Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Ryoko's Biatch]

The formerly great city, Los Angeles, lies in ruins from nearly three years of warfare and neglect. Even after its annexation by the New Empire of the Damned it was never in such poor condition. Riots broke out after the Death Race and then the street gangs took over, spreading across the city. Even the hoards of zombies couldn't compete and the NED lost control of California and a fuehrer rose to reunite the the factions, forming the Neues Osterreich. Despite a military that few of the new, rising nations within America could hope to raise, it was not unusual for attempted uprisings by restless goons who survived the reichkrieg.

This uprising was a bit different. A man calling himself Deimos took Los Angeles in a storm of violence. The ferocity of the attacks had never before been seen in gang warfare since the Battle of Ball Sack Creek, the only battle without a single known survivor. These men, these monsters, were possessed by a berserker rage. The dead were ripped to shreds, their body parts used as grisly trophies of the conquest. Buildings filled with orphans and cancer patients were burned down and those who tried to escape were decapitated with lead pipes. When the Wehrmacht laid siege to the city, the goons had no qualms with devouring their subjects or even each other. Their leader instilled them with a confidence, an arrogance that could not be broken.

But this was to be the final day of the gang's existence.

Deimos, his face hidden by his helmet sat atop a building on the edge of town, surrounded by four muscular black men. He laughs echoed in the mask. The war machine looked broken, the soldiers, after months of on and off battle, were exhausted. The reinforcements, seeing the attitude of their comrades shared the lethargy like an infectious disease.

"Look at these men," Deimos said, "No, not men, women. They give up so easily. My kingdom will topple the fuehrer and then Caligula will fall at my hands. They all know and fear the name Deimos."

The black men, shirtless and covered in tribal tattoos, nod in agreement. Their leader, Olu Baraka, a felon who converted to Islam in prison and escaped at the fall of America, looks toward his fellow bodyguards.

"I think it's time for a regime change, Deimos," Olu says, grinning.

"What?" Deimos stutters, surprised by what he hears.

"Ya see, me and the boys, we figured somethin' out a few days ago. You ain't got no idea what the fuck you're doin'. But me, I got ideas."

Deimos raises his arm as if to stop the approaching Olu, but the stump is unable to do anything. Olu grabs him by the throat and holds him over the edge of the building.

"So you either turn everything over to me," Olu looks down, "Or I turn you over to the pavement, ya dig?"

"You're making a mistake," Deimos screams. Since this all began, he had never felt fear. Now it was all he knew.

"Nah, I already made a mistake when I started followin' your dumb ass."

Fft, fft, fft. The sound of silenced gunfire and then the crumpling of bodies turn Olu's head. Reacting on pure instict, he hurls Deimos at the intruder, but he merely tosses Deimos aside.

"Should I have left you two alone?" the intruder asks. His black cape flutters in the wind.

[Big Fagot]

Deimos basically jobs in his first promo.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

The man in black lifts his right arm from the folds of his cloak, silenced 9mm in hand. He takes his time aiming as Olu Baraka smirks at him. The trigger is gently pulled and the barrel spits out another muzzled fft. Baraka doesn't fall.

Just as slowly as the cloaked man fired, Olu opens his palm and the bullet falls out.

"Heh heh, it's gonna take more'n that to kill me," Olu mocks. His palms are thickly calloused, harder than rock. These are hands that crush skulls and dreams with equal ease.

"I have to give you credit, only one man has dodged that shot of mine," the man in the black cloak says. "But can you stop a hundred bullets?" He lowers his arm back into his cape and then pulls out a machine gun, flashes lighting the evening sky. The reports cracked like thunder, like lightning striking fifteen times per second. But Olu stood there, his hands moving just as fast. The machine gun started clicking against the empty chamber and then was dropped into the pile of spent cases. Olu dropped their former contents.

