Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S2 Ep82: Episode 82: Demonic Horror Stories

Episode Date: May 29, 2022

Tonight’s opening horrific tale of terror is ‘Kidnapped by A Demon’, a wonderful story By Austin DR, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and narrated here for you all with the author���s express permission under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Kidnapped_By_A_Demon https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:AustinDR Today’s second story is ‘The Texas Demon Hunter Chronicles’, an original work by Vinsanity 1972, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all [This story was originally titled: ‘Texas Demon Hunter Chronicles vol.1 ... Drug Cartel Vengeance’ and ‘vol.2... The Desert Devil’]. https://www.reddit.com/user/Vinsanity_1972

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. We tolerate, even promote, many things we once regarded as evil, wrong or immoral, and then we seek explanations for an act that seems beyond comprehension. Remove societal restraints on some evils and one can expect the demons to be freed to conduct other evil acts. Two terrifying tales of demonic possession for you this evening. Now, as always, before we begin,

a word of caution. Night stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, and let's begin. In the early 2000s, a man collapsed in front of a police station. He was completely naked and possessed a skeletal frame. Bystanders saw this action transpire,

but they continued their stroll out of the assumption he was merely a drug addict who had become dependent on whatever substance he was taking. The chief of police came to the station not too long after the man fainted. Without much delay, he sends for some of his men to collect the man and bring him inside. The man awoke in the interrogation room with a warm wool blanket around him. His eyes were sunken in, most likely from weeks of insomnia. He shakily had a cup of coffee in his hands.

Every instant he went to take a swig of the beverage, he spasmed in his chair, spilling the hot liquid on the floor. He looked behind his back constantly during the interview. He brought his cup down on the table and cupped his face, hiding his shame. Sir, I'd like to introduce myself. The interrogator began. My name is Officer McKenzie. I wouldn't like to ask you a few questions.

The man shook his head violently. No, no, I can't. Sir, we found you naked with an arm's length of the station. we want to know what happened. I can't. He'll know where I'm at. Officer McKenzie took a deep drawer of his cigar and breathed out a ring of smoke. He waited a bit for the interviewee to recuperate.

He set his timer to 60 minutes. During those minutes, he talked pleasurably with the man on unrelated topics to make the interviewee more comfortable in hopes of making him more lenient on elaborating what brought in there. The man breathed in slow. and took a final look behind his back before answering. Are you able to tell me what incidents brought you to our station? Mackenzie asked. Yes, he said.

It may sound crazy, though. Officer McKenzie leaned backward in his chair, motioning for the man to continue. The interviewee's hands started to shake again, but he was able to choke out a mumbled line of words. Have you ever heard of the Popple? Bower. Officer McKenzie stared at the man and then at his fellow officers. No, I haven't. The man sighed in relief. You don't know? That's good. What does this, um, peepy barra have to do with you? That thing, the man drew out the last word, is not of this earth. He rubbed his eyes that were laced

with eyebags. He is some monster from this country I never heard of. Zanzibar. Zanzibar? Officer McKenzie reiterated. We live just north of Cherry Shrub, Mississippi, son. My co-worker told me about this legend, the interviewee clarified. I didn't believe it at first. Some bad thing from hell. You know. The interviewee was laughing nervously at the last note of his dialogue. Ugly tears began to fill his eyes as he deteriorated back into a sniveling red. I was wrong to encourage him like that, with my disbelief. What happened, son?

He appeared to me as a black cat that I passed on the way to work. Well, that didn't intimidate me much, but each time I took the long drive home, I could have sworn I felt a dark presence watching my every movement. At night, as I lay in bed in that same feeling of being watched arose in me. I saw this dark figure with a flaming eye glare at me from my closet. First, it was just a wing, and then another wing. His feet appeared immediately afterward. Oh, for an entire week this thing stalked me, robbing me of my sleep.

I held my covers firmly over my face by the time I saw his terrible, hideous eye. He spoke out to me in a voice only I could hear. That mocking giddy voice continues to haunt me. Officer McKenzie raised an eyebrow. So, um, this preacher from a country you never heard of kept you up at night and whispered to you? Officer McKenzie smashed the end of his cigarette butt onto the ashtray. I understand being petrified by an urban legend, but what are we supposed to do about it? The interviewee shook his head defiantly.

No. He don't understand. He shaking returned, more violent and unprevert than earlier. He snatched me away in the night and took me to his world. He put his disgusting body on top of me and pressed down against me. Oh, my ribcage has hurt so much. I thought he'd crush him. He whispered horrible things to me and kept me as his prisoner for two months.

He broke down and banged his hands on the table. He took me back home, and he took me back home. made me do hurry things to my wife and daughter. Oh, Amelia, baby, please forgive your foolish father. Without warning, he gripped his arms and brought his forehead down onto the table. He bashed his head once, twice three times. Officer McKenzie watched the display with disturbance and ordered some of his fellow officers to restrain the man from bashing his head further.

His forehead split open, causing blood to trickle down. The ambulance was alerted to the situation an hour later, and they wheeled the man away in a gurney. That night, Officer McKenzie found himself further disturbed by what the interview he had disclosed to him. Papa Bauer? Zanzibar? Mind control? He was barely able to comprehend anything that he was informed of. In the middle of the night, he decided to conduct some research into this strange monster. A few hours on the internet proved fruitful. He was, what the natives of Zanzibar referred to, as a shatani, or an evil spirit. From the looks of it, he was giving the populace quite a scare.

Mass hysteria erupted in his wake. Some were even killed under the false notion of them being the Popabawa. He thought back to the interviewer, how his lower regions were bleeding, contributing to him collapsing from what seemed at the time to be brought. bloodlots. Well, the Popper Bauer's origins were sketchy at best. Some cite him being conjured by a sheikh who was angered by his neighbours, but, as with any curse, it backfired tremendously. It had a perverted love for the most deplorable of the cardinal sins, and in each of the cases it broke into people's homes and violated them, or possessed family

members into committing the crimes before leaving them to psychologically deterioration. from the realization behind their actions. That called to mind something that the interviewer he had mentioned about the creature making him do indescribable things to his wife and daughter. Well, Mackenzie couldn't help but cringe at the thought. So, what he apparently hates the most is when people vehemently deny his existence. He pondered. He shrugged his shoulders before yawning.

