark places where no one cares to look, Warren felt like he belonged with the Laughing skulls. The roar of the engines and the camaraderie poke at his need to be accepted by other humans. He knew better, of course. The Laughing Skulls lived to spread their message of hate, and it made the teen sick to his stomach.
Yale town had all the trappings of the modern world, skyscrapers, and Noveau architecture. Art galleries and quaint coffee shops. It was also the home to many warehouses. Warren expected their stop to be at a warehouse. However, the pack of riders slowed their mechanical steeds just outside the Yale Hotel.
The black and red brick, with bright neon signs on the outside, seemed larger than life to Warren as he slowed the street bike and parked it on the opposite side of the street.
"Warren, it's Theria. do you copy?" Concern owned the disembodied voice of Theria.
"I'm here. I can't talk for long. Zealot will be
Yeah I had fun with this. I was a big Ghost Rider fan growing up until I realized he was just a really cool drawing without character. Still the idea of an enchanted motorcycle is awesome
The mixed and matched eyes of the Gigas were devoid of emotion or intelligence. The long hair streaked with lightning bolts of white framed her face and hid the small bolts in her neck. In her hand, a long chain with a spiked ball. The links rattled together and dared warren to make a move. Gunfire echoed through the building. The gigas looked away to find the source of the noise. Warren capitalized on the opening and charged with the eidolon aura at maximum capacity. The mental timer flashed twelve minutes. A door burst open, and a horned man dressed in red tumbled into the hall, "You stupid hunk of flesh, you were supposed to be watching the door, not the bikes..." The glowing eyes focused on Warren as he drove a spectral pistol blade into the gigas and cracked off a shot. The gigas grunted and batted Warren away. Warren's hands reached behind him while he fell. He felt the rough carpet on his hands and pushed upward. He rolled bac
Screams and shouts from the Philanthropists and Socialites echoed through the night sky as the impish Bokken Riders landed on the roof of the Harrison Galleries. Tires screech, rubber burned as the magical bikers crashed the party. "Shit," Warren revved his engine and pushed his bike a little faster, "Please tell me you've called the calvary." Warren groaned. His ride went airborne and crashed into the roof of the Harrison Galleries himself. "Yeah, they are about five minutes out. Sorry kid, it's the best they can do," Graves replied with a hint of worry in his voice. "Keep the light on them. I'm going after Bokken Riders. There are too many innocent people here," He raced through the crowd and felt the warmth of the dream catcher in his pants pocket. "Radio Grace and tell her we have a chosen among the people here." "What does that mean?" Graves asked in a confused tone. "It's for another problem we are dealing with on the
The news crews ate up what happened at the Harrison Galleries. Warren found himself thrust in front of the media frenzy with Vasilia on his arm. None of which sat well with the teen. The female gigas escaped and took to the streets. It bothered Warren, as all unfinished business does. Vasilia loved the cameras and spoke for both of them. Her smile provoked ooh, and ahh's from the journalistic masses, "Look at him, he was born to be a star. I saw that the moment I met him. Not only is he attractive, but beneath his hardened body is a hero's heart." The Flashes from the cameras annoyed Archon to no end, and Warren found it hard to disagree. A horde of microphones almost knocked his teeth out. Warren was no stranger to the media and cleared his throat. "Tonight was possible because the crew of the Scald Crow and the Vancouver police worked together. Without them, victory would've escaped my grasp." The pendant from Hope's necklace warmed his pocket, "Archon, we
Mole Hill Vancouver. A place where the forgotten and underpaid gather because other parts of the city strain the minimum wage wallets. On the surface, the refurbished houses and fresh-cut lawns make it look ideal to the prospective family, at least until one looks at the crime stats. Warren felt a twinge of discomfort when it came to Mateo because the pendant continued to glow in his presence. How do you explain to a young man, he needs to turn into a tree to keep an evil witch from taking over? The question tumbled against Warren's mind as Theria guided the old Ford Thunderbird into the neighborhood. "This is thing is a boat and a half," Warren remarked. "Well, you didn't want to take the fancy police cruiser. The locals didn't have anything else in the impound. I kind of like it, to be honest." "It's a better choice than the police cruiser," Mateo poked his head into the front, "The car looks similar to the tricked-out rides of the local grease monk
Warren and Theria bid their farewells to the Tovar family, who thanked them in earnest. Theria embraced Lucinda Tovar, "We will not stop until we put El Silbon down." Guilt welled up inside of Warren as the heat from the necklace warmed his thigh. He decided to talk to Theria about his moral dilemma once they left the Tovar residence. Once they were in the Old Thunderbird, Warren hit the dash with his hand, "I can't tell them about the Cathedral of trees. Those two are all they have in this world. I know how it feels to lose someone that close." A soft smile and a hand laced with comfort touched him, and Theria said, "We will talk to them after we have dealt with the problem at hand," In the meantime, we have to find a likely place where drunks and lechers hang out." Warren instantly knew where they could find both, "I know what we are looking for, but you aren't going to like it." Theria narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, her face frozen
Warren hated to lose. He understood such things happen from time to time. They chose the right location and responded when El Silbon showed up, yet the spectral killer still got away. They missed something in their plan, and Warren grew determined to figure out what. "It could've happened to anyone," Theria said as she took his hand. Warren fought the instinct to bat the hand away. "I know, but this time success mattered. We spared a couple of lowlives a terrible fate, but that doesn't mean El Silbon's next victims won't be innocent." He smacked the table in frustration, "We missed something, and I can't put my finger on it." Theria moved closer, "I am sure we can come up with a solution." Herne walked in and shook his head, "Those damn Bokken Riders are tough nuts to crack. I don't know who hired them and what they offered, but those imps have locks on their jaws," He took off the stag helm and took a seat next to Theria, "You two look sadder than a
The Big Chief Bar and Grill turned out to be more offensive than the Laughing skulls. Moans of pleasure came from the alley, and the sign itself an affront to First Nations everywhere, a drunk chief holding a bottle of whiskey. Aurelia stifled a giggle, "Well, there is something you don't see every day." Warren frowned, "I don't think it's funny at all. It makes me sad we are still undermining good people who have suffered greatly." He heaved a sigh, "Let's finish the mission. I have an unpleasant conversation ahead of me. I don't know how long I will be able to stomach the place." Herne radioed from the nearby alley, "Can I keep a couple of these mutts? I think more than one would make for an excellent Gabriel hound." "No dogs in my Scald crow, They smell and poop everywhere," Theria practically screamed into the microphone. "How about a small one?" Herne's voice pleaded Theria threw her hands up in the air and growled,
A dubious plan is about to be executed on the streets of Vancouver. Hot on the trail of an angry spirit known as El Silbon, Warren and his two cohorts have resorted to a bartender as bait for the phantom. Herne, the hunter, waited in a nearby alley with a large group of dogs, the only thing El Silbon feared. Theria hid on the roof, prepared to use her best divine spells to help restrict the entity's movement. Everything was in place. Warren wanted El Silbon more than the nameless female gigas. He didn't understand why this spirit bothered him so much. The plan depended on El Silbon being unable to find any victims in the area. Part of Warren hoped the spirit stayed away from the dingy. The other half wanted another shot at taking him done." Two hours passed, and Max started to sober up, "More liquor," he shouted loud enough to echo off the stone buildings nearby. He adjusted the leather vest, "Are you sure this thing will find us?" Max slurred. "The p