Wedding Crashers [Job/Solo]

Artemis stood in the Rose Garden, wearing a simplistic black suit. Reaching up and straightening his tie, as he scanned the area, todays job was gonna be an interesting one. He got to play security at wedding; which meant a selection of fun things were up for grabs. Drinking, Flirting and fighting. Three of his favourite things. The Wedding's layout was particular well done even in Art's eyes, they had really followed the theme of roses. Archway, decor, it was...nice. Mr and soon to be Mrs Goldstar had really put all their effort into this, so no wonder they wanted to keep things running smoothly. So making sure that the bride's jealous loser ex didn't step in to ruin things was exactly why Art was there.

The bride was yet to arrive, the guest were milling around having pre-wedding drinks and catching up. A butler walked by with a tray full of champagne filled glasses. Art reached out and scooped one up, before beginning to peruse around. His red eyes scanning the area, spotting  suspicious group of tux wearing blokes standing by some trees. His eyes narrowed, that was them alright. Taking a small sip, he began to casual stroll over. Showing no indication of that was most likely about to go dwwn. As he left the wedding party and made his way over to the hardly discreet thugs lingering there. He stepped through the trees, cutting their hushed discussion short with his cocky tone.

"Hey lads, this where the party's at?"

Several eyes turned to him, all glares and stares. They instantly acknowledged that he wasn’t one of them, some straightened up as though preparing for a fight. Others tried to play it casual like they were just hanging out. They weren’t fooling anyone. One of them stepped over to him,

“We’re just having a private chat, why don’t you return to the wedding party.” He said in a tone of fake politeness. Art let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

”You see lads, I’m not with the wedding party, and neither are you.” He replies, his red eyes twinkling with the excitement of what was to come. The men looked at each other,
Shoulders flexing.

“We don’t know what you mean.” Art sighed, making a ‘tutting’ sound at them.

”Now now, you shouldn’t lie. You're here to mess up the wedding, on the orders of the bride-to-be's ex right? Listen, I’ll give you one chance, pack your balls and head home. Before things get ugly, although it may be too late for some of you. I’m talking about you baldpatch.” He made a pointing gesture to one guy who was particularly ugly, with smooshed features and a bald patch that had been poorly covered by a few combed over strands of hair. The men growled, now they were squaring up, ready to fight. Clearly not heading his words.

“And what’s an arrogant little shit like you gonna do if we don’t?” Art smiled, bringing He champagne to his lips, he drained the contents, before throwing the empty glass over his shoulder.

”You really want to know?” he asked, the guy stepped into his personal space, nodding. Art sighed. ”You asked for this!”

Art reached out, grabbing the guys arm and yanking it forward and pulling the guy closer. Throwing his head back for momentum before smashing it forward, head butting the guy straight in the nose. Blood instantly bursting from his face as it broke under the contact. Art threw the guy aside as he reached up to grab his face. The next guy came running at him, fist pulled back, Art raised his fists. Ducking the guys punch, he deliver a blow to the guys ribs quickly following it with a punch to the gut. Causing him to wheeze. The first guy grabbed him once more, trying to drag him to the ground. Art pulled out of his grip, sending a backwards kick straight into the guys crotch. Art pulled a face,

"My bad man, I meant to aim a little higher." He replied as the guy felt to the floor, holding his bits, face streaming with tears. Art knew full well the pain of being kicked in the nads, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Except maybe his grandfather, just once, really really hard. He turned back to the others, he had only taken on two of them so far. The others were hanging back a bit warily, waiting to see what he was capable of. He would have preferred to do this without his magic, but he knew that wasn't gonna to happen. There were too many of them, and he had been warned about the ex in particular. He sighed. Morte, I might need you on this one. He thought.

The cool cold laugh that filled his mind was the kind that was heard in the nightmares of children. The sound of it made his blood run cold, and he was no longer smiling, all because he knew what was coming next. He felt the menacing present of the demon inside him, ready to use his magic to take out their targets.

I thought you'd never ask...

The voice was cruel and eager, it had been a long time since Art had used his magic and he knew Morte was itching to let it out. To dish out some pain and suffering, Art could feel the evil beings demonic urges welling within. It made him nauseous. No killing them. He told him firmly. Ducking the swing off another guy with swift grace.