Whatever the case, he had spent too much time online researching something the very well-sounded ridiculous. Life continued normally for Officer McKenzie. He oversaw the training of new officers and wrote and filed reports on the occasional changes of the police department mandated. In July 2001, Officer McKenzie was reviewing the latest police report

that one of his lieutenants had run in. Sir, you may want to see this. Without delay, Officer McKenzie followed suit of his lieutenant to an apartment building. The road was blocked off by the ambulance. Yellow crime scene paper aligned the scene of the crime. From what the witnesses could describe, a man had jumped off the second floor through one of the windows

and had collided with the roof of a car. Not much of his body had survived the impact. Prior to his death, he complained of being stought by some back-winged monster who he blamed for his crimes of sexual abuse on his family. Even without a body, Officer McKenzie didn't. didn't have difficulty with the identity of the man. Officer McKenzie excused himself from the crime scene, deciding to take a stroll. Along the way, McKenzie walked past an alleyway. Before turning around the next corner, he had a small rustle in the dumpster. Curious, he walked into the abandoned

alleyway. He readied his gun under the belief that an assailant was making that noise. When a cat's head popped up from the slashed garbage bags with a tilt, suggesting curiosity. Wait, that's a black cat, Officer McKenzie noted. The cat arched its back and jumped out of the dumpster. It landed by McKenzie's feet, let out a tiny, meow. It rubbed itself against his legs, indicating wordlessly that it wanted to be picked up. Mackenzie sighed and complied to the feline's wishes. I guess you can come home with me.

You arrive back home with the cat in town. He was greeted by his wife and his son. His wife planted a kiss on his cheek while almost not noticing the feline in his hands. Dear, she asked, why is there a cat? Oh, I found this little scoundrel in the alleyway when I was notified of an incident. His wife shook her head. I've heard about what happened. I hate that the man took his own life.

Oh, how tragic. The couple's young son's. son became enamored by the cat, naming it George W. Bush. The two would often seclude themselves to play with each other. The currencies began to before the home. Items were disappearing, and then there was knocking throughout the home. The couch and other sofa were getting clawed upon by George W. Bush, and from there on, Officer McKenzie placed George W. Bush in the garage. Nevertheless, hysterious happenings were continuing to plague the family. one night after a grueling hour of work officer mackenzie collapsed onto his bed and immediately slipped into sleep around eight a chill ran down his spine for some unknown reason before he could comprehend what was happening he found his eyes wandering towards his closet which was now open he tried to rationalize it as just being the case of a gust of wind but he stopped in his thoughts when he saw something large

protruding from the closet. In the moonlight, he could make out a batwing. However, it belonged to what may as well have been a larger species than the one native to his county. You have yet to believe that I exist. Well, Mackenzie wanted to scream, but he felt something pressing down firmly on his abdomen. His arms were glued to his size, just as paralyzed. The door creaked open further, when the wing began to beat in an up and down fashion. The scent of sulphur filled the room. Another bat wing emerged from the closet. The monster's footsteps echoed on the floor.

The large frame of the creature erupted from the restricted space. What Mackenzie saw next was the creature's singular flaming eye. The Popabawa darted at Mackenzie like a speeding bullet. It swept the chief of police on the same. off his feet and made for the window-sill. Mackenzie's wife shot awake from the sound of the glass breaking. Mackenzie regained consciousness and awoke to find himself in a strange realm. Within the realm, he saw what appeared to be emaciated skeletons in piles around the pop of

Balwa. The realm was laced with a yellow tinge, explaining the smell of sulfur. Where am I? officer mackenzie finally asked with popa bawa acted hurt you don't remember me as your cat i was certain that you would recognize me officer mackenzie's eyes widened he went to pick himself up but he was paralyzed the large bat monster towered over him pauper bawa bent downwards with a demented smile on his face i'm so happy to have a new playmate I once knew this man who also refused to believe in me. I stought him relentlessly for weeks until I drove him, man. The grip that Popper Bauer had on Mackenzie increased.

Mackenzie felt his ribcage straining from the monster's weight. If the Popper Bauer didn't relent, his ribcage would be crushed into paste in no time. Warm blood was seeping out of Mackenzie's mouth. His words came out in a garbled hush. But please, Papa Bauer, what do you want from me? The Papa Bauer's sadistic smile flared again. You didn't believe I existed. That other fool also believed I did not exist.

I kept him in my realm for a solid week. But the rules of my world did not even begin to resemble your own. He caught Mackenzie's cheek with one of his single-fingered hands. The weight was now becoming unbearable. I can't decide whether to emasculate you here or now crush you to nothingness. Neither one is a fine idea for me. McKenzie's bones were on the brink of splintering. He was done for, he thought.

His lungs were getting compressed, as with his lower body. He was losing consciousness quickly. His eyes glazed over from the restriction of oxygen flow. I'll tell others. Please. the last thing he heard was the shrill laughter from pop-a-bop he felt himself drifting away certain that he was about to enter the pearly gates the creature's eye was glowing deeper remember to tell the others about what happened to you or it'll be worse next time beep beep a blaring alarm stirred mackenzie away somehow he was in the middle of a four-way lane his close were missing. More alarm sounded as irritated drivers slammed down on their horns.

Fully awake now, McKenzie sprinted to the side and called his wife. His wife was noticeably upset, even though he felt that he was only gone for an hour. She arrived with fresh clothes and embraced her husband. We all thought she was dead, dear. What? I was only gone for an hour. They returned home, the first person greeting them being their son. But, well, something felt off about the development. Before he'd been kidnapped by the Popper Bower, his son was still young, and yet the boy before him was now 23 years old.

Like his mother, he hugged his perplexed father. Son, what happened? Mackenzie inquired. When did you grow up so fast? His son was confused. I got older, Dad, he replied. But how can you be? I wasn't gone that long. His son had a look of depression on his face.

