The two men halted in the deserted road, the streetlights casting their shadows in all directions, the strong wind catching their long coats and causing them to sway.

   “This is a bit open,” remarked one of them, tall, well-built, short hair dyed red and black. “Anyone could see us.”

   “People do not see what they cannot comprehend,” answered the shorter, older oriental man as he sat cross-legged upon the tarmac. Unconcerned with passers by or moving cars, of which there were neither, he unzipped the bag in his lap and began pulling out objects.

   The other man dropped his bag onto the ground, slipped off his coat, rolled it up and put it in. He wore a black boiler suit, only without sleeves and tucked into both boots, also black, and a samurai sword hung from his belt. Also unusual were the bizarre tattoos covering both arms, whirling up his muscular limbs to disappear under his clothes, where they covered his entire body.

   The oriental shed his coat, revealing the fact he wore sandals and a kilt only. He, too, was emblazoned with patterns and pictures of different colours, many the same as the ones upon his comrade, and he pulled the pin from his hair to let it tumble down his back to the ground.

   “Soon?” asked the warrior, impatient as he pulled on tight gloves.

   “He is near,” confirmed the shaman as he scribbled with chalk upon cement. “He is also angry.”

   “Does he know?” The warrior’s voice was calm, he wasn’t worried.

   “I cannot tell yet,” the shaman replied as he placed a small steel ball in the triangle of runes. “However I would imagine he does, we are well known to them by now.”

   “Do you think they have nightmares about us?” the warrior asked, smiling.

   “I hope so,” chuckled the other as he picked up the ball, then hurled it up into the air. Yet it didn’t go far, suddenly bolting away and striking the ground twenty feet away.

   “There,” the shaman said, rising, and the two walked to the spot, their humour banished by their professionalism as they prepared for the task. Again they placed their bags upon the ground as they took up position, and this time the shaman knelt as he wrote more runes. The warrior pulled a black sash from his bag and tied it about his waist, over his belt. He then strapped two daggers to his thighs and two thin knives to his forearms.

   The shaman moved back as the warrior came to stand in the two circles he had drawn. Now he took a pouch from his waist and dipped both hands in, one at a time. He wove his fingers and swirled his hands, the powder leaving fading signals in the air, then he spat, the saliva catching the last of the powder and plastering it to the warrior’s back.

   Suddenly the tattoos on his arms shone with light and his clothes glowed as the rest of the artwork upon him did so too. Then the light ceased and the warrior flexed his arms.

   “It’s a disgusting way to do it, but it works,” he said.

   “Be thankful it does,” the shaman began, then he froze. “He’s here!” he declared.

   “Didn’t you sense...?”

   “I don’t know how but he deceived me. You must hold him until I’m ready,” the shaman commanded. The warrior nodded but already both men’s attention was on the ground before them. A circle of red light had appeared.

   A huge shape burst from it, knocking the pair over as it flew high, the circle now vanishing. As they looked up, they saw wings sprout from the black mass.

   “He will be much harder now we have no trap laid for him,” the shaman remarked.

   “Not hard enough,” the warrior said and vaulted into the air, drawing his sword as he rose level with the hovering creature. Blackness opened and the warrior looked into a pale eyeball.

   “You killed my wife,” the deep, low voice told him.

   “And she screamed like the pathetic demon she was,” the warrior replied, pulling two metal stars from his sash. “As will you.”

   He hurled the weapons, and with such force they tore right through the creature, bursting out the far end. It howled in pain, and its cry continued as the sword swept across its eye.

   Despite this wound it still watched the warrior drop to the ground, before swooping to follow, wings beating once as it dived at its prey. Talons protruded from its front and tentacles with hooked ends reached out all along its length.

   The warrior leapt up to meet his foe, twirling as he flew, his sword appearing to be a circular blade about him. He sliced his way through a row of flexing tentacles, causing a growl this time, then diverted and sped across the demon’s width, opening up another gash with his weapon.

   Suddenly a beak snapped, missing but still hitting the warrior and sending him tumbling to the earth. Cement cracked under the impact of his landing.

   He rolled aside as a tentacle pounded the ground, then jumped to his feet and hurled a dagger. It cut through one wing at the stem and the demon span and crashed, juices spurting forth as limbs and abdomen were damaged. Immediately it rose though, dozens of legs taking it scuttling forward. The warrior jumped high and over, sending more metal stars into the creature below, then landed behind it. It began to turn, yet had noticed the busy shaman, drawing numerous sets of sigils about the road, occasionally placing objects and scattering powder. It charged at him.

