Pure Human - Magdalena

[Posted by Ted H]

Aaaaaaaaaaand now we enter 2016........

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[Pure Human - Magdalena]

            Eventually Blake did receive his coffee, and he was genuinely surprised when another refill came after that as his food arrived, almost as if the waitress was trying to earn a tip from him. He dug in and enjoyed his meal as best her could considering how badly burnt he felt from his throat all the way to his stomach. The coffee wasn't helping, but it was either that or a cigarette, and Blake wasn't quite willing to put something burning in his mouth so soon after the gasoline.
            He worked his way through his meal, leaving only his hash browns and a little of his pancakes. John's pancakes sat untouched. After a while, he felt watched, and not by the waitress. He looked around quick and noticed a black haired girl walking in, eyes locked in his direction. She was pale looking with bright blue eyes and just as bright red lips. She wore a tight white bodysuit with a dark jacket with a faux fur border that cradled around the back of her neck. She had black shoes and a small black purse slung across her body.
            There were several other people in the restaurant and the girl moved from each to each with her eyes. Once her gaze settled directly on Blake, they went wide as she inhaled deeply with her nose and her head went back. She then gave a huff and stormed in his direction, completely ignoring the hostess asking her if she needed a seat.
            Blake could sense a certain crazed element to her that told him there was no way she was here by chance, so he didn't even act shocked when she walked right up to his table. Instead, he chewed on a forkful of pancake and looked at her with an impatient face. The girl breathes sharply through her nose as she looked at him, but said nothing. Blake continued to keep his face looking at hers, but through his sunglasses, he looked up and down at her, trying to determine who would think an outfit like hers was practical.
            Blake swallowed his food, then immediately went back for more pancakes before resuming the stare-down. What was irritating at first was now a little entertaining. The girl was clearly trying to get a read on him, but couldn't quite place him. She was obviously waiting for him to say something, but he refused to make the first move. This noncompliance on his part was visibly frustrating her.
            "Take off those sunglasses," she finally spoke.
            "No," Blake said plainly, then looked away and went back to eating. A few moments passed before the woman spoke again. "I know you're responsible. Face me demon!"
            "What?" Blake asked as he looked back to her, even bothering to lower his sunglasses at her. The woman cocked her head to the side and looked back at him. "I sense evil in you," she said looking at his eyes "But there's something else." She sat down across the table from him, moved John's pancakes to the side with his hand and leaned in at him. "What are you?"
            "You can call me Blake. Everyone else does," Blake said as he thought about extending his hand out for a shake but thought otherwise of it "And you are?"
            "I am a warrior of the Lord," the woman said, causing Blake to stifle a laugh. He managed an eye roll behind the privacy of his sunglasses, but somehow he felt the woman knew what he just did. "You're pretty pale," Blake said "So unless you give me a name to work with, I'm just gonna have to refer to you as Whitey."
            "You are in no position to talk to me like that," Whitey said "And there's no use in hiding anymore."
            "Hide from what?" Blake asked, getting annoyed again while his pancakes, like his patience, were running low.
            "I'd rather we do this outside," Whitey said "Less chance someone gets hurt."
            "Are you sure you have the right guy?" Blake asked. He was about to fork himself some more pancake when Whitey reached over and grabbed his plate, pulling it away and hurling it across the room. "Okay," Blake said as he stood up, causing Whitey to smile and stand as well. "Outside," she commanded.
            "Nah," Blake said as he took off his trench coat and tossed it back into his booth "Whatever spectacle you're planning, just do it here. Then you can order me new pancakes." A twitch of annoyance overcame Whitey's face as she gritted her teeth and took position. She pressed her hands together as if she were praying and centered them in front of her chest. She then whispered into her hands while keeping her eyes glued to where Blake was. Blake meanwhile was pondering if it was safe enough yet to smoke a cigarette. He ignored the fact that the girls hands were now glowing.
            "Is everything okay?" the waitress asked as she approached with a broom. "We're fine," Blake said as he turned to look at her. He was about to ask about another coffee and some new pancakes when he heard Whitey cry out excitedly that he gave her the opening she needed. "Be gone, demon!" Whitey cried out as she drew her hands together at her chest, then shot one hand forward like she was pushing energy out. Nothing hit Blake though.
            Everyone had gone quiet as they stared at Whitey. A worried look came over her face as she drew her hand back and tried again. "I am a soldier of the Lord! I command you demon, back to hell!" She shot her hand forward, but again nothing had happened. Blake smiled as he stepped forward at Whitey. She drew her hands back, powerless to kill Blake as he stuck his finger out and pressed her nose. "Boop!" he said with a grin. Whitey spun around to avoid him as he then went back to sit back down.
            "I'll take another coffee," he said to the waitress, still standing nearby with a broom "And my friend here could use a menu. She's already agreed to pay for the mess she made." The waitress slowly made her way to the broken plate, being careful to avoid Whitey, then she disappeared to find a menu. Whitey meanwhile was standing in disbelief at what happened. "How?" she demanded as she sat down again across from Blake, who had pulled John's cold pancakes over and was dumping syrup on top. "How what?" Blake asked.