Dad, you were gone for 15 years. My name is Maxwell Lawson. And I have a unique career. I hunt demons. Yes, demons. Those nasty, supernatural, devilish creatures. I live in the heart of Texas. in the middle of the state in the city of San Antonio.

It's a large city that lies of the crossings of desert, coastal flats, rocky hills and forests. It's a good city, with a great cost of living and a perfect end, virtually equal proximity to anywhere else in the state. The food is also fantastic. There's a rich cultural history here as well, with Latin American and German influences being the most prevalent. Not to mention that San Antonio is our nation's seventh largest city. It's also one of our largest military cities as well.

I work for the Texas Rangers, but I'm not exactly a Texas Ranger per se. I was trained under the Rangers after leaving the Marine Corps due to an honorable discharge. I'd suffered an injury during an operation in Afghanistan. My foot was blown off due to an explosion that occurred at an unduly. disclosed encampment. I have a prosthetic that serves me just fine these days. I was also honourably discharged for another reason as well. You see, I have an ability, call it a sixth sense, if you will.

I can see things, well, premonitions in a way. I get these dreams that stay rooted in my memory and are often prophetic. I can sense when something is about to, uh, go down, so to speak. I also have a very capable skill of fighting and hand-to-hand combat. I can almost see an opponent's move before it happens. I'm not a very large fellow, though. I stand about 5'8 and weigh about 176 pounds, but I'm very disciplined at my craft of fighting and fitness. I don't like weight training personally, but do just enough to keep my strength above average. Oh, and I hate cardio.

I keep in shape by playing basketball and racquetball primarily. I do, however, fastidiously train in my own devised martial arts, weapons training and meditation. Now, I stated that I hunt demons, which is a very broad and vague statement. There are many levels and ranks of demons, ranging from impish troublesome creatures all the way up to the mighty and distinguished demon dukes, lords and presidents. The ones I hunt are the minor ones, in the grand scheme of things.

Now, these minor demons are capable of horrific acts of gruesome physical, spiritual and psychological terror. They're not to be taken lightly under any known circumstances. Some possess insidious malice, cruelty and brutality, while others are simply mischievous, and even comical and funny. Some demons are literally helpful and benevolent in their nature. There is one thing that all demons have in common, though.

They all come from hell. Because of this, they are all inherently evil. Even the most benevolent of the demons have an evil and dark agenda and should never, under any circumstances, be trusted even in the slightest. They serve their masters and their own agendas. even when summoned by a skillful demonologist. Now, to fight a demon or an evil spirit is very tricky. The phrase, it takes one to no one, is profoundly applicable in these situations.

All of the weapons I use and all of the tactics I employ are, what I like to say, demonized. My standby is a modified custom 357 magnum, with an extended barrel that extends two inches further than a traditional, 357. It's a deep indigo, with an ivory inlay that was hand-carved from the tusk of an elephant that Pope John Paul II blessed personally. The medal forced to create this gun was retrieved in a cask of ancient holy water that was over 500 years old. The rusted hunk of metal was honed and honed over and over again to create the barrel. The bullets are always blessed by the caseload by a representative from the Vatican in Italy.

The insignia on the handle was that of a cross that was made inside of a pentagram. The insignia symbolized the paradoxical nature of our existence. This insignia was also created in an emblem that I wore on a necklace, as well as a tattoo in the center of my chest, with five stars branded around the tattoo. The insignia was cursed in a literal sense, but not in a dangerous manner. The insignia would glow slightly

and radiate heat from the handle of the gun when I was near any demons or evil entities. I also had three custom throwing knives of blessed steel and three ceramic ones as well, undetectable by metal detectors. I had two nine-millimeter glock custom pistols with holsters on each ankle. I also have two small swords,

forged from the same metal my gun was made, from. The swords, as well as all my other weapons, bore the engraved phrase, non-timable mala, which is Latin for, I will fear no evil. We also had an array of disguises that were essential for infiltrating cults and maintaining secrecy. Aside from my birth name, Max, I had three other aliases that I utilized. They were Mark Withers, Corey Altmaier, and Vigert. to Lamsky. My linguistics was my weakness, though, only speaking English and poorly executed Spanish. I'd lost track of the cost of all my weapons and equipment when it hit $300,000. I was paid handsomely for most of my missions. I did, however, take on many charity pro bono cases. My benefactors were

wealthy private businessmen, state government law enforcement and federal government agencies such as the CIA. I was a fairly wealthy man, but lived a solitary life, seldom calling upon the company of others. I had few relations with women as well. Attachments became liabilities in this business. I love what I do, but it's not the life for a social butterfly. I've always been a very easy-going guy, soft-spoken and shy, but confident and tactful. Oh, and I love cats. I have three. I have three. Puka, Chucky and Athena. I received a ping from my dark web contact who went by the name Dark Angel the other day.

I can't divulge his real name or whereabouts for the sake of anonymity. Dark, which is what I called him, had some information about a cult presence developing in the border city of Eagle Pass, Texas. There were reports of a pestilence that was killing livestock and house pets. Some 16 dogs, 20 cats,

and dozens of chickens and goats were reported missing or dead. The dead animals that were recovered were totally void of their eyes, teeth, nails, and much of their skin, but otherwise intact. I picked up my gear, jumped into my custom rebuilt Ford Bronco, and went to my occult contact. Her name was Agnietta Contreras, a small and slightly heavyset Hispanic woman in her 60s. I pulled into her driveway, which was a small. two-bedroom house in south side of San Antonio. I walked in. Agie, it's Max, I said. Aye, my-ho, she said cheerfully, as she came in from the kitchen.

I kissed her on the cheek and said, I need the usual. I'm heading to Eagle Pass on a job. I may need to cross the border. Sure, sure, sit down. I just made coffee, she said as she patted me on the back. Well, I don't have much time. I, I started to say, no, no, she snapped at me. You have time. Hegel Pass isn't going anywhere, she said laughingly. I just made meekas and steaks and fresh tortillas. She said with dutiful excitement. Well, my stomach began to growl at the sight and smell of the food she was finishing up, her cooking was the stuff of legends. She made homemade flour tortillas and coffee and juice. The coffee was always strong and wonderfully brewed via French press.