Olu stroked his beard and then ran his hand over his bald head. "You can fire a gun, but can you fight?" He rushes toward the intruder and cocks back his arm, bringing it forward with titanic strength. At the instant Olu's fist connected with Black Cloak's hand, he felt a fist strike him in the face and knocking him off his feet.

"The hell was that? I didn't even see you move your other arm," Olu stammers in disbelief. Even as fast as Baraka was, he had never seen anything like that.

"Kill him," a raspy voice spit into the silence.

"Shut up," the cloaked man responded.

"OLU BARAKA, KILL HIM," the same raspy voice spit.

"What the fuck is goin' on?"

The cloaked man palms his face and then rips off his cloak. Even as late in the day as it was, the shine was almost blinding. Baraka covers his eyes, still laying prone on the rooftop. When he hears the crunching of footsteps to his right, he looks over to see his former boss trying to escape. He can't help but grin slightly when Deimos' head explodes inside of his helmet, a fountain of blood firing out of the hole in the side just before the entire helm falls and then rolls off the roof. Instants later, the body falls too.

The intruder blows the smoke from his gun and then drops it. Then, as if out of thin air, he produces a battle axe. "Well, I've had fun, but I should get this over with. The Fuehrer hates waiting."

An angry hiss fills the air.

[Big Fagot]

Is Deimos going to be OK?

[Ryoko's Biatch]

"Wait," Olu says, his eyes adjusting to the glare. "You're him."

With the cloak removed, the intruder's Corinthian helmet and his missing left arm become clear.

"I suppose I am," he replies, "but I still have a job to do." He spins the battle axe in his right hand. "Let's make this quick, I still have to finish off the rest of the rebels."

Olu Baraka stands and pops his neck. "Yeah, I'll finish this up quick for ya." Baraka runs at Deimos, who swings his axe into Olu's shoulder. Olu, instead of falling, grabs Deimos' hand and holds it on the handle of the axe so that he can't pull it away. With his free hand, he palms the helmet and starts crushing it. "Gonna fuck you up good," Olu grunts. Blood becomes visible as it runs down Deimos' neck.

"He's got you," a raspy voice whispers in Deimos' ear.

Olu feels his hand hit the handle of the axe and then another hand grab his throat. "Shit," he gasps as his breathing becomes restricted. He looks at the axe handle out of the corner of his eye and sees a hole. "Fuck."

Realizing what happened, he kicks Deimos' elbow and falls back, the grip breaking from his neck. He coughs and stands back up while pulling the axe out of his shoulder. "Goddamn that hurts. You got yourself an arm on you, man."

Deimos throws away his dented helmet and produces a new one. "Maybe I should have shot you first," he says then, a few moments later, whispers, "Shut up." The second of distraction was all Olu needed to close in an punch Deimos in his armored gut, the cuirass barely stopping the incredible force of the blow, hurling him into the air. He back flips and lands on his feet at the edge of the roof. With a split second to collect himself, he bounces forward and shoulder blocks Olu off of his feet and then somersaults into a standing position.

When Olu tries to get back up, Deimos roundhouses him in the face, spinning Olu out of control and nearly six stories to the pavement. Deimos goes into a kick boxing stance, giving his opponent a chance to recover. As expected, Baraka charges him like a bull and Deimos knees him in the jaw and drops an elbow on his skull, blood, teeth and a single eye fly out of Olu's face. He collapses and Deimos kicks him in the stomach to make sure he's dead.

"I haven't had to actually fight anyone in a year," he mumbles, "Maybe I'm getting a little out of shape."

"I thought he had you," the disembodied voice says, more than a little disappointed.

"I'm not complaining, looks like America is finally offering more than giant goons with chainsaw dicks. I didn't need to see another one of those."

"Hard to disagree with that," the voice concedes. As he speaks, Deimos produces a shotgun and enters the building, kicking down the door.

[Action Hank]

I am confused.

[Big Fagot]

Yeah. Did Olu fall six stories or not?

