November 18, 1983
For miles, a path of destruction was laid out for all the world to see; the ground had been uplifted by an unnatural force, buildings of all types and kinds were thrown about as if they were simply rocks, and once the survivors looked up from beneath the rubble, in the hope that it was all over, was when they saw it.
All language would be insufficient as mankind could not describe how frozen and powerless they became in one instant. Ironic how the living felt as if they remained not, for they had lost all their wit, instead thinking for themselves now, how they came to face such overwhelming dread.
From most accounts, it's described that the devil's whole body was littered with billions of firearms, even proclaiming that its arsenal grew in size every second it rampaged. The main parts of its arms appeared to be rifles, M4 Carbines especially, while other well-known long-distance weaponry protruded from other parts of its body, such as the AK-47, the M16A1, the Mk18, the M24, the MK 13, and the M25.
The torso, a colossus it seemed, was so immensely packed and crowded with millions of shrieking heads; there was a significant likelihood they belonged to the devil's victims. The bones around the chest and hips somehow managed to swivel around and encase the innumerable quantity of dead, keeping them tightly compact so they do not fall out when the monster uses its abilities.
If a person were to stare at its head, they would notice a pair of enormous M1911 barrels and slides emerging from its skull-like face; both were missing their hammers, replaced by a myriad of handheld pistols and revolvers that clung around the back of the cranium.
Finally were the creature's legs, mostly made up of downwards-facing 12-gauge shotguns, each one needing the devil to demolish the ground below in order to remain afloat.
The Gun Devil was thought to be unstoppable; its intention was clear, and its impact evident. Nobody expected to escape its proximity, regardless of their security, background, or age.
But then, precisely at the moment when all hope ought to be lost, was when something miraculous appeared out of nowhere, standing in defiance against the abomination.
"It" stood tall, using its feet to tightly hold onto an intact skyscraper's pole.
Thirteen seconds had passed by already, and "It" saw everything the Gun Devil had caused. All the destruction, loss of life, the inhumanity of it all made "It" boil and burn with rage. "It" then took a moment to stare right at the Gun Devil, directly at its nonexistent eyes.
'You know that I am powerful and cruel' was what "It" guessed the devil was thinking. 'Yet, you still stand against me.'
The Gun Devil abruptly stopped its rampage to examine the strange thing before him, feeling that it might've been worthwhile to check out before adding what it thought to be human to its list of victims.
Yet, upon closer observation, "It" no longer seemed as intriguing as the Gun Devil initially considered, believing the newcomer was simply some fiend or hybrid trying to boost its reputation.
However, to its great surprise, "It" instead propelled itself toward the stronger demon. Apparently, "It" decided now was the time to strike; the Gun Devil followed up this move with a hurricane of shells and slugs from its legs.
As the abnormality flew through the air, dodging bullets and gunfire as well, "Its" appearance became more prominent as it flew out of the black dust and hellfire into the white sky and bright sunshine of the afternoon. It didn't take long for the Gun Devil to realize this was not some hybrid or fiend; "It" was a fellow devil, coming straight at it with unrelenting force.
"Its" entire body was large, muscular, and humanoid in appearance, capable of towering over the average human, and it were clad in an unidentified armor, presumably steel plate, which acted as his skin and was stained in a manner that would resemble blood; a colorful mix of amber, greenish-brown, and dark purplish pigments.
"It" had two arms, short rods protruding from each palm, with an addition of a team of longer mounted rods atop each of the forearms and another rod coming from the center of "Its" forehead; additionally, a transparent ring hovered over the top of "Its" head, a halo made of a thick yellowish-red cloud, suggesting that "It" was, at the moment, acting as some sort of saint or guardian angel for the poor souls down below.
Regardless, by far, the most unbelievable part of this entity was the head, which simply resembled that of a spray can, apart from being ostensibly more enduring than average, obviously human-shaped and sized, and clearly lacking some sort of trigger to activate the now-believed-to-be nozzle located at the center of its forehead.
"It" flew through the air for five seconds before it was within range of the Gun Devil, aiming all four of its forearms directly at the devil's face; surprisingly, the Gun Devil was preoccupied as well, more so on figuring out the true identity of the entity; its head's appearance was so outlandishly simple compared to the rest of its menacing body that it almost infuriated the Gun Devil itself, thinking it was foolish for such a weak-looking devil to try and challenge it.
"I'M COMING FOR YOU..." "It" spoke, incoming wrath, distorted in a heavily guitar-sounding voice. "YOU GUNHEAD MOTHERFUCKER!!"