The silver cream boat and sugar cup was already on the table. I can't turn down your breakfast, that's for sure. I laughed and said. I began to devour the megas, which was a common concoction of scrambled eggs, corn tortilla chips and cheese. The steak was a thin-cut saline that was ever so tender and perfectly cooked as well. I'm going to need the usual, for board omissions that is, I told her with a mouthful of food. I put the tackle box on the table for her. When she took it from me and said, Okay, let me get the stuff ready for you.

She brought out the box filled with herbs to put in my tea packets that she made from scratch. There were also packets of blessed substances that were for me to take on my journey. She also had a dark web contact that supplied her with fresh opium That I could put in a tiny marijuana pipe and smoke if I had any injuries Taking three or four drags from an opium pipe was like popping percassette or two only no paper trail Oh, you are the best I said as I gave her a big hug and a kiss I know I am and don't you forget it she said to me with a wry smile I laughed back at her

"'Hey, where's Carlos?' I asked. "'He's at the store for me today. "'My ankle is hurting too bad.' "'Me need anything when I get back?' I asked. "'Just two gallons of milk, sweetie. "'If you can,' she replied. "'Okay, well do. "'You know how to reach me, if you need anything else.'

"'I said, as I left for the trip. "'She was like a second mother to me, "'as mine had passed away due to a fatal car accident. The trip was wholly uneventful and took about two hours. The contact gave me the location of the mansion on the outskirts of town right on the border. As soon as I reached town, I noticed something in a field to my left about a hundred feet off the shoulder. I jumped out of the truck and sensed to the evil immediately. It felt like an ever so minute spike of adrenaline.

This was due to the ability I possessed. It was the carcass of an animal. maybe a goat or a dog. As I approached, I realised it was a goat. It didn't smell too bad, as it looked like it was dead for only about ten hours or so. I examined the animal with latex gloves from the tackle box that were provided for me. The eyes were gone, and the hooves had been removed as well.

The goat was otherwise intact and untouched. This was a senseless waste and cruel. There was so much. many bizarre rituals being performed everywhere. Every ritual has its quirks too. These rituals were like entertainment for demons. The goal is to attract and produce an alluring atmosphere for them. This goat could feed a family with its meat for a week or milk for an indefinite period of time. I knew I was close now. I jumped back into the truck and headed toward the GPS coordinates provided for me by my dark web contact. I checked the weather report. I checked the weather report.

for the afternoon in Eagle Pass, and it was forecasting sunny skies and highs of around 100 degrees Fahrenheit. The sky was becoming an obscure, dark green, grey colour, totally opposite of what the forecast had indicated. Lightning began to pepper the ground frequently. No rain had begun to fall, however. This was common during a demonic episode. Dark skies, lightning with no rain. I always approaching the mansion when I noticed that there was a sophisticated security system surrounding the property. There were about six or seven vehicles parked outside of the building. I waited until nightfall before making my move. I parked the truck about a quarter mile away and cover the truck with a camouflage tarp that was supplied by my tactical equipment contact. I started the hike

back toward the mansion at around midnight, reaching the perimeter in about 20 minutes or so. I'd found a hole in the fencing near the back side of the house. I took out a pair of night vision binoculars and could see two guards by the back entrance to the large house. I was able to creep up to within six feet of the guards, which was perfect distance for my throwing knives. I procured two of them, which were very capable of taking down someone in minutes.

Now, throwing knives are not like in the movies, where you can throw it from 20 feet away and kill some. someone silently. Oh, I use them with a special toxin that will put someone to sleep in a matter of three minutes or so. This instant killed garbage was all Hollywood. Throwing knives take a lot of practice. They are a lot of fun if you can master them, but it's all about repetition, repetition, repetition. I could hit a dart-sized bullseye from about ten feet, nine out of ten throws, and that took months of practice to get so accurate. They were totally silent, though,

and excelled within the element of surprise. I threw on first at the guy on the left and hit him in the back. He yelled and said, What the f? And then dropped in about 20 seconds. The second guy stooped over to see what happened to his partner. I hit that guy in the back of the shoulder. He pulled out the knife and said,

Then clasped as well. They would be out for an hour or so, so I had to move quickly. I took the overcoat and hat from one of the guards I'd subdued and put them on. I strolled into the vast living room. It had been converted into a dark magic chapel. There was an altar the size of a car in the rear centre of the room. It was covered in blood, but I wasn't sure from what. I strolled near to the back of the room, pretending to make rounds as a guard would do.

I noticed there was a man in a dark robe at the back of the altar, who was chanting in tongues of some sort. I knew the sound of demon summoning when I heard it. The ghastly sight of two flayed and butchered ghosts sat upright on stilted spikes as sacrifices. Above the man chanting was a black hole that was rotating in a circular motion. my gun and chest emblem began to glow, indicating it was showtime. I needed to get these demons as soon as they crossed over, or they would unleash carnage. My intel explained that these demons were summoned for the destruction of a rival cartel. Now, we can do without more cartels in the world, but these fools were summoning demons that could wreak havoc and end the lives of countless innocent people.

I waited in my disguise to see what kind and how many demons were about to show up. When I saw them appear, I knew what they were right away. These were a lesser demon called grimules. They were command and kill assassins. They always followed the conjurer's orders as long as he or she was alive. They're aimless when not under command and tend to wander the earth, killing indiscriminately. They were a four on the demon power scale of one to ten. This scale was very much like the pain scale, ten being the most powerful.

Grimals can move very quickly and had a deadly strike. They stand about six feet tall and have large bulbous heads with tall bat-like ears. They don't fly, but can teleport about twice an hour. They're not very intelligent, but a deadly nonetheless. They were thin and wiry, with hands five times that of a man's, with a razor-sharp claws. They have an appearance that resembles a humanoid form that is also bipedal. Their main advantages were their speed, agility, and the poisonous claws. Wounds from these demons grow gangrenous in a matter of hours.

