Gunfire

Borne on a wind that howled of winter’s imminent demise, no one could
say how long this battle to the death between a superhuman and a demonic
fiend would go on. A deafening report called a sudden close to the duel.

D’s upper body jolted ever so slightly. The tension was broken. About
to make a thrust, the figure halted. An instant later, the figure leapt through
the air, cleared a stone wall, and melted into the darkness with a speed that
shamed the wind itself.

Not that the figure feared the gunfire which had just put two rounds into
D’s body. Rather, the figure had seen D take the massive slugs through the
side of his chest without letting the point of his sword quaver in the least
bit.

The especially strong wind scattered all trace of the enemy, so D limned
a fluid arc of silver that returned his longsword to its sheath. On the right
flank of his coat the material was rent wide, marking the spot where a
magnum gun had scored a pair of direct hits, but there was no trace of
emotion whatsoever in his exquisite face.

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