Small Town, USA. Once a busy mining town. When gas began leaking from the mines and seeping into the ground water, the people fled. It had not been long since the town was abandoned. The buildings were still in more or less working order, and the power generators were still working enough that the power lines were still working. The streets were paved with concrete, the road just big enough for four lanes on the main street, and two in residential areas. The town itself was no bigger than 1,000 square meters with the tallest building no taller than 45 feet.

Flying in, a giant bird colored black. It was a noble bald eagle, much larger than the average. Riding on the eagle, was a man on a mission. Formerly known as Jim Vice, it was long since he had been referred to by his first name. In the eternal struggle which had become his life, Jim was became known only as Daddy Liberty.

As he flew over the road, a sense of nostalgia overcame Jim. He was approaching his destination: Small Town, USA. The eagle screamed, signalling its halt, as it fluttered its wings and kicked back. Jim slid down its body and clutched onto the eagle's talons. Once he saw he was clear to land, Jim let go. Midair, Jim did a backflip and braced himself for landing. He landed on his knuckles, doing a backflip as he got up. Slung on his back from furthest to closest to his body were: M240B, M4, M16. Jim reached around his back grabbing the closest and most convenient, a machine gun which Jim had come to refer to as "Uncle Sam the Justice". He unslung the weapon, and held it at the low ready with his front hand on the tripod. Jim was quick to seek cover and concealment, as he posted and sprawled, keeping a low position so as not to be noticed by his enemy.

The one giving Jim this mission was the 7th president of the United States: Andrew Jackson. In exchange for completing the mission, Jim would bestowed the mystical sword: Liberty Brand. Jim did not personally want the blade. Perhaps Lenimetus did, but as it stood, Lenimetus could not speak. Jim simply felt an obligation, though he had long gone AWOL, to serve his country once more. His brief was done in somewhat an informal way- just as one would expect from the 7th president.

While in the prone, Jim set up the tripod on his weapon and lifted the feed tray cover. In his hand, the end of a 200-round belt of 7.62 ammo. He procedurally loaded the rounds into the tray and quickly closed the tray cover. With the belt locked in, Jim pulled back the charging handle and locked it to the rear. Jim was ready to fire.

Quickly, Jim picked up his 240 and began to move tactically between the buildings. He looked to the sky to see his bird fly away. The eagle, as it flew off into the sunset, let out a loud and proud scream signifying that Daddy Liberty had arrived.

A wanderer with no path will find no safe haven, Mom always said that. Through ages and decades of delusional meandering, his path had lead him once again to a small township. Abandoned and dusty in the middle of a country that was far from his own. Faint memories of a road that he had once traveled, a man that had once struck him down. Many times has he been slain, and many times he has risen again. Abraham Haddad's life has lead him back here, the fates teasing him with memories that are just beyond his reach. These dusty roads that stretch before him bare only the slightest hint of why he had been here before, of why he was here again.

What looked like a bird had flown overhead, predatory, respectable. There was a slight thought of honor that danced through his head as he watched it fly above, something about predators thinking like predators. It didn't make sense, even to him, so he shrugged the thought from his mind and carried on walking. The wooden shaft of his spear dragged on the ground. The Ghul found comfort in the sound of his spear sliding across the sand, the sands had always kept him safe from Humans, Angels, and other 'higher' entities. Whenever he had left the sands a fearsome foe would happen upon him, and once again he would be slain.

These thoughts repeated in his head, though every time they passed he forgot them again.

Sounds crossed his ears, his head whipped around to pursue them. Above his head the eagle dashed from sight with a mighty call, and for a moment he believed that it was just the bird that had alerted his senses. He dropped his guard and carried on his wayward road, on a whim he placed his right hand on the wall beside him. Dragging it across the aged brick, feeling the rough edges of it grind across his paper thin flesh. Losing his balance for a moment, Abe stumbled forwards, his hand had thrust through a hole in the wall that was near perfect size for a full grown man. It all came rushing back to him, a warrior with a burning sword that had smote him here.

With wicked rage burning through his body, boiling what blood he has left, Abe pulled his hand from the hole. Letting out a howl, sounding more monster than man as it tore past his lips. He made this hole! He did this, and in doing so tore me asunder! Is he here? Is he here!? Raging thoughts tore across his twisted mind, the one whose name and face he could not remember. The sword was all he knew, the sword burned him still.