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Oh man, I didn't realize how poorly worded that was.

No, he didn't fall. I guess I'll fix that. Or I won't. It's more impressive if he did fall, though.

Whatever you want to have happened there is true.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

A group of 20 goons form a horseshoe around a man tied to a chair. Underneath the chair is a blue tarp. The man is completely nude, but for the sake of this story, we all know that he is a member of the Osterreich army. The goons have their pants unzipped and their dicks are hanging out and they laugh hideously with each other.

One goon steps forward and uppercuts the man hard enough to lift the chair from the floor. Another goon, with dozens of knives piercing his torso, laughs and then says, "Don't kill him yet, I still got another load or two."

"Yeah, it ain't no fun if he's dead," another yells.

"Fine, fine," the original goon says, waving his arm. That arm has a circular saw on top of his arm plugged into a car battery he wears on his back. With his less deadly hand he starts to furiously masturbate to the horror of the man in the middle. When the goon starts to violently convulse, the man's eyes close tightly and then his eardrums are nearly shattered by an intense concussive force as his face is wetted.

Still afraid to open his eyes, he hears yelling. "What the fuck you do that for, boss?" "Yeah, we was only havin' fun!" When he finally dares to look, the saw fist goon is on the floor, a hole in his torso the size of his own head.

"Can't let you guys have all the fun," Deimos says and throws the shotgun to the nearest goon. The goon looks confusedly at the weapon before his body is ripped in half by a precision kick. Deimos then throws a handful of knives directly into the hearts of five goons who were still pawing their puds because violence is always erotic.

"C'mon, c'mon. Get serious," Deimos mocks the remaining goons.

"You ain't the boss," the largest and apparently most intelligent goon says. "The boss only killed us when we did somethin' bad. You're a bad man." His body is bright red and covered in blue veins, but he has the appearance of a large child with big round eyes and slightly crooked teeth. "Well I can be a bad man, too. I went to the No Man's Land and now I'm really bad."

"Whoa, Kid, relax," one goon says, "The boss is just funnin' us."

"He's right, I'm not the boss," Deimos answers, filling everyone in the room with fear. Not of Deimos, but of the Kid, who started flexing his muscles with all of his might. No one who survived the No Man's Land ever came back normal. They were atomic supermen, with bizarre powers beyond comprehension.

The Kid's skin turns an even brighter shade of red and lumps started forming along his back. A haze distorted what little light there was in the room and the paint on the walls started to peel. A few of the remaining goons jump out of the windows as the corpses started to burst into flames.

"I'm real bad now, mister," the Kid says just as four more arms shoot out of his back. "You better watch out." He stretches his arms and is suddenly engulfed in green flames. The Kid picks up one of his comrades, setting him on fires and tosses him at Deimos, who rolls out of the way as the wall behind him explodes and charred meat flies in every direction.

"This should be interesting," the raspy voice says.

I could do without interesting Deimos thinks as he pulls out an automatic rifle. He starts firing, but the bullets burst into flames within a foot of the Kid's body. The Kid laughs and then pounds the floor with all six arms, sending an explosive wave of heat toward Deimos, who barely evades as once again the wall behind him is reduced to ashes.

"Jesus Christ, kill that asshole before the Kid destroys the whole fuckin' place," the goon with the knives in his body yells as he pulls said knives out and throws them, but they bounce ineffectively off of Deimos' armor. Suddenly getting an idea, the knife goon grabs the hostage and grins. "If you don't jump out of that hole, I'll cut this motherfucker's head off."

"Wasn't part of my job," Deimos replies, filling them both with 30 bullets. He loses sight of the Kid long enough to catch a triple uppercut out of the side of the building that melts his bronze cuirass.

As he falls to his doom, all he can think is Fuck.

[Big Fagot]

Fucking No Man's Land!

[Big Fagot]

When are we going to get a map of Neo America or Post-America or Pardon My Freedom Land or whatever?