Basically, grimauds are the low-ranking hitmen of hell, so to speak. But their main disadvantage was their carelessness. I've handled several of these guys in the past and wasn't too worried. The summoner must be kept alive, or the demons would disperse somewhere else, sometimes back to hell or to another place on earth. And just like me, they can sense and smell me as well. They're immediately attracted to a fight, no matter how big the adversary, making them both dangerous but stupid and predictable.

I quietly left the summoning room and went into the long halls, looking for the demons. They were in the house awaiting instructions from the conjurer. My amulet glowed brighter as I got closer and closer. The rooms were pitch black. I put on my night-vision goggles. I could hear debris being tossed and tumbled in one of the rooms ahead. I pulled out a pouch of powder from my pocket and took a pinch, between my thumb and forefinger. The powder is ground human bones, as used as an attractant or a diversion.

I snapped my finger with a powder and puffed out. Then its ghastly scream erupted. It sounded like the combination of a screaming woman blended with a swine squeal. God, you guys are always so damn noisy, I said aloud, as one of them erupted out of one of the rooms and into the hallway to face me. I had my revolver ready as it started toward me with unholy and unnatural speed. I drew and fired at the demon. The bullet hit with a hiss that made the demon's glowing red body turn black and explode into fine black ashen powder. The powder then disappeared immediately, as if nothing had happened. I changed the song on my headphones to Iron Maiden's Aces High, and said, one down, one more to go.

Iron Maiden was my favourite heavy metal band. I proceeded further and heard a rush and screeching sound behind me. I whirled around to see the other one climbing on the ceiling. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that they were excellent climates. I spun on my heel and fell to my back, facing upward underneath the creature and fired. It erupted. in a cloud of black ash that fell all over my face.

Oh, damn it, I hate it when that happens. I cursed in frustration as the black ash began to disintegrate. And now it was time to eliminate the conjurer. The conjurer must be confronted before being killed. The confrontation part is for the disruption of the conjuring. The realization must be met by the conjurer. Once this occurs, the portal. will begin to close. Killing a kundra before he has the chance to stop can cause a portal to not

be fully closed, and these half-closed portals were called rips. The reason to kill the kundra was for preventative measures. There cannot be the element of risk that these conjurers will do it again. A leftover rip can cause further infestations and hauntings from not only demons but malevolent spirits as well. Killing the conjure is the safest and easiest way to stop the cycle. Rips take three skilled conjurers to close.

I went into the main chamber and found the man who was completed the conjuring on a cell speaking Spanish to someone on the other line. He was explaining the situation regarding a rival cartel across the border. That's all I could surmise anyway.

I gave the guy a whistle, making him jump in surprise. Who the hell are you? He said. Your worst nightmare, I said. I know, I know, cheesy and cliche, but I couldn't resist. You've opened a portal of untold evil, and you must either turn yourself in to the authorities or die. Choose now, I said routinely, like I've said it dozens of times before. Die, no, my friend, you are going to die, he said. You are going to die, he said. "'I summon thee to kill this man,' he commanded out loud. "'Nothing happened.

"'Oh, they're gone, as well as your portal,' I said, "'as the portal began to shrink and disappear.' "'No, it can't be,' he said incredulously. "'Fraid so, buddy,' I responded. "'Get him! Now!' he called to his men on a walkie-talkie. I crouched down behind a large metal statue and waited. I saw four men approach with silenced handguns. A barrage of bullets came at me as I was crouched behind the statue.

I crouched down low to make myself as small a target as possible. I then took aim and shot one of the men in the chest and the other in the head. The two were firing wildly at me as I began to roll low to the right. one of the bullets grazed my forearm I could feel the beasting light jolt of pain erupt in my arm and damn it you're getting sloppy and overconfident I taught myself in frustration

I trained my gun and shot a third henchman in the chest I took aim at the last one as he'd ducked behind the altar with the boss man I missed as the bullet tore a chunk of concrete from the corner of the altar The bullets I use were a very high-quality hollow point. Being that my armour was also blessed meant that it could effectively combat demons,

as well as regular villains, of course. The remaining henchmen threw a canister of what appeared to be tear gas. Oh, shit, I said, as I pulled out a fine cloth bandana to cover my mouth and nose. It helped a little, as long as I kept low. I saw a figure walking in the gassy mist with a gas mask on I took aim and put a bullet through his temple I then grabbed the boss man by the collar and dragged him outside the house and said

You really begin to piss me off now So you have one chance to turn yourself into the authorities Who are on their way Or die right here, right now Your choice The sound of distant sirens began to emanate from me the end of the street. Fine. I'll turn myself in. Just don't kill me. He pleaded. I didn't have a choice. They kidnapped my cousin in Guadalajara. I had to do something.

He pleaded. You chose this life on your own. You'll have your day in court like everyone else. I said, as two police officers began to cuff him. The eagle passed PD was informed of my presence and was told not to appear until I gave the signal. The signal was a simple GPS beacon that resembled a small remote control. I used this to call in the local cavalry when arrests were to be made. Well, after packing up my equipment

and cleaning my gun with a blessed, sacral vial vial of gun oil, I jumped back in the truck. The drive was the longest two hours of my life. The tear gas and adrenaline wore me out and sleep wanted to come in a bad way. I stopped at a convenience store to get a can of high gravity cheap malt liquor

and a 10 ounce orange juice. I mixed it together and poured it on ice. I took a long drink of the concoction that I called the poor man's brass monkey. Hey, it's my one vice. I enjoy one every day. I also remembered to pick up Aggie a couple of gallons of milk as well.

I finally came home and plopped down on the couch and Pooker, the more affectionate of my three cats, jumped up on my lap. I fell asleep in minutes until I was awoken by a sound. I awoke, somewhat disoriented and looked around. My computer pinged. On the screen, dark had left me a message on my home page that said, We have a situation in El Paso. I sighed and groaned.

