the demon and the gunslinger fight

Reem’s mind tortured her by replaying that bizarre exchange over and over again. Could the demon just… have been… bored? She’d never really talked to his kind that much. Most of them just kind of kept to themselves. Something something apex predators energy pyramid.

…which made it all the more baffling that he would’ve spoken to her? Of all people?

Should she have said hi?

Would he show up again?

When was the last time she’d had a real conversation with anyone?

***

The boy in black ripped the job offer off the bulletin board as soon as he showed up the next evening. Before Reem had time to condescendingly pity him, he plastered a new one. Job offer 2.0 had a ransom attached to it—or a payment? Regardless, for that amount, and that target, the jaded adults showing up would just laugh more.

...and laugh they did.

Some even brought friends. Such was the clientele tonight that the boss asked Reem to give the boy in black choccy milk on the house. Again, he was reading. Perhaps he frowned under that hood. Perhaps he grimaced. Reem drew a smiley face with chocolate sauce on the whipped cream. “Hi,” she said as she served him the drink.

The boy in black took it. “You reek of demon.”

This was the second night in a row someone told Reem she stank. This was how terrorists got started. “Y-you too,” she blurted out.

“Oh yeah? And how would you be able to tell?”

‘By cleaning really hard’. She would’ve said that, but to lower herself to a teenager’s level would a rock bottom among rock bottoms. She knew those very well. “You’re welcome,” she told him instead. “It’s on the house.”

“What.”

“Local slang for ‘you’re getting a free drink you ingrate little shit’.” Reem then went to clean somebody’s puke.

Hours later, so deep into the night that all the over taverns had closed, a gunslinger dressed in the most stereotypical way possible—hat, trenchcoat, and boots, all dragon leather—stood before the bulletin board. Fortunately, he began to smoke, which gave Reem an excuse to talk to him. “Hi,” she said upon approaching him.

“Good evening.” The gunslinger didn’t take his eyes off the offer.

“Hi. Hello. Good evening. This is a smoke-free establishment.”

“Ah. Forgive me.” Upon shaking the cigarette so it’d fizzle off, he asked, nudging his head at the bulletin board, “Have there been any takers?”

“No… but, um. There’s been interest.” Why was she lying on that little snot’s behalf? Come to think of it, why had she just kind of automatically assumed his man was strong? Because of the corny outfit? The way his attitude allowed him to pull it off? “If you want to inquire more on the subject, the kid, uh, the guy who posted that is inside.”

The gunslinger glanced at her for a moment. His eyes almost matched the shade of his hair, and were dim—too dim; he was cursed. “…I see. Thanks for that information. However, the main reason why I’m here is another.” He probably expected her to prompt him to proceed. Reem didn’t because she was stupid and evil. He continued anyway: “It seems like the local demon lord was one of the chosen.”

“The… wuh?”

“For the night of the black moon.”

“Ahh…” Reem trailed off. “I’ve heard that, yeah. I dunno. They’re saying it won’t happen this time. Besides, aren’t the chosen usually really strong or something? Why would a nobody demon lord with a nothing territory in the middle of nowhere be one of the candidates? Besides, chosen by who? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” lied the gunslinger. “I don’t know who or what chooses demons to be evil. Nobody does.”

The last night of the black moon had been almost two centuries ago. Almost one-third of the continent fell before they could take down the one chosen…? To destroy the world. Reem hadn’t been taught much about the subject in school. As far as she was aware, only the strongest demons got the mark before one of them awakened and became a mindless killing machine of cataclysmic proportions. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ve come a long way since then as a society. Lots of treaties and stuff. And about the local lord… ehh… I wouldn’t worry too much. If he was really that strong, then he’d be conquering other territories and stuff. But he isn’t doing that, so. Hey, what is wrong?”

The gunslinger’s pistol materialized into his hand, first as a dark puff of smoke, then as a weapon. He aimed at nothing Reem could see, opposite to her, to the dark, empty streets.

She hid behind the gunslinger. “W-what is it? Demon? Are you a hunter? But like, a legal one?”

Silence. Fortunately, no clients were loitering around, or else she would’ve had to herd drunkards back into safety.

“Show yourself,” the gunslinger told the darkness. “Your kind isn’t known for its cowardice.”

This gunslinger had to be even stronger than Reem thought if he could taunt a demon so casually, let alone one mighty enough to roam about in someone else’s land. While demon dominions were a thing of the past, they still had unofficial ‘territories’ among themselves. Many of them fought and died to expand them. The local one did not. Probably because he was weak. Which explained why a second one had showed up right now, and… yesterday?

The gunslinger shot the darkness, then cursed under his breath. “Go back,” he told Reem. “Don’t let anyone out.”

Never mind. That made no sense. The one the gunslinger attacked was not a stray demon, but the local lord, who now hid in the darkness, and was probably the very same entity Reem had spoken with yesterday.

Crazy. Crazy how that made more sense.

Why HER?

The gunslinger shot at the darkness again. Again. "Nobody demon lord’ my ass,” he mumbled. “Go back. I’ll place a seal on the tavern. Hurry. Don’t let him see.”

Him? Who?

“Watch out!”

As something lunged at her, Reem squeaked, cowering. The gunslinger parried the demon’s claws with his pistol before standing in front of her, like a shield. Because of this, she couldn’t see the mystery attacker. Not that she needed or wanted to.

“Knew it,” the gunslinger said, aiming at the demon. “You have the mark.”

Demons, lords or otherwise, always left a faint, eerie echo behind their words. If the horns, pointed ears, fangs, or claws weren’t enough of a giveaway, their voice would always be. That was how Reem had figured out his identity yesterday, just not… the part about being a lord. The demon replied, “I do. Please be advised that the price for a duel is a limb. I’ll take your left leg.”

The gunslinger said nothing. He stepped back, bumping into Reem. “Wait, why are you still—” Yet he couldn’t finish reproaching her, for he blocked another strike. This one made him stagger. By that point, onlookers poured from doors, windows, and the cracks next to doors and windows, boy in black included. He stood next to his table, watching… what, exactly? Who, exactly?

The gunslinger seized Reem, then rolled to the side, just in time to avoid the demon’s claws, then… the world darkened.

No, stopped.

Both?

The gunslinger’s hair and eyes were sky blue no more, but gray, as was the dirt below, the door to the tavern, the foliage at the distance, and the moon. Reem, however, still wore her usual colors.

Nothing moved. A silence rivaling that of the night’s darkest hours had taken over.

Something loomed over her.

The gunslinger, frozen in place, still held her, but Reem managed to wiggle off his grasp. Wobbling, she stood, arms extended, then shut her eyes. “Stop it!” She told the demon. “I’m not sure what you did, but you should stop, or… or… which limb do you want?”

There was a pause. A claw lifted her chin, turned it to one side, then the other. “Open your eyes,” the demon said.

“Nope.”

“Then I shall kill everyone present.”

What was this guy’s deal? “Fffhh… hhh…” It was hard to talk since he kept squeezing and un-squeezing her cheeks. “…shtop…”

He stopped. “Do me a favor,” he said, “And I shall do your bidding in return.”

Reem opened her eyes to a midnight purple cloak and a flash of platinum blond. She couldn’t look up. “I mean… I… so then no one will die?”

“Not by my hand.”

“Fine—wah!” Now he seized her. This was the only kind of male attention she got. This was her life now. As though she were a sack of potatoes, as the world regained color and motion, the demon lord slung her over his shoulder.

The demon told the gunslinger, “See you at my castle.”

He jumped so high and so quickly that Reem lost all the air in her lungs. Or it could’ve been her screaming.