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Vinny is working on it, but I have a shitty one I did in MS Paint.

[Action Hank]

Post it.


Please.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Deimos' arm goes cold just before impacting the pock marked concrete, another victim of the new America. Pain shoots up to his shoulder, and then up his legs when his feet hit the ground. Colored spots criss cross the blackness of his closed eyes. He can feel wind blowing across his missing hand.

But somehow he stands up and knows he should be dead. Where his hand hit, there was a fist sized crater. He stares at his open palm, a rocky skin covering it and extending up to his shoulder. He closes his hand into a fist, shocked by the monstrosity of what he has become.

"I didn't expect that to happen," the gravel hits his ear and he wishes he could wash it away. "You've killed a lot of men. You should be proud. I didn't think you'd make it this long."

Jesus, he thought, I'm becoming just like him. A monster.

Good.

He tries conjuring up another weapon, but nothing happens. The cackling bombards his sense of hearding just before the shockwave rocks him off balance for a moment. It's the Kid, still burning, the tar melting around the atomic monster's feet. I've got to figure this out, Deimos tells himself when his arm is wracked with pain. He absent-mindedly tries to clutch it with his left one before realizing that it's gone.

"How did the bad man survive? Is he like me?" the Kid asks. The flaming aura around him expands as he drops all six of his fists into the ground sending a tidal wave of molten concrete toward Deimos. The black sludge spits fire out at random.

It was strong when I fell, he reasons and then punches the ground below him, sending himself flying 30 feet into the air. While he soars, he looks down to see the tar crashing into dozens of goons, burning the flesh off of their bones and then drying into horrific tributes to unimaginable suffering.

"I got you this time, bad man," the Kid says, satisfied with his deed.

"FUCK YOU," DEIMOS YELLS AT THE UNAWARE KID, HIS FURY BURNING AS BRIGHTLY AS THE KID'S. ALERTED, THE KID TRIES TO CATCH DEIMOS' FIST, BUT THE POWER OF THE BLOW EXPLODES THE KID'S HAND AND KNOCKS DEIMOS FIFTEEN FEET BACK.

The Kid looks at his stump, instantly cauterized by the intense heat, his face twisting into uncontrolled anger. "I'm gonna to kill you!" A fireball forms between his five remaining hands and he spins it into a cyclone of pure fire, heading directly for Deimos.

"You better figure that thing out quick," the voice tells him.

"Why don't you just tell me what it can do?"

"Not part of the deal."

Deimos picks up a manhole cover and hurls it at the burning tornado, but it simply cuts it in half, forming two tornados heading for him at twice the speed. He sees a small crack between them, though and leaps through, singing his chest and back, burning his pants off. Jesus

His dong hanging free, Deimos remembers that when he punched the Kid before, it didn't hurt his rocky arm. Artfully dodging the Kid's forest of blind punches, the sheer number of punches overwhelming any need for accuracy, each one blacking his skin. When he finally gets in range, he punches, but his restricted range of movement allows little strength behind it. Before he can retreat, the Kid laughs and kicks him away.

The Kid grabs a goon in each hand and starts hurling them at Deimos continually getting another goon as soon as he throws the last. Deimos moves out of the way, but too many are coming too quickly, so he starts kicking them apart, offal filling the air. The Kid becomes frustrated and starts setting the goons on fire before he throws them, the first flaming goon holds out a flaming chainsaw in front of him, hoping to delay his own death by at least a few millions of a second.

On instinct, he cocks back his arm and his fist forms into a blade, he punches forward, slicing the goon in half lengthwise, starting from the center of the chainsaw blade, the ends curling away like the peel of a vegetable. That's it, he tells himself and extends the blade to three, five, ten feet long. He moves his arm back and forth rapidly, mincing the flying goons into tiny slivers of flesh, coating the buildings and road with red.