I slept for about seven hours and was quite rested until my laptop pinged again with another message from dark. Feeling spontaneous? He's always such a smart ass. I laughed and replied. Okay, what's up? I logged off of the computer and called the number on the business card

he'd given me over three years ago. The phone rang twice. Pedro's eye sales. Ricky speaking, the voice on the other line responded. Hey bro, it's Max, I responded. Well, if it isn't my old friend Maxwell, hey, you know, you still owe me ten bucks, he cheerfully replied. I know, I know.

Look, I'll pay you back, dude. I said, while smiling into the phone. You know I'm just giving you a hard time. It is my job, you know, he said. I don't get to see you very often, and I have to get my jab's in whenever I can, he cheerfully added. So, what's up, man? My omission? He asked over a cacophony of bar traffic noises in the background. You know it. Look, can I come tomorrow morning, see, around 9am? I asked. 9 a.m. damn, why so freaking early? he asked. I need to get an early

start, driving to El Paso tomorrow. Yeah, I'll be there, and you will bring breakfast, said. Okay, you got it. See you then, I answered, and then hung up. Ricky was my equipment contact. He supplied me with any tactical equipment that I needed for any mission anywhere. There was nothing he did not have, or at least couldn't get hold of in a day or two. Our friendship had blossomed over the last few years. He was always there for me, just like a brother that I'd never had. There were times when I needed items to assist me during a in different terrain, weather or location. Ricky and Aggie were my suppliers for everything, demon-related, so to speak.

I was going to need some desert survival equipment for this mission. This mission was one of those border missions that often occurred, due to a strong occult presence along and sometimes across the border. The West Texas town of El Paso was near the New Mexico state line and on the Mexican border. Just on the other side of the border was the Mexican town of Juarez. It was your typical Mexican border town, full of shops, stands, and carts of vendors selling their wares to eager and gullible tourists.

There was a disturbance occurring in Juarez that was leading to the deaths of three men and five missing tourists. The tourists were a bunch of younger guys that were in search of adventure. Unfortunately, this sort of thing happens all the time in these towns. The thing that made this a case worthy of my involvement were the reports of an entity that was all too familiar to me. It was what they called Diablo de deserado, which stood for the devil of the desert. Word tests spread quickly in these situations, even in these towns of relatively low income.

Sulfomes were becoming easier and easier to obtain, even in the low income parts of these towns. origins and superstitions abound as well. Many people are skeptical of these superstitions, but I personally know all too well that there is truth to many of these situations. I was most likely looking for Zorvitz. These were demons that tended to be fairly large in size, around seven to nine feet tall. They usually had the appearance of a huge bipedal ogre-like being. They have a deep red appearance with two large, large, ram-like horns with all black eyes and no pupils. They have a wild, boar-like nose and tusks about six inches long.

They're muscular and fairly conventional in appearance, at least as far as what people think of when they see a demon. Many demons have a very bizarre corporeal appearance, but not this one. Their advantages are that they are very strong and able to throw things as large as a car up to seven to eight feet. They can also breathe fire almost always on command. Like most demons, they were immune

to any type of fire and heat. They were fairly intelligence, never ponchon for capturing and torturing their captors. On the demon power scale, they were about of five. They were often summoned for murderous or vengeful purposes,

like many of them are. Their weaknesses were the cold. They could often be defeated, by cold tactics. They have poor eyesight as well. Hand-to-hand combat with these things was strongly ill-advised due to their thick hides.

Brute force, however, was the best way to banish them. I composed a list for this mission using what I knew about these things. I jumped into my custom for Bronco and headed over to Ricky's place with my list in pocket. What you need is a case of these babies,

Ricky said. They can fit into you. your favorite gun too, he added, with a devious smile. He showed me a case of six bullets with liquid nitrogen core. Upon impact on a target, they would not only produce a wound, but they would also freeze up to six inches in diameter upon impact. There was a capsule that exploded upon hitting a target that would release the nitrogen and pack quite a punch as well. Hey, how many of these do you have? I asked him. Only one case of six. so you'll have to use them wisely, he instructed.

He also provided me two canisters of liquid nitrogen, about a quart in size each, with a spray attachment. They look like miniature fire extinguishes. Ricky also provided me with some water purification tablets, night vision goggles and a camel pack that could carry up to a gallon of water in it. He also had a really cool dust mask protector that was in the shape of a bandana for the dust. environment I was about to enter.

We sat and ate tacos together for about half an hour before I hit the road. I packed the items into my backpack, along with a case of nitro bullets and two extra regular canteens of water. In the harsh desert environment, the temperature can reach close to 110 degrees Fahrenheit during the day. Keeping two water canteen surplus was always a wise idea in these situations. Feeling confident that I had ever been a very important that I had ever, everything I needed to get the job done without dying in the desert. I filled up the Bronco and

hit the road. The long, monotonous drive to El Paso was uneventful. Miles and miles of scrubby desert and not much else lay between me and my destination. I had an arrangement with the Border Patrol, but I had a special spot that I was going to cross covertly. I didn't want to be noticed very much in this environment. Stealth and the element of surprise was imperative. I wore a desert camera outfit that blended fairly well into the environment as well. I'd reach the coordinates of the gate entry spot.

Part of the truck, it began preparing for the walk. This walk was to be about four miles through relatively unforgiving terrain during September. It was hot, dry and dusty. I sipped on water continuously all the while I was walking

the distance because dehydration can take you down in a matter of hours if not prepared. I took the walk during the day because I was to reach the destination by nightfall. I popped open my phone and checked how far I was against the coordinates. The coordinates were to an outcropping of old ruined buildings in the middle of the desert and about 15 minutes away by car from the town of Hwere. I saw that my destination was or should have been. in view by now, but it wasn't. I began to get that feeling in my gut, that I was close. I possessed a talent of foresight above and beyond normal people, so I knew my intuitions would be

correct. It was nightful by now, so I procured my night vision scope headset. I scanned around to see if I could see where the coordinates were leading me to, and then, just barely, I saw it. An outcropping of dilapidated buildings were west of me about a quarter of a mile away or so. It was three stone structures that were missing blocks from the walls and were roofless for the most part. My amulets on my chest glowed slightly, so I knew I was close. Twenty or so minutes passed as I reached the outer edge of the ruins, and the smell hit me like a freight train. It was the smell of death and decay, mixed with the same. mixed with the odour of burning sulphur.

