Slayer In A Pocket (Big/tiny Trope)

1

I looked at the pentagram painted in blood. Nothing was left of the old concrete structure 'my' cult was sitting in but a few rusty metal rods sticking out of rock slabs, the cracked concrete floor of the once-building, and a graffitied, broken wall. Everywhere you looked, trees.

We were in the woods, just me and a satanic cult, kneeling before a blood-painted summoning circle.

But this was what I did. The pentagram on my neck, the edgy outfit...I was not a satanist. I was undercover.

Knives in my boots, A cross on my chest, my water bottle filled with holy water. I was a demon slayer, and I was about to slay again.

I looked on with the false rapture and awe of a newb, having just discovered our lord and savior lucifer. They chanted. And when the red light appeared, my smile was not faked.

The body solidified, horns on its head, eyes like a goat and red, face pale and smile insipid, as if it was bored of idiot satanist children doomed to burn in hell and unworthy of its attention. It was clothed in black, and as it turned full circle to look at all of its spectors, I saw the back of its shirt was ripped.

Sticking out of the rips were two raw, infected, rancid looking bone nubs, like the fallen angel's wings had been ripped off and the wounds refused to be cautarized by hellfire, and couldn't heal.

I could see the angel in its features, its carriage, but it was false. Behind the worshipable facade was the cowardly devil, the evil, wretched waste of God's creative talent that it had become.

As if hearing my thoughts, it turned to me, and smiled a slow, conspiratorial smile. To all its fawning children, it said "Give me her and I will grant any wishes you ask for." I'd been lost in my thoughts, and I blinked, scrambling to my feet. My blonde hair fell around my face as I went for my gun.

Some were still raining praise on the trapped demon, while others turned to me, with hungry eyes.

"Leave, or i'll kill you all." I said firmly. "I am protected by the church and can leave all of your bodies in my wake and i'd be thanked for it." More like i'd be ostracized, but they didn't have to know that. I backed away, gun poised.

One shot usually dispersed the cowards. I only had to shoot one. I picked the most annoying, which was by far Levi, who often rolled his eyes back in his head and chanted nonsensically.

"If you will not heed my warning, I will not feel guilt for making you corpses. May God have mercy on you all!" And I lifted my gun, aimed, and shot Levi right in the right shoulder.

He screamed, and fell, and as they all looked at him, seeing i'd actually shot him, they ran. A few went to help him, and they took off into the woods, some screaming, others cursing.

But I was quickly alone with a demon. And it was still smiling. "Oh well. It isn't as if those imbecils are ever useful anyway. I'll have to fetch you myself." It cocked its head. "I take it you will not be letting me go back to hell?"

I throw my gun away, useless against a demon. It knew I was going to break the circle so I could kill it, and it thought it'd come out victorious.

"You ought to thank me, really," I said. "This is a mercy. Hell is an exile." It snarled at me.

"I am Bryaxis. Tell your God I killed you when you see him. Tell him you died begging like a coward. Tell him you died cying for him to save you, but he was indifferent to your tears."

I arched an eyebrow. "You underestimate my bravery." He smiled again. "And you underestimate my ability to deal out pain."

I clicked my tongue, ripping the pentagram off my neck, unveiling the cross. The only thing left to do was to break the circle.