Evil With A Pinch Of Salt

An angel walks up to a master assassin and proposes a way to prevent the Apocalypse.
It sounds like the start of a bad joke.
Killing the Seven Deadly Sins isn't much of a punchline either.
[Please note- this story isn't so much focused on the actual writing skills, I guess, but more on the twists and fourth-wall breaks and such. It's essentially a bit of a trial run for me]


6. Chapter Five - This Is Not Much Of A Party


There was far too much screaming for a Saturday night.

​Too be honest, it had just been her at first. She'd been screaming as the two monster/people/demon/beings threw her into one wall, then another, then the mirror, and then through the window.

Then she stopped screaming and started falling instead.

Then she stopped falling, clutched at the vines the brick walls were lathered in and began climbing down instead. She could probably get back into the building through a different entrance- maybe the backdoor or something- meet up with Nathaniel, mention that she might've found the two people he wanted and then run home as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Where are you going?"  the woman crooned, peering out of the window and snarling down at her, "don't you want to stay and play?"

Emory paused, her feet dangling in front of the first floor window. "I'm good, thanks," she called, and began moving again. She was a few metres down before she let go, the intention to jump straight to the ground, but instead she hit something- or should that be something- who let out a yell when she landed on their head.

Emory and the other person were sent sprawling into the neatly-cut grass. Emory spun, reached into her boot to grab at her knife and pulled it out as Nathaniel plucked a leaf from his hair and shrugged apologetically.

​"I was planning on catching you," he said as Emory sighed and stood up, pushing her knife back into her boot. She'd thought that he'd been someone else who was going to kill her. The woman leant out from the window, a grin plastered on her face- a dark and sickly crimson, like a slit throat.

Emory nodded politely, not taking her eyes from the window. She couldn't see the man anywhere. "I think I've found the people you're after, by the way," Emory said and Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow.

"I assumed that was the reason for your untimely exit from the house, but I wasn't sure if you were simply bored of the music." Nathaniel straightened his jacket, brushed down his hair and started back to the back door. Emory had jumped out of the same window she'd climbed through earlier, and she couldn't help but be thankful that no one had been smoking outside the back door to witness her less-than-graceful landing.

​"What are you doing?" Emory frowned,as Nathaniel stepped back into the building and turned to her.

"Going back inside to complete our objective, what else?"

"Back inside." Emory echoed. "We're- you're- going back inside after them?"

Nathaniel paused in the doorway. "Well, of course." Emory couldn't help but find moral people a breath of fresh air- she was always surrounded by the blackened and the twisted, and sometimes, spending time with someone with an actual soul was somewhat cleansing. Maybe that was why she had signed herself up for this ridiculous suicide mission in the first place: she'd actually be helping people for once, rather than killing them.

Also, Nathaniel had shown her some pretty awesome smiting tricks. She'd be damned if she didn't hang around with him for a while longer, if not for his magic tricks.

But Emory still crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow anyway. "I'm good, thanks, getting thrown out of windows isn't really my thing, if I'm honest."


She nodded. "Rather hypocritical, given I've done it a few times to others myself, but still. Good luck, though. Have fun in there, 'cause I'm going to go back to murdering people for extortionate amounts."

Maybe it was just Emory, but Nathaniel reminded her of a puppy that believed that it was being taken on a walk but had just found out that it really wasn't. He simply looked so utterly disappointed. It almost made her smile.

Nathaniel took another step into the room. It looked toasty warm in there, and Emory wasn't much looking forward to walking back to some lonely apartment in the dark. "I understand that we've only been acquainted for the last three chapters or so, but I'd still appreciate your  assistance."

​"Wait, what?"

Nathaniel paused, bit his lip and then sighed, turned round on his heal and shut the door behind him.   

And now Emory felt both confused and  that tiny, insy-winsy twinge of guilt.

​But she waited for another moment, forcing herself to ignore the roaring silence that reverberated inside the building. Of course, she tried to distract herself for a few minutes- wondered how long it would take for someone to contact her asking for another murder, she sang a little song, kicked the ground, wondered what going on inside.

Maybe you, the reader, remember the first line of this chapter. Something along the lines of "there was far too much screaming for a Saturday night". And sure, there hadn't been so much screaming yet, but that sure was about to change.