I had an iron-clad stomach, so to speak, but even this was a bit nauseating for me. I could hear voices echoing from within the ruins as I crept in to get a closer look. What I saw relieved me greatly. The young men that were missing were apparently all here. Well, there was what appeared to be four of the five missing men. I crept up and quickly put my finger out in front of my mouth to silence the four guys that were tied to a pillar in the center of the room.

It seemed too easy that they were right out in the open for me to see. I smelled a trap. I took a pebble off of the floor, the ancient room, and tossed it toward the four chained men, and it exploded into a mini fireball when it was two feet away from the captured prisoners. Yep, it was a fire circle, a typical trap to lure unsuspecting victims to a fiery death when an escape mission was executed. Oh, shit, I thought to myself. I was going to have to find and vanquish this demon before I could get these guys loose. Where did it go? I whispered.

They didn't know, but I knew it was close. I could sense it nearby. I decided to use a tactic that would draw out most demons from their hiding places. These particular demons were not very adept with mental torture. They preferred good old-fashioned brutality over anything else. This made it a bit easier for me to devise a plan to get this SOB and get these guys out of here safe and without further losses. I procured a small leather pouch with a human bone dust in it.

Human bone dust was like an attractant, in the sense that demons would sense and smell. I often used this dust to draw out demons from their hiding places. I sprinkled about a quarter of a teaspoon in the entryway to the room that held the four remaining survivors that were imprisoned with the fire column. I set a tripwire line that pulled a small brick down onto the plunger of one of the liquid nitrogen tanks. The tank would spray onto the demon upon entry to the room as long as the demon was in its corporeal thought. Zoravids were rarely not in their corporeal form. Don't say a word, I whispered to the guy's chain to the pillar.

One of the boys was breathing heavily at this point. What's wrong with him? I asked the group. He's diabetic, and his medicine is in our car, at our hotel. One of the young men answered. Keep him calm and encourage him to try to rest and take deep breaths. they should all be over in about 15 minutes. I calmly instruct it. The events that took place next were the epitome of chaos in the strongest sense of the work.

I placed the bone dust near the archway door to the room with a nitrogen tank booby trap ready. I loaded the six nitro shells into my revolver and waited. The trap guys were actually somewhat safe where they were at the moment. I hid behind the door with my revolver in hand and ready to go. I could hear the thunderous grunting sound, followed by heavy footfalls growing closer and closer. The footfall stopped somewhere outside the door. I then stepped out in front of the doorway, facing the demon.

Oh, it was a big one too, standing close to ten feet tall and wearing an obscure set of armour. His body was extremely muscular, and its head looked like a wild boar. Smoke was hissing from all over the body of the thing. It met my gaze and made a roar that sounded more like a grisly bear on steroids. It carried a mace made of steel with sharp spikes. It swung the mace in a display of aggression

and destroyed the wall to its right, crumbling it to bits. It began to have this hideous, gargling laugh as it approached closer. All right, you stupid, nasty, unholy son of a bitch. It's time for you to go back from where you came from. I yelled at it. It smiled deviously, with its face resembling a wild boar crossed with a mythical giant. Now, many demons don't talk much, and these were included in that group.

They only roared, groaned, screeched and wailed. I then watched, as the demon hit the tripwire, sending the tilted stone falling on the plunger of the tank. The white mist shot out from the canister right into the demon's midsection. It roared in pain and anger as the lower right half of its torso was blackened and darked. It roared a streak of fire at me from its mouth, at the same rate of a military flamethrower. I jumped behind a pile of rubble and was just able to escape. escape the flame. I drew my custom 357 revolver with the special nitro shells, took aim and then fired.

The bullet hit the demon on the left shoulder, causing it to darken and hiss. Oh, they worked. Those damn bullets work pretty damn well. I made sure to keep something large between the demon and me. I was knocked to the ground as the demon threw a handful of stones and rocks. collided with the side of my head and sent me to the ground, somewhat dazed. I looked up to see the mace coming down on me. I rolled to the right twice before firing two more bullets into the thing's chest. It roared in anger and was pursuing me, wildly throwing debris around, feverishly trying to get to me. All the while, its blood-red cat's eyes were held firmly

gazing into mine as it thrashed around trying to get to me. I was up. right now and took aim and fired. A black hiss erupted as one of the demon's eyes and left ear was blackened by the special ammunition. Two bullets left, I thought. I knew I needed to use these wisely and I needed to get closer. It was clambering toward me in a limping and irregular pattern. The demon was crippled a bit, but not as all out of the game yet. I drew my revolver once again and sent the last two bullets into the thing's midsection. It roared, either in pain or anger. Most demons did not feel pain like you or I would, though.

This demon was hobbling around and trying to get in closer to me. I was now out of bullets. It was time for a bit of hand-to-hand combat. I reached back with both hands and gripped the twin side. saws that lay in a custom scabbard mate of it snugly and unobtrusively on my back. The swords made an audible shrink as I pulled them out and readied myself. The demon was growling and staring at me with its one good eye left. The thing had an advantage of having substantial reach that was superior to mine.

I waited for the demon to take a swing with its mace. When its arm came down, I tilted to the left and rolled. out of the wave of the mace as it crashed into the stone floor, leaving a crater two feet deep. I waited for his next attack, which came in the form of another swing of its mace. I dashed forward, away from the arc of its swing, and spun 360 degrees with the blades of my saws lashing at the demon's chest, causing black hissing wounds two feet long into its midsection. It was really pissed off now, but it was injured. I was making progress, but time was running out.

