"Alright...this is definitely strange..." Max muttered while scratching the back of his head.
He was sitting alone in his bedroom, at his desk. It was the middle of the night, so his parents and siblings were asleep. The only source of light was his desk lamp. Th light is shining down on the ticket stub, with the only numbers being 11.
"Thought it was a scam, so I threw it away. It came back. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, only to find it in my pocket again. I threw it into the river and watched it drift away. Damn thing was in my pocket, strangely dry. Tried burning it, but it defies logic and doesn't burn..." Max muttered, before he palmed his face.
"Either I'm going crazy, or this ticket is just way too strange..." Max muttered with exasperation and frustration. He leaned back on his chair while narrowing his eyes.
"...Just who the hell was that old man? What's his relation with the tickets..." Max muttered to himself. He sighed once more. "Clearly, asking myself 20 questions and not knowing any of the answers is going to get me somewhere..."
Max stood up from his chair. "Screw it, I'll think about it tommorow-"
He was cut off when he heard some kind of space-like distortion behind him, and a bright red light emerging as well.
He quickly turned around and saw some kind of red colored portal you see from those sci-fi movies. And from the portal emerged a figure.
And the figure wore similar clothes to the old man that gave you a ticket. Only this figure appeared to be in his mid-20s, and had slicked back black hair.
Max could only stand there in shock and alarm upon seeing all of this happen, while the well-dressed young man hummed while looking around his surroundings, and fell back onto him.
"Interesting...so you're my contractor..." the young man muttered.
Silence was made.
"...I'm sorry, what?" Max responded with a dumbfounded look.
Hearing this made the young man go into an "oh" expression upon realizing something.
"Oh, right right, my apologies. Quite rude of my to not introduce myself." the young man responded, before he took off his fedora and bowed.
"The name is Guison, a member of the 72 Demons of Ars Goetia. I'm designated as demon #11. And now that you know my name, we can truly get down to business...which is to say, you'll be helping me in the battles against the Zealots."
Silence was made in the room.
Max could only stare at the person before him in silence, his mind trying to process on what the hell is happening.
And in the end, he could only utter out this one word.
KeybladeWielder97 t1_jedxoor wrote
Reply to [WP] In a crowd, an elderly man dressed in a black suit, leather shoes polished to a shine and a fedora. He passes you a worn ticket stub with the number 11 on it, You discard the ticket only to find it returned to your pocket. It cannot be destroyed, it will not burn, what does the ticket mean? by Blazethebold
"Alright...this is definitely strange..." Max muttered while scratching the back of his head.
He was sitting alone in his bedroom, at his desk. It was the middle of the night, so his parents and siblings were asleep. The only source of light was his desk lamp. Th light is shining down on the ticket stub, with the only numbers being 11.
"Thought it was a scam, so I threw it away. It came back. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, only to find it in my pocket again. I threw it into the river and watched it drift away. Damn thing was in my pocket, strangely dry. Tried burning it, but it defies logic and doesn't burn..." Max muttered, before he palmed his face.
"Either I'm going crazy, or this ticket is just way too strange..." Max muttered with exasperation and frustration. He leaned back on his chair while narrowing his eyes.
"...Just who the hell was that old man? What's his relation with the tickets..." Max muttered to himself. He sighed once more. "Clearly, asking myself 20 questions and not knowing any of the answers is going to get me somewhere..."
Max stood up from his chair. "Screw it, I'll think about it tommorow-"
He was cut off when he heard some kind of space-like distortion behind him, and a bright red light emerging as well.
He quickly turned around and saw some kind of red colored portal you see from those sci-fi movies. And from the portal emerged a figure.
And the figure wore similar clothes to the old man that gave you a ticket. Only this figure appeared to be in his mid-20s, and had slicked back black hair.
Max could only stand there in shock and alarm upon seeing all of this happen, while the well-dressed young man hummed while looking around his surroundings, and fell back onto him.
"Interesting...so you're my contractor..." the young man muttered.
Silence was made.
"...I'm sorry, what?" Max responded with a dumbfounded look.
Hearing this made the young man go into an "oh" expression upon realizing something.
"Oh, right right, my apologies. Quite rude of my to not introduce myself." the young man responded, before he took off his fedora and bowed.
"The name is Guison, a member of the 72 Demons of Ars Goetia. I'm designated as demon #11. And now that you know my name, we can truly get down to business...which is to say, you'll be helping me in the battles against the Zealots."
Silence was made in the room.
Max could only stare at the person before him in silence, his mind trying to process on what the hell is happening.
And in the end, he could only utter out this one word.
"...What?"