by Jodi MacArthur
The demon raced upon the star. Its legs were liquid mercury, its hair onyx and flame. Upon its fingers a platter of twilight sat. A black hole ripped through the platter, an inverted tornado rose from it, sucking the life from the star.
The faster the demon leapt, the more exhausted the star became until the particles loosened and blasted into a thousand dark voids.
The demon fell into the chaos of dead stardust. He licked his mercury fingers and closed the platter of twilight like a book.
“Libra, your scales are unbalanced.” The human crouched upon an air disk, breath tubes inserted into her neck like piercings. She wore a slick white suit and wielded an X-800 Obliteration gun.
Libra held up his fluid fingers and motioned them in the silent tongue they both understood. Says who?
“The Big Eye.”
A giant red eye opened behind the woman. A serpentine slit of sapphire glowed from the iris. Another blink and it was gone.
The woman fired up her X-800. Dark hair fell across her brow. “The Big Eye here by punishes you to the Seventh Hell of Dementia.” She glanced at invisible entities. “Second floor, boys.”
No, no, anything but that! Libra motioned.
“You should have taken your meds.” The woman smiled, aimed and fired.
A bright light shot into his eyes. Arms bundled to his chest, a needle of fire in his shoulder, Libra was rolled away into the void.