   The warrior gave chase, pulling a loop of thin cable from his sash, whirling one end and lashing it about two of the demon’s legs. He yanked and the creature hit the ground, grunting, but legs, tentacles and other appendages pushed and it rose once more, pulling the warrior forward. He tugged back, jerking his enemy towards him, but it strained and slowly the two inched forward.

   Two tentacles came back and lifted and swung the cable, hurling the warrior across the street, then wrestled the cable from itself. But the warrior was already running at it as it resumed its charge, then he leapt, somersaulted twice and landed upon the demon’s back, driving it flat. He plunged his sword in deep before twisting and ripping, black ooze erupting and soaking his legs, the entire form trembling as the being screamed. Tentacles came whistling through the air but the warrior rolled aside and hooks tore into unnatural flesh accidentally, before the sword carved more wounds and the mortal jumped away.

   In rage the demon went after the warrior, smashing up the street as it tried to crush the evasive tormentor. He span, flipped, ducked and soared, cutting at tentacles and claws, stabbing at the dark mass as it tried to engulf him. He barely avoided numerous attacks but he did avoid them, infuriating and tiring the demon, although his energy was also draining.

   Suddenly a tentacle struck, ripping open his clothes, only not his skin. Yet he was hurt and he lay gasping as fangs came forward.

   A glowing lasso lashed out and tightened about the jutting jaws, clamping them shut. Then the shaman uttered another incantation and a glass pyramid sprang from its place, grew incredibly and encased the demon. It roared and attacked its prison with every limb it had, cracking the glass but failing to break through. More and more it struck, but as a fist burst out, chains flew and wrapped about the prism, then, as glass completely shattered, they bound the demon.

   “You can’t hold him for long,” the warrior told his partner.

   “I can tire him,” replied the shaman, “while you prepare for the final fight.”

   The warrior nodded and took some powder from the pouch, before sprinkling it along his blade. Then he offered it to the shaman, who slid his arm along the edge, and the warrior did the same. Neither man was cut but blood covered the metal. The warrior turned to the demon, which now ripped apart its bindings, and hurled his weapon. It plunged in, sinking completely into the dark mass, just as the shaman gripped his hands together and began to chant a mantra.

   The numerous groups of runes about the street crackled with light and spat into the air so that the sigils now glowed above the trio, while an arrow, a spear and a trident flew from their positions. The demon howled in further agony as they embedded in it, losing its hold on the sword so it delved back into darkness. Again it tried to force the agonising weapon out, whilst brushing off the other three, but now it heard the shaman’s near singing and spotted the blazing runes.

   It flew up and forward, huge legs propelling its great mass, and then it descended upon the two antagonising mortals. But the shaman commanded and the runes pelted onto the demon, burning into it and halting it in mid-air. Despite its pain the creature reached from its fixed position for its foes, but the shaman’s words kept coming and the demon froze. It found it could no longer rearrange itself in any way, nothing moved or mutated, every cell of its being was paralysed.

   The warrior reached out and the demon felt its pain increase as the sword responded to his gesture. It then howled as the weapon ripped from it, cutting from its centre to appear to its right, the blade glowing red as blood. Then the warrior flicked his wrist and the sword slashed back into the demon, carving diagonally through to come out the other side. Again he guided his weapon about the demon’s form, creating channels and causing agony, while the shaman sent a battery of charms and incantations to pummel their foe. Large parts disintegrated under their combined assault.

   “Foul mortals!” barked the demon. “I will burn your insides and devour your souls.”

   “Strange, your wife said the same when we killed her,” taunted the warrior.

   “Delusion must run in the family,” added the shaman. He spliced three spells together and sent them speeding to the sword as the warrior lowered it from the demon. The weapon now blazed with stored power and it bolted back into the frozen being, then there was a screech as light beams of different colours seared out from the demon, the spells erupting from the sword and shredding its ruined form. One last time it roared in pain and rage, before the demon dissolved, its black shape melting and fading into the darkness of the night.

   The warrior sheathed his sword.

   “That was exciting,” he commented.

   “It was good exercise for you,” the shaman replied. “Yet I will focus harder next time on the arrival, we can’t afford to be surprised again, a demon not overwhelmed by emotion could kill us both.”

   “But when it comes to us they are all overwhelmed by emotion, they hate us, they fear us,” said the warrior. “We’ve killed enough of them to touch every demon in the dimensions and in time we’ll get them all.”

   “In time,” agreed the shaman as they collected their devices and returned them to their bags, before removing their coats and covering themselves up. The shaman chanted and gestured and the battered street returned to normal, then they gazed over the silent houses, all unaware due to magic and incomprehension, before picking up their bags and moving on.