Art held out his palms, black orbs of demonic energy appearing above them, glowing with sinister magic and leaving a trail of smoke behind them. The directed several orbs towards the nearest men, the magic colliding with his chest and sending them flying backwards. One of the cohorts, was sent flying straight into a tree, smashing his head back and falling unconscious. It wasn't nice, but he would rather them be unconscious, he knew what Morte wanted, and he had to control those urges, they were strong, almost overwhelming, but he wouldn't allow it. He summoned more orbs, standing there as they darting round him, hitting opponent after opponent. He was careful to monitor how much damage they were doing, he was restraining himself, but he had too. Morte wanted to kill, and Art wasn't going to let him, not again.

Art watched as the orbs continued to do their work. Directing them with his thoughts, they were successful in keeping the men at bay whilst also dealing damage to them. He didn’t have to worry much, that was at least what he thought. Until a ball of ice came flying out him out of no where. He dodged it barely, feeling the frost on his cheek. He looked over to where it came from, one of the men was summoning more. So there were mages here. He scanned them, trying to work out who else might be a mage. This was going to change the situation dramatically.

Two more men stepped forward one of them summoning a fire ball and the other manipulating the air around himself to create a mini whirlwind. This was going to change the situation indeed. He needed. To make quick work of this. Doing what he could not to loose his cool.

Shall we do that?

Morte asked, his voice laced with pleasure and malice. Art sighed, it was a pretty underhanded attack, but he would be able to take out most of them without killing them at least. They would just be a little traumatised. I suppose it’s our best option. He thought.

He relaxed his body, sighing. “Remember, these are your own sins.” He said vaguely to the men. His body began to release a black fog. The smoke filled the area; the men swiped at it; unsure of what it was. Unaware of the horror they were about to endure.

Art watched as the men began to slipped into a dream of sorts, crumbling to their knees as they stared off into space. He could feel them, their sins, cloaking them though the dark fog. Others watching from afar may see smoke through the trees but that was all. Compared to what Art could see, flashes through his mind. Deceased loved ones, wronged exs, people they had beaten up. Appearing in their heads, filling three hearts with guilt and remorse. Some began to bed for it to stop, others were fighting it, denying their truths. Their ultimate truths. They were sinners and not matter how hard they had tried to forget, Morte was pulling it all back. Orchestrating an elaborate  dream for them, so they could suffer. Art felt a little nauseous by it all, some of them deserved it, having crossed many lines. Some of them were just fools, fools that had fallen into the wrong gang. Having lost their way for some reason or the other, and we’re now being punished for it. The only ones not having to suffer were the two unconscious ones.

Art pulled his hatchet from he belt attached to his hip, he palmed it for a moment. His newest weapon. The hatchet began to morph, changing its shape it transformed in a long battle axe. It’s shiny red gem glistening in the middle. Art stepped behind the wind mage, who was currently crumpled into a ball, crying as he witnessed the death of his grandparents once again. Art felt bad for him, he would end this now.

Turning the axe to it’s side so the sharp ends faced away, he swung it down on the guys head. With a hard clang, the guy collapsed to the floor. Nightmares over, now unconscious. The way the spell worked was if you have sinned, it would show you your sins in the darkest manifestation of them. If shown to a murderer that murdered would see their victims coming for them. If someone had wrong someone they loved would be shown that loved one suffering, all because of their selfish actions. If the one showed had no sins, they would be shown there worst fears in the realest form possible, and if they had no fear. Morte would manifest a nightmare like no other, something that would shake anyone to the core. It was a cruel and unforgiving magic, and although it left no scars, it was damaging in other ways.

You’re too soft in nature Artemis, the power to paralyse a soul without the slightest touch. You should revel in it, you say this is my doing. But I only supply the magic, you’re the one manipulating it.

Mortes words rung in his ears, he didn’t deny what the demon was saying. He understood this was his cruelty too. But what choice did he have, he wasn’t bestowed with the magic of his family. Without this he would most likely have been exiled or even executed. He despised it, if he could he would trade it in a second but he respected it’s strength. 

Art stepped away from the unconscious body of the mage whose suffering he had just ended. He paced the grass, sighing, this wasn't turning out to be as fun as he'd originally expected it to be. He loved to fight, but this scenario had pushed him into a disadvantage . Requiring him to use a move that took the fun out of it all. He walked over to the next body, the guy who nose he had broken earlier. This guy was a real piece of work, he had a thing about beating up people smaller than him. He especially loved knocking out guys walking home with their other halves, humiliating them. What a dirtbag. Art thought, turning away from the guy. Deciding he would let him suffer a little longer. He knew he was having one of the worst nightmares out of the lot, but that was cause he deserved it.


