Template:Featured Articles/3-2023
 "Someone must have slipped me something." he said, still taking hefty swallows of his coffee and heedless of the temperature of the liquid. "But before we get too much deeper into this, I'm gonna need you to prove to me you're not a demon." he said, his free hand inching towards his Sat Night Special. "On the off chance that someone didn't slip me something and the shit I was seeing was real." "What would prove that I'm not?" she asked, turning to face him. "I can say I'm not, but I s'pose that's what a demon would say." "Demons I know can't abide anything pure." he noted, taking another gulp of coffee and being almost down to the dregs. "They corrupt and despoil. Christian demons can't abide symbols of faith." he said. "So guess it depends on what you believe. I'd hate to accidentally shoot someone that's not a demon but I don't play on that side of the street." His migraine, which had been fading, surged to the fore and Forge grunted as his stomach soured and his vision blurred. Shoot? Amanda mentally kicked herself as she realised Forge was armed. She'd figured with the mansion's rules about weapons being locked up in personal gun safes when on site would have covered that, but of course a paranoid former Army bloke would be packing. She held out her hands, all the while mentally preparing a spell. Good thing she'd recharged recently. "Hey, I'm not exactly pure, but I'm not demonic, promise. I'm one of the good guys. I fight demons - that's why I'm here. To help you with the Adversary." And that was the final straw. The Adversary was the enemy of his people. They were the watchers at the gate, the protectors of the People. And this colonizer was going to tell him how they should deal with his corrupt evil? Nope. Last straw. Out came the gun, but his eyesight was absolute shit due to the pounding in his head and, in his pain and grogginess, he'd neglected to make sure said gun was _loaded_ before he pulled the trigger. Click. Followed by a double thump - one organic, one not - as his knees hit the floor and his stomach rebelled. He kept his coffee down but it was a near thing indeed. Then a softer thump as the gun hit the ground as well. Amanda watched from the safety of her shielding spell as Forge went down. She'd figured her words would spark a reaction of some sort, so she'd had the spell ready as soon as she stopped speaking. Now she dismissed it and moved towards Forge, kicking the gun away from his reach and putting a supporting arm around his shoulders. If he threw her off, fine, but she wasn't about to let him fall face first on the floor. "Sorry about that," she said quietly as she patted his back. "You need help, Forge. Magical help. If you let me, I can help you with it." Her touch felt strange to him - sparkly, almost like asphalt and concrete and glass. He managed to get to his feet mostly by using his good leg to do most of the work then getting the artificial one locked out to support him. "I do not need magical help." he growled. "What do you think you're going to do, bippity boppity the horrors away?" |
