Rain fell upon the realm of man, a relentless downpour that tried once again to wash away the filth of the city. It poured down heavy as rope, its noise swallowing the honking cars, the distant footsteps, and the screams of sirens surrounding the two decapitated bodies spread on the sidewalk like a morbid trophy.
Blood swirled into the sewers with the rushing water, as if the heavens had already forgotten the two unfortunate souls. Just another victim of Hell's work.
The corpses were surrounded by three men in hazmat suits, their white cloaks soaked with rain and blood. Behind their blue and yellow masks, their eyes were indifferent to the horrific scene. They had seen it a thousand times—enough to feel nothing but a deep pity and a small, creeping fear of what was to come.
They worked in perfect, silent coordination, wasting no time to set up a perimeter and erect tents to protect the body parts from the rain. A camera flashed three times in the alleyway. The sound was heavy and final.
One of them took out a walkie-talkie and spoke to a man who sounded like he'd just finished a pack of cigarettes in one go. He could almost smell the ash through the static.
A few minutes later, a car pulled up in front of the alley. A man in a black jacket and cargo pants emerged, his footsteps heavy in army boots, splashing through the rain ponds on the ground. Behind him came another man from the passenger seat of the black Nissan, wearing a long jacket with the same pants and boots. Both approached without hesitation, their eyes bearing the weary look of men who had just been assigned a burden.
The first man stepped under the perimeter tape in a swift motion and produced a police badge from his inside pocket.
-Agent Walt, reporting for duty.
The man behind him mirrored the motion.
Agent Martin, reporting for duty.
The crime analyst, still talking on his walkie-talkie, barely eyed their badges before pointing toward the three tents.
-We've identified five body parts belonging to two individuals. One male, the other unidentified.
-Why?
-Their face is ripped to shreds. The only reason we know it was a head is a half-intact set of teeth in the middle of the mush.
-Eyes?
-The devil probably ate them. We think it started with them."
Martin let out a deep sigh.
-Jesus.
The crime analyst's walkie crackled again, a voice drowned out by the rain. He raised his own voice in anger, muttered to himself, then started yelling.
Walt pressed.
-Is there anything else we need to know?
-What? Oh, yeah, just go look for yourself, will you?
He turned fully back to his walkie.
No, I told you we cannot dispatch our team— Yes, I get it, but we already have a devil attack here! You need to under—... NO! Listen, I can't—
He walked off into one of the tents, still arguing in the same tired voice.
The two men stood in the rain for a moment, stealing a last breath of fresh air.
-What a shitty night for this, Walt. Can't even light a cig.
-Let's just get it over with, Martin. I don't like spending time on devil cases.
Walt walked toward one of the tents, its white fabric stained from within. Martin looked up at the sky and muttered to himself.
-God be with us.
Before following his partner's trail.
****
The loud fan of the police station restroom was the only thing keeping Martin away from Silence's grasp. Sitting alone in this boring room, a cigarette between his fingers, staring blankly at the white walls, whose colors were only enhanced by the pure, bright, white light hanging from the fan, and yet surprisingly the light bulb doesn't rotate with it, why? A question Martin has asked himself every morning of the past 20 years of his life he spent in the special unit. And still, he struggles to find an answer.
He was sitting on a classic plastic chair, surrounded by only a large table by the side of the door, on it a half dead microwave and a struggling coffee machine, the same coffee machine that produced the hot cup now between his left hand's fingers as he exhales smokes of a half finished winston cigarette, ash falling on the white floor.
He waits…
With only that loud silence of the police station restroom.
Until the door opened violently, and from behind it came Walt.
-Yo.
-I've been waiting for half a cig and a shitty machine coffee.
-Like I care.
He grabbed a chair, the same plastic one as his partner. Then sat near Martin, and produced a full camel box from his cargo pants. Martin looked at him with disdain.
-Next coffee is on you.
-Nope. Plus you still owe me that drink.
He put a cigarette in his mouth and asked for fire, Martin took out from his coat a lighter and presented it to his friend.
-I made up for it by saving your life not even an hour later.