Now in a frenzy, Abe latched his hand to the nearest section of the wall and hoisted himself to the rooftop. From there he let out another inhuman howl, the scarce hairs still clinging to his scalp whipped in the wind. As did the fabric that makes up his silken robes. Abraham spoke, for the first time in what seemed like a century. The words were spoken with his wicked raspy voice, shouted to the top of his lungs. Poison gas sprayed from between his teeth as the breath left him. "Where are you, sword of flames!? I remember you! I want to remember destroying you!"

In spite of being airborne qualified, Jim had never actually made a jump on a mission, no less do one without a parachute. A little proud of how he stuck the landing, Daddy Liberty was motivated properly for his following. Though his comrades no longer supported him, Daddy Liberty had the spirit of the president. No. Daddy Liberty had the support of all the presidents; past, present, and future.

The soldier shook with pride, as he continued weaving between buildings, before soon enough, he noticed the faint sound of crying. It was vaguely human, though it probably was not. Still, Daddy Liberty had recognized it as some kind of speech. As if on cue, Daddy Liberty began walking into the direction of the noise. His footsteps were loud as he was carrying loads of equipment, but Daddy Liberty himself tried to remain hidden. His M240B was held with the butt stock in the pocket of Jim's right shoulder. His left, forward hand was pushing it into his chest, and his right hand grasping the pistol grip with his finger off the trigger.

When he saw a corner, he peaked through while trying to remain ready to fire his weapon. Though his mask obscured quite a bit of Daddy Liberty's peripheral view, he could barely make out something that was just barely humanoid in shape, but much more grotesque in appearance. Daddy Liberty, in response, backed up behind the wall and turned to face his target. Before letting his enemy know, he squared up his stance, leaned slightly forward, and moved past the corner.

Finally ready to fire, Daddy Liberty switched his weapon from safe to fire. In one quick motion, he grabbed the trigger and squeezed for a good three seconds in the general direction of Abraham. The 240B had some noticeable kick, but Daddy Liberty's strength was more than enough to stabilize himself even on the slightly uneven, soft ground beneath.

Sharp rushes of wind, deafening cracks like the wicked roar of thunder, and a tremendous pain in his calf. Only one bullet found province in Abe before he began moving away, his reaction to the sound was almost instant. That awful noise of gunfire and death had driven him away from his usual prey, making human a delicacy in these times. They always fought back with their dishonorable tools, relying on the strength of gunpowder instead of their own bodies. They always kept him at range with their invisible projectiles, they hit him before he could react every time. This was no different, a hot wave of suffering crept from his leg to his brain. Instinct drove him to leap over the building's ledge, back the direction he had just come. Away from it, run from the sound, flee from death and hunt the source. The same thoughts as always. Magic, gunfire, power, whatever kept him from his quarry only ever held him off for so long.

Again he had found himself on the hunt, he had called out for vengeance from the rooftops and his call had been answered in haste. Rounding the curve of the building in a blind rage, no idea where his prey was hiding. The only hint that graced his presence to Abe was the direction of the sound, and that was quickly slipping from his mind. Bent at the corner, down an alley and into another. Around a building and back down the road where the sound originated. His billowing robe giving the illusion of flight as he rocketed down the road, his speed unhindered by his wound. Dust was thrown aside by his feet as he sailed across the dusty road, the gritty feeling on his bare feet was so familiar and comfortable to him.

It had come from this way, guns don't work on their own, they need a finger to work them. So there had to be a source behind the sound, tracking it down would be the easy part. Successfully capturing it was going to be a nightmare, considering he was unable to dodge bullets. Rampaging towards the sound, he began to step from side to side, bobbing his head and torso up and down.

Abe could not yet see his prey, but he was sure it could see him. It had already wounded him, so he began to move in sporadic and unpredictable patterns, moving as quickly as he possibly can just to avoid the vicious bit of another gunshot.

Word poured from between his clenched teeth, a hiss and lisp decorating the words. A cloud of toxic fog leaking from the corners of his mouth. The words meant almost nothing to him, but something compelled them to be spoken. "Come to me, lascher of death and fire! I'm schtarving, usche your blade of flamesch to cook your own flesch!"

