The Denny's Debacle

"I have an idea" the "hero" thought, or rather, he shouted loudly for everyone to hear, mainly Wanting because there was hardly anyone else around. Why the angel decided to speak aloud was a mystery to Wanting but he decided to chalk it up to some old racist thing. He was further baffled over what the idea actually was. The grand idea was to swoop down and grab one of the still dozens of bodies and fly up all of 10ft to the ceiling of the building and drop the body. Again, Wanting wasn't sure what he really expected to achieve from this other than maybe spraining that body's ankle, oh well.

Regardless of Solomon's antics, Wanting was growing profoundly disinterested in this "fight". All the angel did was fly around, swing a sword, and occasionally throw something. Solomon certainly wasn't giving this his all and it was rather rude considering how considerate and fair Wanting was being towards him. If he didn't expect anything but the best attempt, how could he possibly cross off this opportunity to feel something again?

The only problem wasn't whether or not he could kill the angel, he absolutely could with the various sniper nests he had surrounding the area. Solomon may be strong and can fly, but could he handle several 12.7-mm rounds? No, the issue was balance. Solomon needed to believe he was about to die and only then would Wanting be there, ready and waiting for the most powerful smite Solomon could muster. Sighing, mainly for show, he reached into a purse and handed out several pistols of various calibers. Maybe some live-fire will help motive the racist.

As the creature landed with a tiny ‘thud,’ Solomon found himself quite disappointed. As he watched the creature back up like it was nothing only caused his disappointment to grow even further. “Guess this heathen has got me all mixed up today, I have to double my Hail Marys tonight to make up for it” Solomon's mentality planned. He snapped back into reality and this sad and gloomy Denny’s just as he gets a sharp yet burning pain in one of his wings, a pain who is causing become all the clearer when he saw one of the shells holding a smoking object.  



Jumping into action Solomon was able to dive at such a speed that the moment he made contact he watched as the armed husk flew out the window at almost Mach 1, a speed that made Solomon disappointed as Mach 3 was his record. Another several burning pains hit his back as he retracted his wings, turning around just to see four shells lined up like a firing squad with their revolvers pointed right at him. As they fired another shot Solomon grabbed a table and charged for them, several gunshots and two bullet holes in his shoulder later he was close enough to throw the table causing all four to go flying back as the table pushed them through the air. As Solomon took a moment to heal himself, he heard as many more shells surrounded him.  



Solomon slowly closed his eyes as he started preparing for the worse, after about a minute he slowly opened them to see what was going on. Around him stood dozens of husks, some armed with revolvers while others were lucky to be holding a table leg. as he glanced at the bodies in front of him, Solomon could not hold back as a smirk grew on his face. “So!!” Solomon yelled with enough confidence to take on an army alone “You like to play these games with everyone you meet or just the ones who truly have you outnumbered?!!!?” Solomon gripped his sword as tight as he could without snapping the hilt in two, as he felt the leather of the hilt start to shift around his hand he started to yell “I’m sick and tired of your games you demon of a demon!” quickly holding up his sword getting ready for battle he hits his boiling point, “why don’t you stop being such a fucking coward and face me head-on!!!! This will end one of two ways for you, either You are sent back to hell from once you came or I’m going to drag you down there myself with my own two hands covered in your black and unholy blood!!!!!!!!”

If nothing else, at least Solomon was interesting. Wanting thought. Just about everything he has said or done has been somewhat surprising. While he couldn't say whether or not this was exciting, truthfully, he couldn't really know. Regardless, Solomon was turning out to be abnormal, even for a so-called "hero". He was racist, hotheaded, vulgar, and delusional.

Wanting came to this conclusion after hearing Solomon swear at him for going after people who outnumbered him. This just didn't really make sense to Wanting. After all, it was Wanting who vastly outnumbered him here. He couldn't understand how Solomon thought he had any sort of control here, let alone having the numbers advantage. Maybe his delusions of grandeur were simply to the point that he honestly believed that despite the overwhelming numbers, he could easily and effortlessly take on armies. Had this been a decade ago, Wanting could've seen himself trying to help this obviously broken person. Maybe develop some medication for him...