Walt took a drag from his cigarette then exhaled before giving the lighter back.
-I'd still prefer a drink over that.
-And that is the attitude of an unmarried man.
-Proud to be one.
-Bet virgin too.
-Now that's a step too far.
-Until proven wrong, I hold my point.
Walt didn't bother to answer, he just chuckled and took another drag. Exhaled, then looked up at the turning, loud, fan. His eyes were holding something of a burden, not that they didn't before, but this one looks particularly annoying. Walt then turned to his friend. Without a word, Martin understood.
-Hunters?
-Hunters.
Martin had a fading look of pity on his face, for who? Only God knows.
-can't we just handle it ourselves, it's always a mess dealing with hunters.
-Yeah well it's a class 3.
-Says who?
-The crime analytics, and the specialists.
-I'm sure they didn't even glance at the file.
-Well this doesn't matter now. There's a devil running loose in the city and no one is feeling heroic enough to kill it other than the two of us and the lunatics that call themselves Hunters.
Walt took a pause, exhaling smoke from his nose. Staring at the ceiling, or rather the mysterious fan in the ceiling. Before continuing in a rather pleased tone.
-Well, the bright side is we're working with Marta.
-Sick, now I'll chase a devil with a dangerous chick watching my back.
-The dark side is… Well there's a rookie.
Martin took a deep drag, his eyes shifting to his signature 'are you serious ?' look. Walt responded with a false confused look.
-Nevermind…Now i'll chase a devil with a chick and a corpse watching my back *sigh* christ almighty.
The two sat there in silence for a few minutes. Both looking up at the light and fan, wondering the same thing.
Until the sergeant came out of the door in a hurried pace.
-Martin, Walt what the fuck are you two doing in the restrooms?
And before any of them could've answered, the sergeant threw a car key to Martin.
-change of plans, you two will go to the Hunters location to lock the file.
-But sir, it's 5 am in the morning…
-Walt do I look like I care? Now hurry your asses before I send you both flying from the window.
And before they knew it, they were both in a black Nissan, in the same cloth they put on this morning, tired as ever, driving to a GPS location where the Hunters are supposed to be.
They rode in silence, Martin was at the wheel looking at the road with a mixture of anger and tiredness, cursing at no one, holding the wheel like it owed him money.
Walt on the other hand, was in the back seat, taking as much sleep as he could before the chaos.
They both arrived at the entrance of a dirty alley where they parked the car. They walked past a pawn shop and a piss smelling wall, before arriving at the front of a dilapidated apartment building.
They entered a lobby made out of broken glass and a dead elevator, at Martin's desperation.
They climbed to the second floor and stopped in front of an old wooden door where the number 13 is marked.
Walt knocked.
Knock
Knock
Knock
-You know her?
-Not as much as you do.
Behind the frail door, someone seemed to get up from a mattress and walk loudly.
-What's that supposed to mean?
-I don't know, you tell me.
The footsteps got louder, until a loud thud and a groan was heard.
-Fuck you man.
-I'm just saying. You're single, she's single. You pretty much have the same jobs.
Silence behind the door, until more, slower, footsteps are heard.
-Yeah so much in common. It's almost like we both made the same stupid life choices.
Martin answered with a laugh. And then the door opened. From behind it a short haired woman answered, she was still in pajamas, her hair a mess. She was reeking of cheese and alcohol, and her eyes were almost open. She was holding herself against the door frame, barely up. From behind her could be seen the nice interior of the apartment, and the mountain of pizza boxes on the open kitchen counter.
-Yeah…Who goes theeeere??
-Agent Walt of the police devil unit.
Walt produced a badge from the inside of his jacket. His face as straight as possible. His partner is doing the same without saying a word.
-We are here for the assigned class 3 devil extermination mission. Although it seems the time is not well chosen.
-Hehehehe…*Hick* Well… Ok…*Hick* I hunt deeeeeevils !!
-We will take our leave and see you tomorrow. Good night to you madam.
-W-wait-
And without further dialogue he closed the door on the Hunter, turned around with Martin, walked down the stairs, got into the car, and bursted out laughing with Martin until their lungs gave out.