Tonight the lights of several cities were punctuated with the jubilant screams of party- goers and barely legal teens who had snuck out of their homes. Alcohol was flowing and the party never ended. Everything was good and, for many, very lucky. Alleyways found hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of people using them for varying activities. Drug deals, sexual pursuits, theft... The activities were abundant and numerous.
Unfortunately for these Americans this constructed world of liquor and great vibes came crashing down as blood, fire and brimstone infested every single block. 911 calls were made in the vain hope that help would come for them. All attempts to survive were doomed to fail however as blood-lathered entities pierced through their bodies and limbs with an infernal hatred. Beady infernos clung to the sockets, that usually would have held eyes, of these creatures.
Organs, bone, blood, muscle and every other form of sinew was strung out through several blocks. Like confetti, eyes were arranged around the various streets and alleyways whilst urinary tracts and intestines stretched themselves like string above the blood soaked bitumen. If one were to give an apt description to the sheer barbarity shown it would simply be called hell.
It was in this state that Tony Stark found a large segment of New York in such a state of desecration. His force-empowered suit's metallic boots sticking to the roadway as he landed; the viscera attempting to cling to him. The sight caused bile to crawl up his throat and gurgle in his stomach, the face plate of his suit moving up to allow him to vomit. Instantly the smell reached him and ensured the success of his expulsion.
"What the fuck...!?"
...
Austin Texas faced a similar fate as New York as an entire suburb was ritually sacrificed to whatever monsters attacked. A pattern that most would consider a simple pentagram glowed ominously with hundreds of runes, the blood of the innocent transferring the ritual some form of power.
It was amidst this horror that the sorceress supreme of Earth emerged. Monk robes fluttered in the wind whilst the stench of death and iron permeated the atmosphere for miles. Moonlight lightly dappled off her bald head, emerald eyes eerily peering down from the top of a two story house at the power transferal ritual below.
"A Mephistopheles' based ritual... Perhaps a resurrection ritual?"
Imps phased into existence below as she pondered the nature of the magic. Little batwings hefted them upwards as they held small vials of blood or crystal, it was impossible to tell. She narrowed her eyes at the little creatures.
Electrical explosions sundered through the air between her and the creatures, the air itself igniting upon her mild request. In an instant the minor demonic servants were purged from the material plane. Their belongings incinerated alongside them within moments as hundreds more portals opened behind her.
"Ancient One, we await your command."
A slight incline of her lips was all she showed of her emotions as she turned to the masters of the mystical arts behind her.
"Purge all of the demons. Cleanse the ritual circles. Half of you break off towards New York. Mordo, I want you to hunt down whatever cult has done this."
Portals were made and faded in instants as her fellow sorcerers rushed off to follower her orders. Mordo nodded respectfully before hurriedly pulling upon the space between spaces to conjure a portal, his sling ring joining the two spaces as if they were sheets of paper. In but a moment he disappeared too.
The Ancient One turned back to the scene below, watching her forces destroy the abomination below. Her face was placid as she watched a pentagram be cut through with a glass blade conjured from the realm of the Vishanti.
'All of the pieces are slowly coming together... Though the greater play has yet to be ordained or constructed.' A cup of Himalayan tea abruptly appeared in her hand, her lips already meeting the lip and sipping at the drink within.
'Of mortals and immortals... heh.' A small smirk flared on her face before returning to its emotionless state.
...
Yuna Bragisdottir, wife of Freya Bragisdottir, slayer of demons, sat around a campfire as the X-Men and their students all listened to Logan share stories of his service in World War Two. Captain America was mentioned more than once, always amongst stories of the howling commandos and the varying supernatural threats that they had faced.
She was half way through eating her marshmallow when the hairs on her neck flared painfully, small scars from her time hunting demons aching and hissing as if exposed to open flame. Peter was standing before she had even drawn her pistols, his eyes darting around just as the smell of brimstone suffused everything around them.
"Then we tore through a panzer group like it was butt- W-What the fuck is that?" Logan, known as Wolverine, stood just as Yuna started aiming her pistols at the glowing orange portal behind her.
The rest of the X-Men were on their feet soon after, her guns already smoking as divine righteousness hammered into infernal flesh, demonic screams following. Rose-gold light lingered around her eyes and guns as hundreds of spectral bullets perforated the air and stabbed into her foe. They weren't idle however as middling demons and imps sprinted into the crowd of powered people, many of them dying within seconds of contact.