"GAAAAAAAUUUGGHHHH?" The Gun Devil was so appalled at the outburst that it failed to evade the more diminutive devil, suddenly feeling the lesser demon's forearm and palm rods pierce and enter its neck. "AUUUUAAGH!!" There was no pain, obviously, as they were too small to do any real damage to its immensely skeletal body; a foolish try, it thought. However, it did not mean it wasn't a pleasant feeling either, as it meant itself, too, was as vulnerable to even the most smallish harms as the rest of the vermin it had gunned down.
"JUUAGHHHH..." the Gun Devil growled, aiming practically all of its smaller firearms at the demon that had just signed its death wish by attacking it in such a foolhardy way. "MAAAAAAUAGHG!!"
Unfortunately for the Gun Devil, who was aloof to what was actually going on below, inside of its neck, to be exact, "It" had activated its ability and released a massive yellowish-red pall out of its protruding nozzles or rods, causing blisters to form and blood vessels from the gigantic devil's guns to burst, along with its neck in the process; the gas became so overwhelming and darkened that it obscured the origin's entire body and the Gun Devil's entire neck. "FUUUCK!! I CAN'T BELIEVE NOBODY'S HEARD OF ME YET!! THAT MAKES ME SO 'FUCKIN ANGRY!!" "It" yelled in frustration.
The Gun Devil roared again, but this time, it felt pain, an agony that made it feel as if a gas pipe had just erupted inside of his neck, causing it to become so burnt and smoke-plugged that it couldn't respire to save its own life. This was an unknown emotion, the Gun Devil deemed bitterly, and it was not liked at all.
"It" then skydived off the beast's neck with a badass backflip and aimed its left arm nozzles behind its body, letting out more gas that allowed "It" to fly above the Gun Devil's massive head. "I AM THE EMBODIMENT OF PURE DISCOMFORT OF THE SENSES!!" The Gun Devil began subsequently shooting all of its guns right at "It," somehow missing the tiny demon with most of its ammunition, apart from a stray bullet that managed to shoot off one of the creature's armored arms.
"I AM BANE OF DEVILS, FIENDS, AND HYBRIDS," "It" turned its head, retracted its forehead nozzle partially, and pointed it at its missing limb; in mere seconds, after another yellowish-red blast, "It" completely regenerated the lost arm. "BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY—"
The devil went high past the clouds right before plunging back down with its body, heading towards the Gun Devil's head; its right arm held back, implicating it was about to be used for a hefty punch, puncture, and discharge, while its left kept at a linear 45-degree angle for guarding its already protected head and chest.
"I AM THE AXE MAN!"
March ##, 1987
It was raining, and an seven-year-old, self-reliant and stray, was walking on a dirt road, one of many that led to the devil-inhabited city of Kyoto. His parents were dead, killed brutally last year, bodies so ravaged they had to be cremated. One would assume he would be devastated immensely by this tragedy, but surprisingly, that was not the case at all.
His name is Kancho, and his life sucks.
His parents were irresponsible, foolhardy, and reckless, making rash decisions that seemed to always lead them toward the verge of ruin. This eventually brought way to a desperation that made them even willing to sell their only child for money, something that he was not gonna stay around for. By a stroke of luck, the day before they were about to give him away to some mafia, the two died in a pipeline explosion, and thus, Kancho was able to survive but was also left on his own, which he didn't mind in the slightest. He was evicted from his old house, of course, and began enduring his new life by roaming around his home city and taking whatever he could from unsuspecting persons, stores, and good samaritans. Though Kancho wouldn't stoop so low as to eat garbage or puke, he reckoned that kind of misery should be left to the rats and rodents that reside in Kyoto's alleyways and sewers.
This day, he decided to take a stroll out into the countryside, perhaps to experience real nature for the first time, other than the vermin he saw run around at night. Truthfully, Kancho didn't know why he was doing it, but he probably thought it was way better than just sitting by some dumpster for another full day when he could be doing something new for once. And so, he trekked on a muddy path that led to nowhere except the outer reaches of the city...
"This was a mistake..." Kancho moaned in regret as his clothes were all soaking wet. 'Welp, I'm for sure gonna love sleeping in shit tonight,' he pulled at his shirt's sleeve and squeezed; a lot of water came out. "God... not only that, I haven't seen a goddamn animal for... a mile? Jesus..."
As he kept walking, Kancho started to believe he had wasted all of his time today on the trip, getting nothing in return other than just heavy rain. It was all a joke, he thought. Staying alive at this point was a joke to him. At times, Kancho considered suicide a lot, but deep in his mind, he knew he wouldn't go through with it, so he instead decided to just starve himself days at a time; practice, he declared, all practice until he was actually ready to meet his maker.
'It's been at least three hours without food, which means I'm getting some good time in...' he thought sarcastically, believing that his journey may as well be a death march. "Maybe I can steal some bread from a homeless guy or something—"
"HEY," a strange-sounding voice came from the woods, causing Kancho to stop in his tracks.