Finally, the Kid runs out of ammunition and starts running at Deimos, who casually shortens the blade and then lengthens it again, through the Kid's brain. The Kid stops in mid-stride, his skin extinguished, and falls down, cutting the top of his skull in half. Deimos marches forward, his hand reverted back to a rocky fist, and kicks the bisected head into slush.

The rocks start sloughing off, back down to a black leather glove. His arm feels like it's going to implode. He limps half nude back to the city gates, executing every man he sees along the way. The pain starts to go away.

[Big Fagot]

They should know better than to mess with the long arm of the law!

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Deimos stretches his arm after kicking down the Los Angeles gate, walking through the soldiers who look upon him in horror. He's covered in blood and still isn't wearing any pants. He enters the largest tent, covered in the Reich's emblem, a crudely drawn Hapsburg two headed eagle with machine guns in its claws. The guards don't move to stop him.

"Good evening, Fuhrer."

A thick Austrian accent replies, "Ah, welcome back. I assume everything went well?" (I'm not going to try to phoneticize his speech, so just make the voice in your head.) The Fuhrer puts a lit cigar up to his lips and puffs away. His thick arms and massive body are covered in a German military uniform and he wears a slightly grown out crew cut.

Deimos spins a pistol on his finger. "The impostor is dead and the resistance is crushed."

"Great news!" The Fuhrer hands Deimos a cigar, "Would you like one? It's Cuban, they've been sneaking them into Florida when they can get past the naval blockade."

Deimos waves his hand, turning down the cigar, "I'm just here to collect my paycheck."

"Of course, of course. Please, sit, my men will get your provisions and a pair of pants." The Fuhrer points to his page, who leaves the tent.

Deimos sits in silence and then says, "You know, the name of your country makes no sense."

"What?"

"Osterreich, it means 'Eastern Empire.' Your country is in the West."

"It doesn't matter, no one else speaks German."

An awkward silence once again filled the tent before the supplies are delivered, the crate lifted by four men, straining to keep it aloft. The cherry of the Fuhrer's cigar is down to his fingers. He drops it to the ground and stomps it out. "Well, here you are. It was a pleasure doing business with you again." He extends his left arm for a handshake and then laughs. "It is a joke, laugh." Deimos does and then slings the crate over his shoulder, holding on to a rope handle.

"Listen," the Fuhrer says while Deimos attempts to leave, "we're having some trouble on the N.E.D. border. If you take care of the zombies, we'll fund a vacation for you in Las Vegas."

"Zombies don't have souls," Deimos says and leaves.

Outside, he sets down the crate and puts on a pair of pants. Right when he finishes zipping up, a tentacle wraps around his waist and smashes him into the ground. His arm is pinned to his side and no matter how hard he tries to free himself he can't. Over and over he hits the hard dirt. I bet he's enjoying this, he thinks. Finally, the tentacle curls him around to face his attacker and he sees the reason no one tried to help him; Dozens of bodies are impaled like a macabre shishkabob. Then he sees what the tentacle is attached to and vomits.

"I AM THE OMNI-DICK! SUBMIT OR BE DESTROYED BY MY MASCULINE RAGE!" the nude man yells, his muscles rippling as he flexes and screams.

The prehensile dick thickens, bursting the torsos of the dead and crushing Deimos' ribs. This fucking guy.

Everyone knew of the Omni-Dick. Originally known as Richard Johnson, he led the gamblers in the First Battle of Las Vegas where they were defeated by the the Showgirl, Stripper and Prostitute Alliance (The SSP). With his embarrassing showing, he moved north, finally ending up in No Man's Land. After he gained his incredible power, he returned to Las Vegas to mount a second attack, losing once again when the SSP queen neutralized his ability. He retreated in shame to Florida where he rebuilt his confidence by randomly slaughtering hundreds, making a name for himself and becoming a highly regarded mercenary.

"YOU'RE PRETTY GOOD, DEIMOS, BUT NOT GOOD ENOUGH! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE FAILED THE PRESIDENT!"