He made his way over to the guy with the bad bald patch, observing his sin. This guy was just a simpleton, he was just in their gang cause he was too dumb to know better. Art wondered for a moment whether hitting this guy over the head would actually be a good idea. He clearly needed the braincells he had. He didn't however have much choice, it was even knock him unconscious or wake him up and fight him until he ended up unconscious anyway. He kneeled in front of the guy, the dream he was having wasn't even that scary. Just his aunty calling him 'stupid' over and over again.

"Hey, If you can hear me, listen up. Stop doing stupid things and people will stop calling you stupid. You don't need to hang out with a bunch of morons, beating up folk. Use your strength and do something useful. And while you're at it, shave your head completely. The patch looks ridiculous."

He stood up, bringing the flat edge of the axe crashing down on the guys head. The bloke's eyes rolled back and he slumped face forward into the dirt. It was at that point, the fog faded, dissipating into the air. The two remaining guys stopped crying. Blinking a few times before looking around. Realising they were no longer living a nightmare.

"Well boys, I hope you had some time to think about your life choices. Now do you still want to wreck this party, or you gonna head up like good little boys." Art shifted Red Dwarf so the axe's arm rested over his shoulder. Tilting his head as the looking at the guys. The fire mage looked pretty exhausted, like he really wanted to go home and lie down. The other guy, the dirtbag, on the other hand just looked real pissed.

"You're gonna pay for putting us through that."

Art smirked, shaking his head, some people just never learned. Somehow I doubt it. The dirtbag ran forward, Art swung his axe back and threw it. Red Dwarf spun through the air, before embedding itself in the guys leg. He let out a scream, falling to his knees.

Art held out his palm, the axe ripped itself out of the wound and came flying back through the air. Art caught the axe by her hilt, swinging it by his side. One of it's edges dripping in blood.

Delicious

He heard Morte in his head, pulling at the face at the moan of pleasure the demon expressed from Art's attack. It was these kind of reactions that explained exactly why Art didn't like fighting with him. It was creepy and uncomfortable. The thing about Red Dwarf was that it was a little sharp, he preferred to use it on monsters rather than people. It was a weapon built more so for killing and maiming. Regardless he still find it more comfortable to use than his Takeover magic. He didn't need Morte to use Red Dwarf. He looked over to the fire mage,

"What about you? You still want to fight?" The mage eyed his friend up for a moment, clearly thinking about leaving. But he seemed to decide against it, summoning fireballs around him. Art sighed, "Well I commend your loyalty, even if it's led to a really bad decision." Art admitted. He tilted his head from side to side and rotating his shoulder. Pulling out more of Morte's magic. His skin began to turn back, hardening into scales. Upon thickening, the skin cracked, leaving glowing gaps that emitted more of the black smoke. The only thing that remained the same was his red hair and eyes.

Art had seen the way he looked in this form, it was terrifying, evening frightening to himself. So when the smell of fear began to radiate from the two men in front of him he wasn't surprised. The scent of sweat, the quickening of their breath, his senses heightened and so did his ability to feel their fear. He feel a slight twinge of pleasure from it, although he knew those were Morte's emotions, being this way, made them more... in sync. He flexed his muscles, feeling his new tightly layer of skin stretch, scales slides bumpily over each other.

The fire mage summoned a fire ball, and threw it at him, he stood there allowing it to hit his arm. He looked down at it, feeling a slight warmth where it had hit. The fire dissipated, leaving little damage. He looked over to the fire magic, a broad grin across his features. Then he shot forward, lowering his top half, he rammed into the guy. Picking him up by the waist, he threw him up into the air, before grabbing his legs. Swinging the mage up, his petrified yell echoing through the air, only to be cut short as he body was slammed against the ground with great force. Art looked over him, he was nearly out, one more would do, just for good measure. He picked him up once more, before smashing him head first into the ground. Knocking him out completely, Art let out a little chuckle before looking over at other guy.

Art stalked his way over to the last guy, a malicious grin across his black scaly features. The guy backed away a few steps, Art chuckled, shaking his head. He didn't even sound like himself, even his vocal chords were different. Sounding deeper, smoother and much more sadistic. It was a sound to send a shiver to the core and would leave anyone shake. As Art reached him, he reached out, grabbing him by the throat. Raising him into the air, and limiting his aiways as he did so.

"Where's the ex?"