He hid behind a tree instinctively and started thinking to himself hastily about what kind of circumstance he found himself in. 'Was I followed? Who just spoke to me right now? Wait, why the fuck did I hide?! This guy had to have seen me! Idiot!'
"Who are you?" Kancho called out, hoping whoever spoke to him was simply some traveler looking for directions. "Speak up!"
"COME OVER HERE," the voice ordered; it sounded like a heavily distorted guitar. "I NEED—"
"KID, I'M GOING TO ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME. COME OVER HERE, NOW." It said, this time, whoever it was starting to sound mad.
'This guy might be trouble...' Kancho considered, but there was no way he was out-running some adult with his wimpy ass body, so he complied hesitantly, grabbing a rock and hiding it behind his back.
"I'm coming out!" Kancho began stepping slowly towards the voice; he would only have so much of an opportunity to smack his weapon over their head; in case they decided to attack him. "Uh, where are you exactly?"
"WHAT PART OF THAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? LOOK AT THE GROUND!"
Kancho followed where the voice was coming from and, as expected, saw nobody. He was getting confused until he kicked something by accident that was buried beneath some mud. "OW! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING FUCKHEAD!"
"Huh?" Kancho threw his rock away and kneeled over, cleaning off what he had just kicked; it was an AXE spray can. "What..."
"FINALLY! FREEDOM FROM THE EARTH! IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE CLEAN AGAIN!" It said, sounding a little bit happier than before.
"What are you...?"
"AH...?! SO NOBODY KNOWS YET? WOW, AWESOME SAUCE! I LOVE PUTTING MYSELF THROUGH ALL THAT BULLSHIT TO GET NO RECOGNITION WHATSOEVER! EXCELLENT NEWS AFTER A... WAIT, WHAT YEAR IS IT, KID?"
"AH! NOT SO LONG AS I THOUGHT, VERY GOOD," It remarked. "MEANS I STILL GOT TIME TO PREPARE AGAIN!"
"Hold on..." Kancho interrupted, getting the thing's attention. "You're a spray can... a bad brand spray can..."
"And you can talk... how the hell can you talk?" He questioned. "Why can you talk?"
"I'M NOT SOME SPRAY CAN, ASSHOLE!!" It stated angrily. "I'M A DE—"
"BEGONE!!" Kancho, upon hearing the letters 'De,' threw the can into the air as hard as he could and began running away back in the direction he came. 'A DEVIL?! NO GODDAMN WAY, DUDE!'
Sadly, something Kancho didn't account for was the fact that the sentient AXE can he just threw had the capability of flying itself back to him through the use of its nozzle.
"SURPRISE, MOTHERFUUCKER!!" Its battlecry became known once it hit Kancho right at the back of his head, knocking him down for the count. "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET, DICKHEAD!" The AXE spray cried triumphantly atop the kid's head. "NOW, ONTO MY—"
Blood began pouring out of Kancho's head; internal bleeding in his brain was a high possibility.
"Muuuh..." Kancho awoke to the sound of something metallic tapping his head lightly; a faint voice could be heard speaking next to him.
"WAKE THE HELL UP ALREADY!! I GOT SOMETHING TO SAY!!"
The AXE that attacked him earlier had been rolling itself back and forth onto his face for a while now, trying to make Kancho awaken from his knockout session. "COME ON, KID! I'M GETTING WINDED HERE!" It said, breathing heavily.
"Uh..." Kancho groaned in response, opening his eyes slowly to see the can from earlier in front of his face; it took him a second to realize what had happened earlier. "OH, FUCK—" he recoiled backward and moved a little bit away from the talking aluminum, knowing full well that it was, in fact, actually a devil. "STAY AWAY FROM ME—"
"SHUT UP! I HELP YOU, AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!"
Kancho didn't understand what it meant until he checked out his injured head; it was completely fixed. "YOU SEE NOW?" He looked at the can skeptically before listening to what it had to say next. "I HELPED YOU, BUT YOU GOTTA GIVE ME SOMETHING IN RETURN FOR THE TROUBLE YOU ALMOST GOT ME BACK INTO!!"
"Help me? But you were the one that attacked me earlier!"
"YOU THREW ME INTO THE GODDAMN AIR!! LIKE A DAMN SOFTBALL OR SOMETHING!!"
"But I helped you out of the mud—"
"YET, YOU FOLLOW UP YOUR GOOD DEED WITH A TOSS LIKE THAT?! YOU WOULD'VE JUST SENT ME BACK INTO THE MUD AGAIN, GENIUS!"
"... Okay, fair point..."
"THAT'S RIGHT!" It remarked with a roll. "BESIDES THAT, I USED UP THE LAST OF MY RESERVES FOR HEALING TO REMEDY THAT NOGGIN OF YOURS, TOO! SO YOU'RE IN MY DEBT EVEN MORE THAN BEFOREHAND!"