Fast paced melees broke out with Wolverine shredding into a demon whilst Yuna quickly stretched her fingers into multiple different symbols which she then blew through. Bright purple-black plasma engulfed the portal. Hisses and screeches cascaded into the clearing as the animals that had once filled the forest surrounding them filled once more. Orange magic battled purple flames and lost woefully as it puttered out of existence. Pulling her hands apart she watched as the remaining demons were exorcised from this mortal coil and the other powerful people all began settling down after battle.
"What was that, Peter, Yuna, Logan?"
Logan grimaced. "Don't look at me bub, I ain't got no clue what those things were."
Scott's visor panned to Peter who simply shrugged whilst dropping himself onto a log nearby Luna, his girlfriend.
"Demons." Yuna murmured.
Everyone did a double-take at her statement before going back to their positions, all of their eyes tracking her with expectations. And thus, for the next few hours, she regaled them on the existence of demons and her former 'super-heroing' in Sydney Australia.
...
Mephistopheles, otherwise known as Mephisto, sat inside his true seat of power idly tapping away on his throne as his servants informed him of another failed incursion. The little demon was sweating bullets inside his own fear, a truly delectable meal for the arch-demon.
It stuttered out the rest of its report like a little weasel before his tapping ceased and he growled. His summoning ritual was being cut and foiled this very moment by hundreds of sorcerers. The ancient witch of Earth was sashaying his concentrated sacrifices across the globe and spreading the magic thin. It was so thin now that he couldn't hope to be summoned to Earth physically for the next one hundred years. All of his forces and influence within that particular universe had been expent in that last Hail Mary. The growl picked up with his anger, the entire home-plane of Mephisto trembling in his rage.
"I'll fucking gut you, you ancient bitch! AND THAT FUCKING UPSTART AS WELL!"
His castle shook from their foundations whilst new lava added onto the ancient fortification.
...
In the heart of Japan, sequestered away in a separate dimension, hundreds of robed figures fell to their deaths. Their bodies painted the mountainside as an equivalent amount of hearts floated in mid-air, where they once stood.
"This sacrifice shall herald a new dawn for those of the hand. Today we shed our mortal coils and embrace power!" The last remaining 'priest', dressed in traditional Japanese kimono, declared to nothing in particular.
His words must have had an effect to something however as all of the offered hearts exploded into bloody mist before concentrating into a condensed ball of gore. It floated in mid-air harmlessly. The ball looked almost mundane and peaceful as it hung there. That feeling didn't last for long either as a slurping noise grated over the priest's ears and through any of those listening. Moments passed with this disgusting vorpal noise, the grass under the priest's feet slowly decaying, before in place of the bloody ball was a twelve-foot tall demon with the face of a jackal and the body of numerous species merged together. The look of the creature could best be explained as some failed experiment upon a child's corpse and varying species of animals, both magical and non-magical. To say it was disgusting or horrible was an understatement.
"Praise be Baphomet!" The priest kneeled before this vision of hell, his knees crunching the dead grass below.
"Blessed be his followers." The demon spoke and thus did the priest subsume himself into its' yoke.
...
Gotham was, violent, to put it lightly. But this level of violence had rarely been seen or expressed in such ways.
A man wearing clown make-up was hanging from a stripper pole as he opened fire into a crowd of innocents, the truck below him slamming into many cars as it made its mad dash towards the central police bureau.
Helicopters filmed the entire slaughter as the clown-man cackled maniacally at the fleeing sheep around him. His eyes were glowing with glee and excitement as his lackies, dressed in a multitude of differing outfits and children's toys, fired out at the police cars they could see and any hero-looking person.
"HA-HAHAHA-HAHA! Come out, come out, BATSY!" The clown dropped his pistol and flung his hand out at a SWAT car. A glittering darkness emanated from his clawing hand as the road below was shredded into shrapnel and debris. The car soon followed the road in its demise, blood and death joining soon after as an entire SWAT team was eviscerated.
"Joker has some fun to give you tonight! HAAHAHAAAHAAAH!"
Screams followed in his wake as the mare requested the national guard's aid to stop the madman. Batman wasn't far behind that call as the tires of his Batmobile screeched across the roads of Gotham, sometimes changing to a metallic cracking as it gripped onto buildings sideways.
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