Naturally, Daddy Liberty's target had moved after being shot at. A few droplets of blood fell on the ground, confirming Daddy Liberty had hit his mark. Bright red was the color Daddy Liberty was looking for. It was his first favorite color, after all, next to white and blue. Daddy Liberty lowered his 240 and switched from fire to safe. He scanned the area to hear only the faintest footsteps that were barely even audible. It had seemed to be from the front.

Daddy Liberty could remember in deployment, children playing on rooftops as he was on patrol. He could remember the strange looks he got from all the different locals. At that time, Daddy Liberty was a symbol of peace. Oftentimes, he'd like to believe he still were such a thing. With the demon inside of him, guiding a good deal of his behavior, Daddy Liberty questioned himself. At one point, this questioning caused an attempted suicide. This lead to Jim's fateful encounter with the demon that had taken over his body. Attempted suicide were only a trivial thing. Even at point blank with 7.62, it was not enough to kill Daddy Liberty anymore. If he didn't let himself regenerate, the demon would eventually take control and do it for him, thus giving more of his body to the demon. For now, just the face would suffice.

Out of the blue, another phrase spoken in an angry tone by something that could definitely not be considered human. He questioned whether or not it was in fact his target. However, a few key words could cue Daddy Liberty in. These included "Blade" and "Flames"; he was talking about the Liberty Brand!

Daddy Liberty hurried over to the position in which he had heard the noise. On his first deployment, Daddy Liberty was a gunner and had to perform similar tactical maneuvers. It was just like training. Unfortunately, he was never given the opportunity to really fire at a live target back in deployment. He felt a little bit of disappointment in the situation in fact.

Still, he had confirmation on his target. Daddy Liberty put cheek to stock well as he looked through the sight-blade to align with his target. With a light click, Daddy Liberty switched his weapon from safe to fire before pulling the trigger for another three seconds. By rough estimate, he had a little more than half the rounds on his belt left.

Tearing through the air like furious birds of prey, each shot fired by the hidden foe flew towards him. Abe's unpredictable pattern made the bullet's goal of finding flesh rather difficult. Those bullets that came close to their target shredded his cloak, tearing away small chunks of the cloth. For the most part, Abe was unharmed by the first few rounds. The next few rounds managed to strike his left arm and right leg in the most painfully sensitive parts. His left arm's bicep and his right leg's thigh were easily penetrated by the rounds, Abe nearly lost his stride as they struck him. This, however, was a boon of luck in disguise. See, with the new and prolonged source of sound, Abe was able to whip his head around to finally lay eyes on the one who was assaulting him.

A man in modern militant garb, armed with rifles and dressed for combat. Had this man been sent here to kill him? Was his wandering not as random as he previously thought it was? These questions would find no answers before Abe quickly changed his trajectory towards his new foe, his feet slid on the sand as he drew himself to a half. Again, the sand was kicked up violently as he started running again. The monster of the Sahara raised his left arm upwards and drew it backwards, pulling the point of it back to his waist before taking one long leap towards Liberty.

In the leap, Abe thrust his left hand forwards with all of his might. Releasing the handle of the partisan for a scarce second, Abe let it slide along his fingertips to give it the maximum momentum possible for a spear. Catching it just before its length exited his fingers. The Ghul thrust the spear with killing intent, towards Liberty in his hiding place. Gunshots were starting to infuriate him, now that he had laid eyes on his foe, he wasn't going to let him raise that gun again.

"GAAAH!" Daddy Liberty groaned as he felt the spear piercing his right shoulder. Daddy Liberty swung back, letting his rifle drop, supported by his sling as he reached his left hand over to grab the spear, pulling it out of his body. "HOOAH!" Daddy Liberty let out a noise that seemed more satisfied than pained. Turning his head, Daddy Liberty searched for his assailant. Finally, he had a good look at his target, and it sure was ugly.

The piece of flesh sputtered blood in a pulsating manner, making a good two squirts, before stopping. The blood had turned slightly black. "Damn you're persistent..." Daddy Liberty commented, as the black blood turned bright red once again. Healing had become a very active process for Daddy Liberty. Every time he sustained injury, he had to consciously make sure it healed otherwise the demon would do it for him and the damage would be irreversible. Forming over the wound, pink flesh as the healing process began slowly.