This was not good of a situation to be in at all; a debt to a demon? How the fuck was he, of all people, gonna pay it off? "But... I have nothing... literally nothing to neither pay you nor give—"
"WRONG," the devil interrupted. "GIVE IT."
"WHA?!" Kancho exclaimed, flinching a little in disgust; was this devil actually a pedophile or something? "HELL NO, YOU CREEP—"
"NOT IN THAT WAY! AS IN CONTROL! I WANT TO CONTROL IT!" The can reassured him, even though it didn't make the request any more convincing in the slightest. "WHAT KINDA EIGHT-YEAR-OLD ARE YOU TO THINK ABOUT SHIT LIKE THAT?"
Kancho couldn't believe what the devil was asking; it wanted to take over his body, Kancho affirmed, but didn't that mean death? Is it permanent death or something? It was impossible to tell anymore because of all the variants of demons and what they could do to people. "Do I get a choice in this at all?! I don't wanna die today!"
"NOT NOW, YOU IDIOT!! ONLY AFTER YOU EXPIRE," it explained. "THAT WAY, IT WON'T SUCK AS MUCH, RIGHT?"
"Uh..." he articulated, still wondering if this was an excellent time to run away again. "I dunno..."
"BOY, WHEN I LOOK AT YOU, YOUR LACK OF SHOES AND SHITTY ATTIRE, I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT YOU GOT NOTHING EXCEPT YOUR LIFE AND, RIGHT NOW, THIS DEAL WITH ME."
Its words rang true to him, no matter how hard they upset him; he had nothing except the clothes on his back and the life he still retained. "But... what are you going to do until then? I don't think you're just gonna wanna stay by the side of this road for years?"
"THIS BRINGS ME TO MY SECOND REQUEST..."
'Oh, goddamn it— did I just do a fuckup on my luck or something?"
"TAKE ME WITH YOU."
"I HAVE BEEN STUCK HERE FOR ACTUAL FUCKING YEARS. I HAVE LISTENED CONSTANTLY AS PEOPLE AVOIDED ME WHILST I WAS STUCK IN THE MUCK, CALLING OUT TO SOME 'KIND' SOUL TO SAVE ME FROM MY TORMENT," it explained. "BUT THEN YOU, SOME RAGGEDY-ASS CHILD, ASSISTED ME. THEREFORE, IT MAKES SENSE YOU'LL KEEP ME SAFE UNTIL YOUR TIME HAS COME."
'It really doesn't, but...' Kancho wanted to weigh his options but instead simply gave in to the request and tucked the devil can into his shirt's pocket; maybe it could help him get some income in the long run. "Do you have a name, devil? Mine's Kancho, by the way."
"SHOULD BE QUITE OBVIOUS, DON'T YOU THINK? I AM THE AXE DEVIL!" It said with a quick spray of its internal liquids.
"No, as in a real name, not a title or whatever," Kancho clarified.
"AH, WELL THEN... HOW ABOUT YOU GIVE ME A NAME?" It asked humorously. "I MEAN, I HAVE MANY, BUT THEY'RE ALL TITLES."
"Okay..." Kancho took a moment to think of a name, something both easy to say and ironic to a point. "How about I call you 'Ono?'"
"ONO? AS IN AN AXE?"
"Only if you want to be called that," he commented. "Sorry, but I'm not good with names, and I don't recall any name specifically made for the 'AXE' label in Japanese, so..."
"I SHALL TAKE IT!!" Ono liked the name, not because it was easy to say but because it was so highly ironic that it amused him greatly. "SO, WHERE DO YOU THINK WE GO NOW?"
"I don't know?" Kancho figured with a head scratch. "Back to the city, I guess?
"WRONG ANSWER," Honestly, he wondered if this was how Ono would be until his death, considering he might as well kill himself if that were the case. "FOOLISH FOOL."
"You didn't have to add that, dickhead... okay then, so where are we going for real?" Kancho asked, irritated by being called a fool; it was a 'grandma insult,' to be specific. "Do you have a place in mind or something?"
"YES, I DO, BUT WE'LL NEED TO WANDER THE COUNTRYSIDE FOR A BIT."
"Huh? Why?" Kancho really didn't want to stay in the rain; who knows how long Ono meant by 'a bit.'
"DON'T FRET, CHO-BOY," Ono reassured, once again with a new moniker for the kid. "WE'LL FIND HIM AND GET BACK TO CIVILIZATION IN NO TIME."
"Okay... wait, 'him?' Who are we looking for?"
I really wanted to start writing this for a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooong fuckin time (the trailer got me), and I am. SO ENJOY READING!