            "I've been following an unholy presence in this area and traced it straight to you," she said "My powers should have easily dispatched you. How was it you were able to withstand them?"
            "It's cuz I'm human, "Blake said as he stopped pouring syrup, looked at his food, shrugged, then proceeded to dump more syrup. "You're not human," Whitey started "I traced-"
            "You traced my coat," Blake cut her off "It's not exactly something you find at a department store." Whitey looked at him with a sneer for a while longer before realizing something. "James Blake," she announced "The con artist with stolen power."
            "What power?" Blake asked, a quizzical look coming over him.
            Whitey made a face. "You wear a demons garb, but know not how to use it?" she asked "I thought you went around as some private eye of the supernatural?"
            "I do," Blake said "But I don't ever recall using any powers."
            "Then, how?" Whitey asked slowly "How do you combat the paranormal?"
            "My brain? Instincts and a little rudimentary magic. I also MacGyver some science and alchemy. Hey, do you wanna know how to stop time?"
            "Shut up!" Whitey said frustrated "In this world, you can't be just some guy!"
            "Hey," Blake corrected her "I'm one half of a team of just some guys. Recognize."
            "You're freakin unbelievable."
            "No, I'm Blake. And who are you, Whitey?"
            "Stop calling me that. I am a Holy Guardian, chosen by God to defend this world from evil."
            "Yeah, yeah," Blake said uninterested "I've heard of your kind. Something God set up after a certain demon almost succeeded in becoming a deity. The official word is it was because God didn't want an agent of the devil to claim so many lives ever again. Certain people believe otherwise. God knows something big is coming, and he wants more than his usual angels to wage war with. Others believe that something is coming that angels can't do anything about. So which is it?"
            "I don't even know what you're talking about. My mission is to protect earth from the forces of evil," Whitey announced "Spare me your jokes."
            "Jokes?" Blake asked "That wasn't a joke. But whatever. I'm more interested in who you are. Not your little mission statement, but YOU. That way we can know each other a little more personally."
            "I don't wish to know you personally," Whitey said, folding her arms.
            "Okay then," Blake said as he held up a drivers license "Miss Magdalena Bax-"
            "What?!" Whitey yelled, realizing Blake had her license "How?"
            "Boop!" Blake said as Whitey reached over and snatched back her license. "Ass," she said as she stuffed it back into her purse. "You think if I could pull a fast one over a warrior of God or whatever," Blake said "Imagine how impressive it is when I come out on top over real threats!"
            "You stopped ONE demon," Whitey said as the waitress came back and dropped off a menu before silently filling up Blake's coffee cup and leaving as fast as she could "And I'm pretty sure you did  it on accident."
            "Accident?" Blake said in disbelief "I saved the world by accident?"
            Whitey started laughing. "You stopped a demon, Blake," she said "I wouldn't call that saving the world. I stop demons on a weekly basis, but you don't see me asking for those kind of props."
            "I saved the world BY stopping the demon," Blake corrected her "Do you have any idea what that demon was trying to accomplish?"
            "Sacrificing innocent Christians in a misguided attempt to honor and power the dark lord, Satan," Whitey said plainly, like she was reading from a text book.
            "Satan?" Blake asked, stifling a laugh "Satan was the one who wanted me to save the world! What lies were you fed?"
            "I don't appreciate your jokes," Whitey said, furrowing her brow at the mention of Satan.
            "Tell me something," Blake said "I bet it was about a year and a half ago when you were 'chosen' for this gig of yours. Don't you think that oddly convenient?"
            "I was chosen then. There are others chosen before."
            "Like who? Don't you holy warriors network? I'm sure you can rattle off a few people who've done this longer than you. One or two of them might've taught you how to dress."
            "I don't have to answer to you. Just God."
            "I'm just saying. I'm pretty sure God turned to his holy hit squad because dealing with me left such a sour taste in his mouth."
            Whitey laughed. "Like God would ever deal with you directly."
            "He did. He regrets it, I bet, but we met."
            "Don't be an idiot. No one meets God."
            "Oh snap! Jealous?"
            "I don't believe you."
            "He even forgave a mortal sin of mine. Wanna guess which?"
            "Stop."
            "Still don't believe me? It's because I can't prove it, isn't it? Oh God, the irony!"
            "Listen to me very carefully," Whitey said as she slammed her fists onto the table "I can pretty much figure you're in town for the same reason I am. Stay out of my way."
            "Have you even seen the bodies yet?"
            "I will find the cause to this and put a stop to it," Whitey said, ignoring Blake.
            "So this IS demonic?"
            "What else could it be?"
            "That's a pretty narrow minded assumption."
            "Are you suggesting it's something else?"
            "Some pretty finely attuned people can't seem to get an idea of the cause here, and demonic seems to be a pretty obvious choice."
            "Demonic or not, innocent people got hurt. And whatever the cause, it's still loose out there. One's opponent doesn't necessarily need to be demonic to garner the protection of God."
            "Well at least your heart is in the right place."
            Whitey narrowed her eyes and glared at Blake, not sure to take that as a compliment. At this point, John had returned and was now standing by the table in front of them. "Hey fat ass," he said to Blake "Why are you eating my pancakes?"