"I take it your name is Abraham" Daddy Liberty stated. Though it wasn't quite present much before, there was a slight Southern drawl in Daddy Liberty's vernacular. "You ain't very highspeed ain't ya?" he joked, looking at the spear before letting go, allowing it to fall. Daddy Liberty reached for his M4, Lady Liberty.

He pulled the charging handle, locking the bolt to the rear. He then reached into his pocket, pulling out a 30-round magazine. The magazine was locked into the magazine well, the first round chambered. Daddy Liberty switched the rifle from safe to fire, as he held it out using only his right hand.

Not even bothering to aim, Daddy Liberty pointed the rifle in Abe's general direction, squeezing the trigger once, firing a single round of 5.56.

Familiarity twinged with his foe's speech, asking about his name. Though the words were nearly lost on him, they stunned him for long enough to allow Liberty to draw his weapon and unleash a volley of bullets directly into Abe's gut and groin. They tore their way through his body and sent him careening backwards, spraying his thick acidic juices across the ground as he flew backwards. The kick from the gun wasn't enough to throw him, he had kicked backwards without thinking. Fear of gunfire had driven him away many times, and this time was no different. Three times had Abraham felt their fearsome bite, and now he was spewing acid from his gut.

The ground around his feet began to grow soggy and loose, his acid oozing out slowly and sliding down his legs to the ground. A foul stench permeated the air, but Abe was not concerned with the loss of his acid. Even with holes in his gut, Abe had an infinite supply. Though this would be problematic, as he's now literally losing his guts on the battlefield. As well, it would reduce the pressure of his spray until he found a way to seal it back up. Probably tight bandages and some cork, but that would be dealt with later.

Standing there with his hand on his gut, Abe felt the oozing toxins roll across his fingers. "Yesch." He started. "Abe isch me, and I am he." The meaning of Liberty's words finally dawned on him, after he had leapt away from danger. Though, this put him at a distance once again, and in more danger than he would be in melee range. "You hold it, I know you muscht. The schword of flamesch." Those words were bitter against his tongue, toxic fog rolling from his lips with every breath. "Give me that evil schword, scho I might take my revenge!" Somewhere deep inside of a subconscious that thinks only for itself, the old thoughts of the Ghul lingered. Thoughts of logic and reason, and they spoke for him.

But his actions were purely predatory.

And actions speak louder than words.

Inside of his mouth, after the meaningless words passed his throat, Abe began to fill his maw with his toxic sludge. A slight leak from between his teeth showed, dripping past his shrivelled lips to the ground. Guns may be long range, but Abe can still fight from a distance.

Daddy Liberty took a step back as he saw what fluids had dripped from the ghul. It was an unfamiliar sight that confirmed to Daddy Liberty that he was not fighting anything remotely close to human- which means it was easier for him not to hold back.

"I ain't got no sword" Jim said. He stood up, feet planted firmly. The sling of his M240 held pressure over his fresh stab wound, the butt stock of his M4 in the pocket of his shoulder. The rifle was square to Abraham, Daddy Liberty still in a very much ready position. "Sorry if I had to disappoint." Jim's finger curled around the trigger. He placed his cheek to the stock and lurched his head forward so that his cheek was touching the charging handle. Jim continued to slowly step back, as his sights lined up with his target.

"Law man says I can't say the second part of what I'm thinkin', but the first part is die" Jim announced as he squeezed the trigger. A bullet fired from the short barrel of his M4, brass casing flying from the ejection port of his rifle and hitting the wall next to it, falling to the ground with a light clink. The barrel lit red and the entire rifle boomed with the loud noise as the bullet shot forth toward its target.

Abe despised firearms with an unrivaled passion, they were an impass that he had yet to actually manage to crawl around. The first round struck Abe directly in his jaw, catching the left hand side and tearing a chunk out of his face and spraying condensed acid in all directions. The broken and busted jaw swung away from the connective joint and dangled there, noxious sludge spraying from his throat and dripping from his torn away jaw. Howling like a mad beast, Abe lunged forward. Whether or not any more gunshots riddled his body, he was unaware, he couldn't actually feel anything right now.

