you're the baddest

"What about all the people from up here who are so against government, or any formed communal consciousness? I mean, they can’t be happy about having to integrate with the people they fought their whole lives against."

Clark began to pace around the small alley slowly. He began to wonder why this girl had so many questions in the first place or why they were so important she'd kick a demon in the balls for the answers.

"Do you choose the bloodied and beaten ones because it’s easier to get their clothes off?" she teased, and though she was obviously joking she chose not to smile. She’d done enough smiling for this guy, she didn’t need him thinking she was some softy.

"You've got me all figured out," He winked at her and smirked a little, "No, I don't usually get the chance to see lots of hot girls covered in blood. I also wasn't trying to insinuate anything by saying that, for the record. I try not to be that guy." He began to lead her out the door. The cashier continued to pay no attention to them. As they left, Clark looked back and used his shadows to knock down a pile of candy near the front of the store. The cashier looked up in horror to see candy and blood smears everywhere, and Clark chuckled to himself.

"Ruled? Shouldn’t death be freeing?"

She paused, looking at him stupidly for a second before the rest of his words registered in her mind. “Oh! uh…I can move to your apartment now, but it’d be best to make sure these wounds don’t open up again.” she told him, brushing a strang of hair from her face like somehow that was in the way of her ravaging good looks. Not the scars, scratches, and streaks of blood.

He picked up the first aid kit and told her, "Okay, I can help you walk there if you want, but it's not real far. When we get there I'll try and sew your skin back together." He smiled thinly and shrugged, heading towards the door. "I might have something for you to wear if you want to get out of the torn and blood soaked outfits you've got going on?"

[What poetry you have sent me, Artie. You’re really nice when you’re wasted. I was sure dickcheese was going to be my new nickname, but instead I get a compliment. Charming.]

[i dont think im dr                   unk a lot youll have to ask someeeeeeeeeone whos around me alt. and yeah im totall cool with going drinking with a demon. sounds good to me dickcheese]

[It's not exactly safe to drink with a demon but you don't play by the rules so it wouldn't matter anyway, right?]

[What poetry you have sent me, Artie. You’re really nice when you’re wasted. I was sure dickcheese was going to be my new nickname, but instead I get a compliment. Charming.]

[his name is walker and he s a litleeeeee bitch. i thoght about ca lling him bitchbaby but hen i was like nahhhhhhhhhhh he likes to punch things and hes kindof a dICK SO I CALLed him dickpunch. hes totalLY GOT  a thing for my best friend hes so gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.]

[That's cute. So are you normally this drunk or is this just a special little gift for me to sit back and watch? Because if its the former, we need to go drinking together, my friend.]

"Y’know I never caught your name. I can’t call you "Satan’s BFF" forever."

Clark moved to stand up and held out his hand to help her stand. "So are you good now actually? Or should I still try to sew you up or something?"

"Is that all real?"

"It's just one place," He informed her. "Just the Underworld. Like in greek legends. Ruled by Hades, infested with the undead and the like. It's not the worst place ever if you're a decent person."

[What poetry you have sent me, Artie. You’re really nice when you’re wasted. I was sure dickcheese was going to be my new nickname, but instead I get a compliment. Charming.]

[it could be ur nickname if u want it toobe. if u want a nother one uuuuuuuuu have ur choices of bitchbaby, shitdick, fucknut. i wud give u dickpunch but sadlyy that ones alREADY TAKEN.]

[Shitdick sounds pretty nice actually. It implies a lot. Who do you call dickpunch because I feel bad for them?]

"It’s really such a shame more people will never have the experience of being called devil-spawn." 

"It's not everyday you meet hot girls with super powers in the woods," the corner of his mouth curled in a smile. "And that is a true shame."

In the next couple moments, the blood cells that Clark had graciously given Avey were on their way through the small cut. They forced their way inward, hurting just as bad as if they were flowing outward. Some of it hit her face, failing to make it through such a small opening, and it felt like blood was rushing to her head. She supposed it was because, technically, it was. Suddenly the woman was aware of what a freak she looked like, despite the man in front of her having the same manipulative abilities.

"Where'd you learn to manipulate blood like that? I thought you were just some regular human," Clark waited until she was done before he placed a bandage over his own cut, and then slid his jacket on. He decided not to look at her out of fear he'd do something stupid like blush or maybe stare at her for too long, so instead he tried to clean up the mess they had made in the aisle. 

"It’ll move things along." Plus she had a strange love for blood, inherent with the mutation she supposed. Not that a demon ever needed to be privileged to that information.

"I guess you could say that, though I can’t tell you anything else just in case. You are a demon after all. Who knows what you’ll do with any information I give you? You might give it some of your demon friends and get them to kill me off or something." She smirked and brushed some hair that was falling out of her ponytail behind her ear.

He folded his arms across his chest and smirked, saying, "Regardless, I won't kill you, and I won't send anyone after you. It's not like you've tried to kill me yet."

"Hey," she whisper yelled, in fear of catching the attention of the cashier. "I’ve got a request. Or more like a requirement." she stayed clear of the word order, assuming he wouldn’t be a fan, but not wanting to abandon her dominate nature.

Clark peeled open a large band-aid. "Yeah sure, go ahead," he said as he looked over at her with a smile kindly. Why was he honestly helping this stranger? Really. He knew practically nothing about Avey, maybe she deserved to bleed out in the forest. Though he really liked something about her, and he couldn't deny that. Even demons could care enough to be kind to someone sometimes. "Whatever you need, I can attempt to provide."

She examined him a bit, now not completely suspicious of him. He seemed to know his way around all this stuff and honestly didn’t give a shit about people knowing about his ‘work’. She wondered if he even knew about the whole organization of demon hunters ready to cut off his head, but she kept quiet, saving those questions for a more appropriate time. Like when she was completely sure he wouldn’t kill her.

"That is what you do, right? Hunt demons. I mean that demon earlier surely isn't the only one you've killed." He cocked his head to the side and studied her curiously. "I've met a lot of interesting people that know about demons, but never someone who hunted us." He wondered if she planned on trying to kill him, too.

"What about…is there more of you? More reapers? I take it there’s more than one to get such a large job done."

"I never said I wasn't rude," Clark retorted. Normally he'd consider all of her questions very rude, but what was the point in arguing with this woman any more? He nodded in response to her second question. "There's probably millions of us. I know I sure as hell couldn't do this alone. There's always more in bigger cities and there's usually one reaper that watches over a group of smaller cities. It's easier that way."