The Omni-Dick throws Deimos up into the air and then transforms his cock into rotating blades, spinning at mach 2.

"I always hoped I'd get a chance to circumsize you, Dick," Deimos says, pulling out a giant scalpel. He swings it down at the spinning blades, but the scalpel shatters, sending shrapnel flying into Deimos' legs and arm, but bouncing off of his chest plate and helmet. He maintains his composure, though, and uses what's left of the scalpel to push himself away.

"HEH HEH, QUICK THINKING, BUT YOU SHOULD KNOW MY DICK IS UNBREAKABLE! LET'S SEE HOW YOU DO AGAINST THESE!"

Omni-Dick's dick breaks into twenty tentacles, each tip turning into a chainsaw.

"Fuck."

[Yogurtman]

I was just wondering the other day why California was called the Osterreich.

Post the map!

[Big Fagot]

I also used Babelfish on it and was confused.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Why won't my arm transform again? Deimos thinks as he rolls away from the dick tentacles that smash into the ground, the chainsaws sending dirt into the air, the cloud of dust causing his eyes to water. Every time they strike, they're closer to hitting their target. He knows it's only a matter of time before one connects. He flexes his arm muscles, hoping that it will change into some kind of weapon. Finally, a chainsaw rips through his armor and he hits the ground.

"HA HA, I THOUGHT YOU'D PUT UP MORE OF A FIGHT," Omni-Dick says, his huge mass bouncing with each word. "IT DOESN'T MATTER, THIS KILL WILL MAKE MY CAREER." Once again his bellowing laughter fills the air as he returns his dick to one giant dick and then grows a mouth with razor sharp teeth at the end. "MY DICK WILL DEVOUR YOU WHOLE!"

The monstrous wang recoils like a snake about to strike and then flies forth. Deimos pulls out a Spartan sword and leaps inside, hoping to do some kind of damage. He stabs down into the esophagus-like urethra and the sword is able to penetrate it, the dick flesh not so invulnerable on the inside. Omni-Dick screams out in pain, as torrents of blood fill his piss-hole. His trouser snake writes along with him, blood dribbling out of it's mouth. Deimos continues to stab the tender urethra before a wall of piss hits him, sending him flying out.

The Omni-Dick shrinks his dick down to normal size to reduce the amount of blood in it and cradles his junk. Deimos vomits again as the stench of ammonia fills his nostrils.

"That was quick thinking," the gravelly voice says with amusement. "It's rare that you see one dick inside another. There's no way that isn't gay."

"Shut the fuck up," Deimos replies curtly. This is a terrible way to spend your day. "Why the hell won't my arm do the same thing it did before? I've never had that happen and now I can't do it again."

"I thought I told you, I don't have to tell you shit. I want you dead."

"Yeah, yeah. Asshole."

The reduced blood flow allows the platelets to form scabs in Omni-Dick's dick, but it's still too tender for him to use his most powerful attacks. He's not sure what to do, but he needs this. The President is the second most powerful man in America even if almost no one knows it and getting on his good side will set you for life. No backing down, I can rest my dick later he thinks. He stretches out his cock without increasing the girth to avoid tearing open the scab. He forms it into a lasso and swings it over his head.

"THIS IS IT, DEIMOS," Omni-Dick says with false bravado, "IF YOU SURRENDER, MAYBE I'LL TAKE YOU TO THE PRESIDENT ALIVE. HE MIGHT ONLY TORTURE YOU INSTEAD OF EXECUTING YOU."

"FUCK THAT!" Deimos screams. He pulls out fives knives and throws them into the skulls of nearby Osterreich soldiers who had been watching to see two powerful men kill each other. Over and over, he kills more and more soldiers as Omni-Dick watches on, shocked that even a mercenary would turn on his own comrades for no reason. Breaking out of their own surprise, the soldiers open fire, but Deimos blocks the bullets with a sword like Raiden uses in Metal Gear Solid 2.