He shook himself from these thoughts. That life was over, dead, and buried. There was no point in saving the world that didn't care.

"Done playing with my toys already?" Wanting forced out a chuckle. "And you were finally starting thin the numbers, but if you are so insistent, I suppose I can play as well."

The emotionless crowd separated, parting to let a girl no older than 15, wearing a mask of whimsical delight. She held up a dinner fork and tilted her head.

"Given that you already have a sword, it only seems fair that I have a weapon of my own. Apologies I couldn't find something smaller, I'm sure you'll still prove challenging."

The teen shifted onto the balls of her feet and held her non-forkarm behind her back. Pointing her dinner fork out towards the winged racist he tilted her head. "But enough talk, have at you!" She lunged with startling speeds.

“A Child?” Solomon thought to himself as the red sea of husks parted, “surely you must be joking?” he said aloud just in time to see her raise her fork. It took all of Solomon’s strength to hold back laughter as the child stated to move throughs him, a fight he lost as he burst into laughter at the whole idea. “A fucking child?” he burst out in between laughter, “I ask for a fight and you send in a child? You really are a beast, aren’t you?” His laughter came to a stop when he suddenly felt a pain in his right shoulder as something sharp stabbed into it, he opened his eyes just in time to see the teen get squinted with crimson liquid that stained her mask.



Thinking fast he quickly threw up his other arm and smacked the teen across the face, while Solomon still held back with the hit, he still hit with a force strong enough to send her flying across the room. Quickly grabbing the fork handle Solomon ripped it out of his arm, as blood started to gush it caused a puddle to form at Solomon’s feet. “is that the best you got?” Solomon can say in between pain grunts, “Tricky of you to get me off my guard like that but that stops now.” As he rolled his shoulders, he could feel the metal utensil start to slip from his fingers before it fell the 43 inches and splashing into the crimson puddle.  



As he looked around Solomon noticed the husks were still not moving even of that. With a laugh he finally blurted out “so the little girl is your final form Ah?” before reaching into his belt and grabbing a flask. With the flask in hand, he quickly walks up to one of the still husks and starts to pour the flask’s contents onto the creature’s head. Upon seeing nothing occurring he sighs before rising with his wings, “Okay” he says as he makes it to the roof of the building “where is your little brat puppet.

Wanting rose from the collapsed shelf of Denny's promotional material. He tried to part some of his long blonde hair from his face but realized his arm has been dislocated from the impact. Without any hesitation, this 15-year-old child grabbed her dislodged arm and gave it a sharp tug. With a loud pop, the arm was reset.

“is that the best you got? Tricky of you to get me off my guard like that but that stops now."

The crazed villain frowned behind his mask. He wasn't frowning about the taunting insults, had he been sensitive to that then, well, he wouldn't need to be doing any of this. No, he was frowning more in confusion over the idiocy of Solomon. Catching him off guard, how? Wanting outright announced that he was attacking in the most obvious way possible. If Solomon had been caught off guard then he might be blind...or an idiot.

Most likely an idiot as instead of taking advantage of his downed opponent he decided to pour his drink on one of the crowd. Wanting let out a half-assed sigh that he was dealing with this idiot. He had expected a great battle, wherein the end the angel unleashed his all and made him feel something...but all he is getting is the inane ramblings of a racist delusional loon. Quite frankly, this was turning out to be a waste of Wanting's time.

Commanding his crowd, Wanting caught multiple forks and knives in each hand and gave a quick twirl of them. The punch he took had sent him flying but the most serious injury it did was the dislocated arm and superficial damage. This body was still up to the task.

"Okay, where is your little brat puppet." The racist said as he rose to the ceiling making himself an easy target.

Not wasting the effort to dignify Solomon any longer, Wanting arms shot out in rapid succession sending a torrent of utensils towards Solomon. Thanks to him hovering in the air there was hardly a chance to miss.