Michael had been trained for years, but this was different. It was his first real mission, and he was finally stepping into the world of demon hunting, not as a trainee, but as an operative.
A tall man, dressed in tactical gear, stood in front of him. "This is your first real mission, Michael," the man said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "I'm Sergeant Harris. You'll be working with this team today."
Harris introduced the others, each one nodding in acknowledgement. They weren't friends, just people who had worked together long enough to know how to operate as a team. Michael observed them quietly, noting the mix of combat veterans and specialists.
"We've been tracking a demon in this building for a couple of days," Harris continued. "It's hiding on the third floor. Your job is simple—help us clear the place and kill it. We'll handle the rest."
Michael didn't feel any particular excitement or dread. It was just another task. He nodded, acknowledging the mission.
The team moved quickly, grabbing their weapons and loading up into a van. There was no tension, no wasted words. Michael followed them, feeling the steady hum of the vehicle as they drove. His mind was focused, but not overburdened with thoughts.
When they arrived, Harris led the team toward the building. They gathered at the entrance, moving into position. Michael followed, staying alert, but without any sense of urgency. His movements were steady, just as he had been in training.
They reached the third-floor apartment and Harris kicked the door open. The moment it swung open, Michael could feel the presence of the demon. There was a faint, acrid scent in the air, something unmistakably demonic.
Harris gave a signal, and the team split up to search the apartment. Michael stayed with them, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He didn't feel fear or excitement. This was just part of the job.
The demon was waiting for them in the living room, her red skin and sharp features standing out against the bland surroundings of the apartment. Her grin was menacing, and her voice echoed with malice.
"So, you think you can stop me?" she sneered.
The team responded quickly. Harris moved in first, firing a shot. The demon let out a roar, but she wasn't done. She darted toward Harris, claws outstretched, knocking him back.
Michael watched as the team reacted, opening fire. The demon screeched in pain, but she remained standing, a force to be reckoned with.
Without hesitation, Michael aimed his weapon and fired. The shot landed, but the demon didn't fall. She was fast—too fast. The team opened fire again, and the demon flinched with every hit, but it wasn't enough to finish her.
Michael didn't have time to think about it. He aimed again, another shot aimed directly at her chest. This time, it was enough. The demon stumbled back and collapsed onto the floor, dead.
The room fell silent. The team stood still for a moment, taking in the situation. Michael didn't feel any relief or triumph. He simply observed, waiting for the next step.
Harris looked over at him, nodding slightly. "You did good."
Michael didn't respond.
As the team moved out of the apartment, Michael kept his thoughts to himself. He had done what was expected of him, and that was enough.