"STOP SHOOTING, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS," the Fuhrer commands, another cigar clenched between his teeth. "Buying those bullets from Caligula cost a lot and who knows if we can get more." The Fuhrer turns to Deimos, "That was awesome, but don't do it again." He goes back into his tent and fucks hella bitches.

Distracted, Omni-Dick's dick lasso wraps Deimos up and pulls him to the Omni-Dick. Deimos' arm is pinned to his side, but he holds it palm up as black energy crackles above it. This attack uses too much power, but it might be my only chance against the indestructible dick. A black sphere forms around Deimos' fist.

"Void Eraser," he mumbles as the breath is squeeze out of him and punches Omni-Dick's cock.

"MY FUCKING DICK, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

OMNI-DICK'S DICK IS CUT APART, THE AREA TOUCHED BY DEIMOS DISAPPEARING AND MORE BLOOD FIRES OUT OF THE ENDS OF THE CLEAN SLICE. THE BLOOD LOSS IS TOO MUCH, AND OMNI-DICK COLLAPSES INTO A HEAP, HIS INDESTRUCTIBLE COCK SHRINKING BACK DOWN TO NORMAL SIZE.

Spent himself, Deimos faints, falling into a giant hand.

"Geh heh heh. Excellent."

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Deimos leaves Caligula's throne room and wipes the blood from his armor. He looks at his gloved palm and then rubs it on his pants. Caligula's offer is an interesting one. He hadn't worked for him since the Gay Man's Land campaign, but he paid well. Phantom pains run up his missing arm.

"Phobos," he yells, "show yourself!"

"Heh, sure," the voice says. Right behind the voice a monstrous creature fades out of the shadows. It was a tall, thin creature with tan skin. Each hand has three fingers with claws after the first joint. Four bony appendages lift his limply hanging body off the ground several feet. He has eight spider-like eyes and mandibles over his mouth (It's like the pseudo-elves in Berserk).

"Tell me how it works," Deimos commands.

"I already told you I don't have to tell you anything." The creature laughs.

"How did my arm change like that?"

"You should have asked that before you made your deal. Deals with demons are tricky like that."

Deimos points a 9mm at Phobos and pulls the trigger. The bullet falls off of the monster's skin without effect.

"Come on, we've been here before. Cut the shit."

"The only reason you don't kill me is you enjoy this too much."

"You wish I was that interested in your pathetic human life. Demons don't break deals, that's why I don't kill you. My kind takes promises seriously even if your kind doesn't."

It's Deimos' turn to laugh. "That's great. You fucking lying monster."

Phobos' mandibles open to show his grin. "I told you, we don't lie and we don't break deals. Why do you think Hard'rok is in Hell now?"

"He's in Hell?"

"Oh, of course. He broke the rules by having carnal relations with a human. That's a thousand years of torture and then soul obliteration. The only reason the Man in Black lasted as long as he did is he qualified for the Anti-Christ exception. When Jack Daniels bit it, he got it hard, though. I was rooting for him, I thought he had it when he took Shanghai." Phobos taps his chin absentmindedly. "Still, he had his soul split into six hundred pieces, each is being tortured and they can all feel each other's pain. Daniels' soul was completely extinguished."

"This is insane."

"No, you deserve to know," he points at Deimos. "The only reason Hard'rok got away with it so long was because the guys in charge of enforcing the rules are lazy. Anyway, it wouldn't be that bad, but it would be bad if I offed you. Besides, I shouldn't even be in the human world anyway."

"I'll make another deal. A better deal." He pulls a sword out of the air and hurls it through an intruder's head.

"You're ready to give me your soul?" Phobos licks his teeth.

"No. The Black Judge."

"Interesting. I like that. That's a good one to have. Okay, I'll tell you, but if you die before he does or he dies at someone else's hand, I get your soul."

"Deal."

Phobos fades back into invisibility as they step out of Castlevania.