The back door was suddenly flung open and Emory was pushed to the side, her head narrowly missing the brick wall. She relled back, pulling out her knife, as a woman staggered into the cold air, followed by another, then a man and then another. They were screaming, faces pale. The last guest to topple through had blood on his shirt. He clutched Emory by the jacket- he was the second person to do that this evening, she should probably not wear such grabbable clothing in the future- with wide eyes.  

"Get out of here!" His voice was hoarse. "There's monsters in there. Actual goddam monsters. You need to get out of here."  

"Excuse me," Emory said politely, and pushed him away.  

The man landed heavily, smacking heavily against the ground, as he looked up at her, to the knife in her hand, and then he scrambled to his feet. Then he ran away. Emory sighed. Everyone was so judgemental these days- just because you had a knife in your hand and a gun in your pocket doesn't mean that you were about to kill every person you met. Gawd.  

She straightened, brushed off her jacket, and stepped back inside the building.  

The first thing she noticed was the mess. Food was scattered over the floors, furniture upheaved and a massive, Nathaniel-shaped hole in one wall. The man was holding Nathaniel up by his throat, his feet kicking feebly as his face began to turn purple.

​"Did you really believe that you could defeat anyone like me, angel?" the man smiled, perfect teeth flashing. Emory couldn't see the woman anywhere. "You foolish being, you pathetic, foolish being. Do you not understand my power, my strength? And yet, you come practically alone, with only a pathetic human for guidance. And even they have left you now, and yet you still dare to challenge me?" The man's eyes were completely and utterly black, like caves. "You fool."


Nathaniel's eyes flashed over as Emory slipped closer, boots sinking silently into the soft carpet. Then he raised one hand and pressed it against the man's face, and for an instant, all Emory could see was a blinding flash, and all she could smell was the stench of burning flesh.

The man screamed, threw Nathaniel away from him. The man's skin was scorched, a burnt palm print across his face, over his nose and his now-blistered lips. Emory winced- that looked like it might have hurt.

The man staggered back pressed a hand to his face before screaming again, black eyes filled with anger. Emory could almost see little miniature flames blazing within them. "Y-you!" he gasped. "What did you do to my face?"

Nathaniel had collapsed to the floor, his limbs trembling, and the man's snarl twisted into a smile again, the burn fading back into perfect skin. Emory frowned. Welp, that determined it- this was a relatively supernatural; occurance.

The man started towards Nathaniel again and Emory stepped forwards and thrust her knife into his back.

Maybe that wasn't necessarily the way to end a fight, but Emory wasn't much of a brave person. She wasn't much for putting herself in any danger if she could help it.

And anyway, the cowardly way usually got the job done.

The man gasped, choked, hacked on the blood that was worming into his lungs- wait, was that blood black? How curious- as he turned round to face her, a sneer curling his lips, blood seeping through his teeth.

Emory raised an eyebrow, the knife dangling loosely between her fingers. "Don't get me wrong here, because I could be wrong even though I'm pretty certain that I'm not, but I'm guessing you're Pride, right? Head so big that it'd probably take at least three bullets to actually get through to your brain?" She shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly the most humble person you'd ever meet, but still. Not proud enough to become a demonic force of evil based off of it."  

The man let out a low breath before sinking to his knees and toppling into the carpet. Nathaniel stood up and Emory gave a little bow. "You're welcome," she said. "Where's the other one?"  

Nathaniel pointed to a small shape in the corner of the room. The woman looked far smaller without a head. Emory let out a low whistle. "You did that?"  

Nathaniel had seemed so innocent at first, kind of like the Captain America of the angel world- all patriotic and merciful and all for the common good. Seems she was wrong. He nodded. "She wasn't particularly dangerous- more a lesser demon that had decided to join the party. She begged to exchange information for her life, and told me where another of the demons are before I put her down anyway."  

So Nathaniel was the nice kind of pipsqueak with a brutal, efficient side. Like Jenkyl and Hyde. How interesting.  

He stood, straightened his jacket and walked to the door. "Will you be coming? I'd appreciate the help."  

Emory shrugged and cleaned the black blood from her knife and onto the cream carpet. That'd probably be a massive pain to clean out later. Then she turned to Nathaniel. "Lead the way."   

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