The diabetic boy was nearly unconscious now, and I knew he needed medical attention in the next half hour. So I went on the offensive this time, as the demon started to charge me while hobbling and smashing into the walls of the ruins. I slid forward, avoiding its grasp and plunge my swords into the demon's chest. This seemed to do a great deal of damage, and caused the demon to fall to the ground. I pulled out the swords and went for the head, but was knocked back as the demon grabbed my leg.

Its grip was like that of a hot iron, so I brought one of the swords down on the creature's wrist. It didn't cut all the way through, but it did force the demon to release its grip. I now began to have the upper hand. My head was still throbbing off and the rubble that had been thrown at me. I had a few cuts on the side of my head that were leaking a lot of blood from them. I must have looked like a demon myself, I thought humorously. Blood coated the left half of my face and was stinging my eyes. The demon began to square off with me while letting out a deep, angry grunt.

He was smiling maniacally, as if I was a freshly cooked steak about to be eaten. What she got? Come on, come and get me, I taunted the demon. I was ready with the remaining tank of liquid nitrogen at my side. Roared like a drooling snarl and began its charge toward me, wielding the gigantic mace. God, if he hits me, it lights out, I thought, as I made my stance. My training took over subconsciously as I breathed deeply as it approached. At this point, it all seemed like slow motion.

It began to run toward me, swinging its mace up high, about to crush anything under it with a mighty crash. As the mace came down, I rolled forward, ducking under its swing. I then plunged the swords into the chest of the demon. It again led out a maniacal scream as it began to breathe fire. The flames caught my right arm, and sicked. singed it with a nasty second-degree burn. Oh, that's going to leave a mark, they said, as I was wincing in pain, gripping at my arm. The demon stood there with my two swords sticking out of its chest.

Its skin was blackening around the swords, and I knew I was about to finish this guy off. I took the other canister of liquid nitrogen and put it on the floor, and then backed away. I wasn't sure if this would work, but it was worth a try. Here goes, I said out loud. I threw a rock and hit the demon in the arm, and it turned toward me. It began to walk forward and was right on top of the canister. I drew my jewel-glock nine-millimeter pistols and shot the canister with four or five bullets. The canister erupts sideways and coated only the demon's feet.

Oh, shh, I said aloud, as I noticed that it didn't spray up like I'd hoped. Luck was on my side, though, as the demon fell down to the ground in a mighty thud. Its right foot had broken off, causing the demon to fall. I retrieved my sword and plunged them into the eyes. The demon then hissed and exploded in a fine black ash that was disintegrating before my eyes. The firing was eliminated And I freed the guys that were chained up I called for an ambulance for the diabetic one

And then waited for the emergency services to come Three men entered the room One of them was a nicely dressed Hispanic male About 30 years of age With two huge bodyguards I called to them One of these men needs help Quick

We decide who gets help Hormand The smaller man said with a cocky disposition. Chain whip this fuck, boys, he said with childlike glee. Damn it. Of all the times a gang boss has to show up, it has to be right now, I said, with my head in my hands. Look, guys, just go about your business, and I'll spare your lives, I told the leader,

while looking into his eyes. Listen to the little bitch try to threaten us, the gang boss said, as he's, his henchmen started laughing. Get this asshole, the boss said. I assessed the threat of the two big men with long chains that they were whipping about. The left man took a swing with his chain from side to side, which I ducked by dropping to the floor while drawing one of my nine millimeter pistols. I shot the guy in the foot, dropping him instantly, hearing him yell in pain.

The other guy was already attacking with his chain. It connected with my left arm. knocking me to the ground. My energy was getting critically low, and I needed to finish this guy off. I got up and staggered backwards and procured one throwing knife that was dipped in a toxin that induces sleep

within about 30 seconds to a minute. I waited for him to approach, and when he got about eight feet from me, I threw the knife directly into his centre mass, and it hit him in the chest. He yelled and tore the knife out and flung it aside. Good night, sleepy head.

I smiled as he began to stagger and then fell to the floor motionless. I turned to the boss to see him running away. I started to pursue, but he jumped into a green refurbished Chevy Impala which then sped away. You mess with the wrong dude, homie! The boss yelled as he pulled off.

I had a feeling I was going to see this punk again. I then called EMS to come for the boys that were captured and to come for the two drug cartel thugs as well. Later, I poured into the Motel 6 that was on the edge of town and rented a room for the night. I paid in cash and used the alias, Corey Altmire. I shaved, showered and locked up the door. I slept with my custom 357, in the event that there were hostile visitors about to come. After showering, they slept like a lot. I woke the next day after about ten hours of sleep.

I donned a blonde wig and put the brown-colour contact lenses in. I don't need to be dealing with cartel guys right now. No, I had to get back home to San Antonio undetected. I couldn't afford to have anyone tailing me because I was out of ammo and did not want to draw any attention. I drove back and arrived near late evening. I went into my house and plop down on the couch, only to be irritated by the sight of a hairball that Athena, one of my cats, had coughed up. I smiled inside.

When all three cats came over to greet me, Puka on my lap, and Chucky and Athena, prancing around, playing and wrestling with each other. I smiled again and said, nice to be home with you, guys. guys. I set my alarm for 9 a.m. to play Iron Maiden 666 number of the beast. The next day was laundry day and I was cleaning my equipment and getting my clothes put away. While I was tinkering around the house, I heard my laptop ping. Dark, my deep web contact, who was also a private investigator, said in an email that there's a missing person mission for me. Someone had been abducted by some guys who were really into the black magic scene. There had been some reports of weird sounds and sights happening in the vicinity of Houston,

where the woman lived. I started to get my plans together for a three-hour drive to the rough parts of downtown Houston, Texas. I'll get out there in about two days, I told my contact, as I began to get my equipment and disguises ready. There'd be no telling how many enemies I'd have to kill for this one. I chuckled to myself and said I'll cross that bridge when I come to me And so once again

We reach the end of tonight's podcast My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories And to you for taking the time to listen Now I'd ask one small favour of you Wherever you get your podcast from Please write a few nice words And leave a five-star review As it really helps the podcast

That's it for this week But I'll be back again same time and same place and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.