Fanboys ruin everything

The young survivor had not stood a chance really, armed as he was with little more than a baseball bat and his will to live on. The rosary he wore had signified him as a target, one placed above all other things in the eyes of the demon he had stumbled across; it was a star-crossed day for him, the fox youkai wanted blood. He raised the bat to act as a shield, even as her shimmering blade tore round and tore through the aluminium bat like a hot knife through butter. The boy screamed out in fear as his weapon came to pieces in his hands, though he was quickly silenced as her spare hand slammed into his stomach, penetrating his flesh and filling his world with the bright red blossoms of agony as his blood made a bid for freedom. Shakily he reached up and took a hold of the rosary around his neck; clutching it tightly he began to speak… a quiet and desperate murmur that quickly built into a thunderous crescendo as his courage doubled and redoubled.
‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by thy name. Granteth me the strength to stand against this evil, shieldeth me from the hand of Satan, deliver me from evil and into thine embrace.’ His voice was sure and strong, the faith radiated from every word and he sounded certain that he would endure and live to see another day. The fox demon’s lips twisted into a sneer, something he mistook for a symbol of torment. ‘Back foul demon, get behind me Satan!’ He roared in abject triumph before he suddenly hacked up a large amount of blood; Kagura twisted her hand before pulling it free from the kid’s stomach. As he fell backwards, writhing in agony, she lifted her hand up and gave it an experimental lick.
‘I always wondered what hypocrisy tasted like, now I know.’ She said mockingly. ‘I can smell the blood on you… how many have you slain so far? Zombies or no, those are still people’s bodies out there. What about the infected with powers? Have you cut them down too? Demons… I wonder… did you ever stop to think that we had feelings and emotions of our own?’ Her voice was smooth as silk, but edged with malice; the boy tried to respond, instead coughing up another mouthful of thick red liquid. ‘Of course you did not, your kind never do… your damned Vatican sent so many of your priests to kill those I loved; their crime? Refusing to worship a man nailed to a cross. Men, women, the elderly….one of your ilk actually burned a small girl alive just to prove a point to me and mine.’ The boy coughed up more blood. ‘Oh no, I do not blame the Catholics entirely, you see I was always a little unhinged, it happens when you’re the end result of what a kitsune did to mother when she was defenceless. When your father throws you a knife and tells you, a little girl of barely eight years, to “slay the monster” you know that you are going to end up pretty fucked up. No…I do not blame your kind entirely… I was already a monster. You just gave me a reason, a tangible thing to hate in place of raging at the whole world.’ She placed her foot across the boy’s neck and raised her sword. ‘Your false, murderous god will not save you; all she does is destroy… those innocent, elderly men who served the four great spirits….those who served Bishamonten… I am merely returning the favour, you understand, right?’

WC: 608
WIP