The words that hit him harder than the bullets had left him deaf to pain. There was no sword here, this unworthy heathen wasn't weilding the liberty brand. Without that sword, this man was just meat with a gun. Trying to kill him once again, and it was starting to look like he was going to succeed.

With his jaw swinging loose, Abe leapt forward at Liberty. No rhyme or reason, an instinctual predatory leap. Intended to catch your opponent off guard and leave them vulnerable. If Abe successfully catches him, or if he fails miserably. The unfortunate side effect of his jaw being blown off is that he no longer has the ability to control how much poison is being spewed from himself. As Abe leaps forward, so does a torrent of noxious gasses and acidic sludge. Turning everywhere he steps into a biohazardous zone rivalled only by Chernobyl.

Liberty didn't have the sword, and Abe was furious. The only goal was to kill this swine and consume his flesh, without the sword, Abe had no real purpose.

Daddy Liberty backed off, placing his rifle in front of him to guard from the ghul. "Holy h-" the man began to hack under his mask before he could speak his next word. Daddy Liberty held his breath and closed his eyes. The man focused on his liver and lungs, hoping that the demon did not take those while he was off guard.

As Daddy Liberty stepped back, he could feel the pressure on his boots somewhat lessen, before it turned out that the very plastic was slowly beginning to dissolve! "Hmm... I see" Daddy Liberty thought. He looked to the path before him, before thinking up a plan. He drew another breath, trying to bear with the obnoxious scent of the air. This time, he allowed the demon to do its work. Daddy Liberty lamented slightly, but through his mask, it was impossible to really see his facial expression.

Daddy Liberty's plan, was simply to kill the Ghul, or at least cripple him before running off. Daddy Liberty took his left hand off his rifle, and snapped his fingers- he was calling upon his mighty, screaming eagle! "Alright you fuck" Daddy Liberty choked out.

The man turned tail and ran, trying to escape from the acid ground- and the narrow passage ways. As he finally escaped, the bottom of his boots had already dissolved and the acid was eating away at the bottom of his feet.

Liberty was on the move, and Abe needed to move faster. In the alley way he was open to gunfire, a death sentence if there ever was one. So he needed to outflank his foe, and there was only one way to do that.

Turning his head to his right, Abe unleashed a torrent of liquid death upon the wall. It began to dissolve, and just enough too. With his right hand, as it was free of a weapon, he unleashed his full strength on the wall. Knocking a hole through it, and forcing a segment to collapse in on itself. Leaving an opening large enough for him to leap through, just before Liberty could compose himself long enough to fire again.

Inside of the building, Abe began springing parallel to the alleyway. Acidic vomit oozing from his mouth and gut, dissolving the floor around his feet with every step. Staining his clothes with its brown color, making his already grossly stained clothes look more disgusting. The Ghul ran in stuttered steps, limping occasionally and nearly tripping over himself every few steps. There was nothing he could do about it right now, maybe when he kills his prey he'll be able to do something, but not yet. Right now he would have to deal with falling apart.

Bleeding out wasn't a problem, he had very little blood anyway. His sight was starting to turn red from his fury, but there weren't any eyes in his sockets anyway.

Abe needed to kill Liberty, and he needed to do it fast. Something felt wrong, and he didn't quite know what.

An eagle flew in from the direction of the sun, and right in the nick of time. As the ground became more dangerous to step in, Daddy Liberty was fortunate enough to catch the talon of his giant eagle. The eagle adjusted its grip, holding Daddy Liberty by the waist in its two talons. Daddy Liberty held out his M4, and while flying, pointed his rifle down towards the ground.

He obtained from his pocket, a precarious place, an M67 fragmentation grenade. In hand, he loaded the grenade into the M203 grenade launcher of his rifle. With that done, he placed his right hand over his magazine. With his left hand, he put up his iron sights, then got into a ready position, scanning for his target.

"Die" Daddy Liberty whispered, pulling the trigger of his grenade launcher. "Killin' radius of 5 meters, casualty producing radius of 15. I'm pretty sure that old whatever the hell he was won't be able to take this."

With a hollow whoop, a grenade flew from the M203 and onto its target that was still within the building. "Man, that still hurts" Daddy Liberty said, gripping hard on the magazine.