He snarled threateningly, the guy hung their struggling, yet not talking. So Art gave him a squeeze, cutting off his air completely. He held him for a moment, tilting his head at him. The guy turned red, clutching at his hand desperately. Art watched, his eyes bulged and his face swelled from the suffocation. Art didn't want to stop, he wanted to carry on until the man fell limp, but that was Morte's doing. He summoned his will and released the man slightly, allowing him to breathe a little. He gasped for air, trying to take in what he could, before gasping out some words.


"The bridal tent, he's heading there." Art smiled at the guy, pleased to have received the information, before throwing him into the ground at full force, and pummelling a round of swift punches to his face. Taking him out of the situation completely, he straightened up after, his hand now coating with blood from the guys face.

Art took a quick look at himself and shifted back to normal. Feeling his skin loosen and become softer, as he returned to his normal self. He would have to walk across the wedding party and he couldn't quite do that looking like a demon could he? He walked over to a tree and brushed his blood-soaked hand over it. Doing a poor guy at making it less bloody, but at least it looked less menacing. He turned and made his way away from trees, moving quickly and doing his best not to make eye contact with any of the guests. He arrived in the bridal tent, and as he expectant the ex-boyfriend was there, hand wrapped around the brides arm, trying to talk to her. Art tutted, striding straight over, he pulled out Red Dwarf. The weapon extending, he held it up to the ex-boyfriends throat.


"I'd let go if I was you." He growled, his eyes still gleaming with malice, having used Morte's magic meant it took a while for him to return to complete normality. The ex let guy, with a scream the bride turned and ran out of the tent, followed by her fearful bridesmaids.
Leaving just to two of them.  

"Who the fuck are you?" He snarled angrily, eyes glancing from Art's face to the Axe. Art smirked once more,

"Why I'm the fuck that's taking you out of this party, after all, I'm sure your not on any guest list here." He retorted, throwing his axe back, he took a swing, slicing a gash through the ex's leg.

Art still had that desire to hurt in his mind, lingering from Morte and him being so connected, he proceeded to swing the axe back and forth. Managing to get two more cuts in as he did so. The guy darted back, raising his arms he realised a wave of pulse magic. Art dodged it, but unfortunately Red Dwarf was thrown out of his grip across the room. It was fine, he could summon it back soon. But he was hit with the overwhelming urge not to. He stretched out his arms, allowing Morte's magic to flow through them, changing them. They turned black and scaly once more, swelling with the thickening of his muscles. His nails growing thicker and lengthening into long claws.

He charged the ex, using his new powerful arms to deliver punch after punch, breaking into a full fist up. The ex tried to get a hit in, but the pure size and strength of Art's armed blocked his attacks. Art delivered a well time uppercut, that sent him flying back into the air and straight into a chair. Art didn't stop, he walked over, kneeling on the guys chest, he didn't several punches to the guys face, loosing count of how many hits he delivered. The guy roared with rage, loosing it completely, Art was knocked out. Scrambling to his feet, a chair flying through the air at him. He used his demon arm to deflect the blow, wooden splintering around him. The next to come flying was a table.

Art jumped up, stepping on the table and using it to fly forward at the guy. Tackling him to the ground, the two wrestled for a moment before the ex ended up on top. Art saw him raised his arm and sensed that he was about to use his wave magic. Art reached forward, thrusting the claws of his hand into the guys stomach. The guy let out a yell, allowing Art to pushed him off, yanking out his claws in the process. Art booted the guy hard in the face, before leaning over him and proceeded to deal blow after blow to the guy. He sensed him growing weaker with each hit, he would be out soon. The guy crawled backwards, using a dressing table to lift himself up, one hand clutching his bleeding gut. The guy panting for a moment before flying back towards Art. Art dodged his punch, aiming a blow straight to the gut, where his wound was. The guys wheezed, bending forward, giving art the opportunity to deliver a left hook to his jaw. The collision was solid, easily rattling the guys brain. Art stepped back as he slowly crumbled to the floor. Art stood there for a moment, it had been a pretty full on fight, he had been a lot stronger than the other guys. Art allowed his magic to return within, his arms shrinking, he winced at the strain of it, his nails hand returning to their normal groomed selves. He held out a blood hand, Red Dwarf soared through the air and landed in his grip. Immediately shifting into the size of a hatchet, he tuck it into his belt. He heard a rustle as the groom picked through, looking aghast at the devastation. Art offered him a friendly smile and polite thumbs up, which looked very bizarre with his torn clothes and bloody hands. But he didn't care, that as far as he saw, was a job well done.

END