Inquisitors; Rulers Of Past

Blunt

"Another beer," Barry demanded. Paul sighed, placing the green bottle before him. Barry gulped it down in one go. He wiped the trickle of beer that run down the sides of his mouth with his arm. "Another!"

"No." Paul said bluntly, "that's one too many."

A guy in a cowboy hat appeared and requested for a whisky. Paul took the finest from his collection and gave it to the cowboy, who left to the back of the bar where is friends were waiting.

"Hey! You gave that guy some."

"Are you drunk?" Paul asked. Barry looked at him and smiled. "C'mon, a guy like me? Please, Paul, I expect better from you."

Paul scratched his white hair and rubbed his eyes. He was too young for this kinda thing. He turned to another who sat at the counter, a regular customer, Johnson was his name...probably. The man Johnson, turned to Paul, then to Barry, then back to Paul. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

"Yeah." Paul sighed. He turned to Barry who had begun rambling about how people never minded their own business and were too nosy, or stuff revolving around that matter. Paul took a deep breath and, gathering a little licht energy in his fist, punched Barry squarely on the face. Barry was knocked off his chair bewildered but sober. He stood up, scratching his head and rubbing the place where he had been hit.

"What the..."

"It's my Licht technique. Fired Up."

Barry stared at him, confused.

"His technique sends minor currents up to your brain, making it more active." Johnson explained to Barry, "It's one of the reasons why no one's ever drunk in this place."

"And you're allowed to use it?" Barry asked Paul as he sat back at the counter.

"No. But everyone wants to drink and get back home at the same time so, who the hell would try to report."

"Really?" Paul said, surprised, "That's the reason?"

"Yeah," Johnson said, "Why?"

"I thought it was because you guys wanted to drink as much as you wanted without getting drunk."

"Yeah... that was also another reason."

Barry smirked. The punch sure was painful but he was active. Sleep and drunkenness seemed far away now.

"Ok Barry, what's going on?"

Barry sighed. "Remember the chick from yesterday?"

"Yeah?"

"Well apparently she works for some new organization that engages in daemon hunting."

"Oh...right."

"Yeah. Just when I thought things were back to normal."

"You're an inquisitor?" Johnson asked. Barry hesitated for a while, before he nodded.

"I was,"

"Wasn't worth it huh?"

"Something like that."

"What was the name of this organization?" Paul asked

"The Foundation, or something like that." Barry replied.

"Oh, I've heard of them." Johnson said, "They don't like the way Shield runs its operations. Says that it's a big scam."

"They're not wrong." Paul said.

"Yeah, but I still ain't interested." Barry said bluntly.

Paul looked at him with a wry look on his face. He sighed and poured another guy a glass of beer, before turning back to his poor depressed customer.

"This still about what happened eight months ago?" Paul asked. Barry didn't reply. Johnson emptied his bottle and signaled for another. This conversation was going to be long and interesting for him.

"Still dream about it y'know. It kinda haunts me. Can't sleep, can't even think sometimes without... well that incident popping up in my head."

"But if you wanted to really leave it all behind, why did you take the spear with you?"

Barry clasped his hands together, his eyes concentrated towards the counter. "It's for a friend...or more like a brother. Sometimes I just wanna throw it so far away that no one can find it. But then I ... just can't let it go. It's kinda like my chain."

"This guy, he's... dead, right."

Barry looked at Johnson and back at the table. "The guy died trying to protect me, dude. That even makes the whole thing worse."

"Damn." Johnson muttered, "Sorry, man."

"But then, you know it's still going to haunt you forever, right?" Paul said. Barry looked up at him. A woman came to the counter and ordered a strong drink. Paul excused himself for a while to attend to his customer. He returned shortly after.

"The longer you run from the decision as to whether to remain an inquisitor or live a longer life, the longer the nightmares are going to hit, Barry. And then it'll take more than just beer to hide them."

"I've already made up my mind, Paul. I ain't going back.

"The spear says otherwise, Barry. And so are your recent activities. They contradict your said intentions, Barry."

"So what would you have me do, huh?" Barry asked, his voice raised, "go back to being a damned inquisitor? Do you have any idea what that kind of life is like?"

"The hell would I know?" Paul responded. "I'm just a bartender. And I hope to remain that way till the day I die if it means I don't end up like you." Paul took a deep breath. "But the fact that you are even asking for my opinion tells me how far you've fallen. A guy like you? Who can look in the eye of daemon without even an ounce of fear, asking for my opinion? That's very low, man."

Barry didn't say a word. He muttered under his breath before getting up to leave, dropping the cash on the table. He muttered an inaudible 'later' and left for home.

"Um...," Johnson said, "Don't you think that's harsh?"

"I was holding back." Paul said, "And besides, he needed to hear that."

"But, c'mon. The guy has seen crap that no one in this room and possibly handle."

"Yeah. But I'm also not gonna be the guy who watches him as he falls down into the well of despair. Daemon hunter or not, he's gotta choose. Besides, I don't want to lose a cherished customer."

"He might not come back."

"Then who's gonna offer him a free beer?"

Johnson couldn't help but smile.

Barry walked into his room. He collapsed on his bed, anger welling up in him. Deep down Paul was right. And this wasn't the first time he'd said something like that to him. He closed his but opened them almost immediately. He sat up on the bed, his eyes on the floor. Slowly, he exited his room and towards the door. Grabbing the spear, he left his room. He made his mind. He was going to bury it all. Inquisitors were a thing of the past now. He passed by the receptionist who merely glanced at him. Well, so had everyone else who he had passed by. Inquisitors were treated with some form of respect. At least on the surface. He walked out of the building into the cold night. Winter was almost one its way, the trees alone said it all. He walked down the sidewalk, not looking at the unfamiliar faces that watched him from shops and alleyways. He crossed the road. And made a left. He was going to drop it in a nearby river. Whoever found it, whatever became of it, he couldn't care less.

"Barry?"

Barry stopped in his tracks. That voice. It sounded all too familiar. He turned around but didn't see anyone.

"I'm right in front of you, dumbass." Barry turned only to receive a flick to the forehead. He looked at who it was and almost exclaimed. The girl was a fellow inquisitor. She was tall. Taller than him and very well endowed. She had long silver hair and lazy green eyes. She wore a black tank top and tight black jeans with white designer shoes. But then the scythe strapped to her back was enough to make anyone stay away from her.

"Sakura, what are you doing here?"

Sakura smiled, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"