Don't let the name fool you - I promise, this really is PG13.  In progress for now, but this will be a full-length book, hopefully to eventually be a series.  Speaking of which, DOC IF YOU WANT CREDIT, GET YER ARSE IN HERE & HELP ME!   



Floating in the ether, he was aware of his physical surroundings only peripherally.  He stretched out with his senses.  It was time again to hunt.
     
The hunt had not been good lately as too many were avoiding the astral planes.  Word of him must've gotten out.  He chuckled at the irony: while he thrilled at the fear he instilled, these hunts were necessary to his survival. His physical body was sustained by more mundane methods, but for his sanity, his spirit, he prowled.
     
The hunter moved towards the horizon, sensing other lives huddling there.  There was no physicality here, but he could appear as the image of his choice to strike terror in his prey.  Hissing, he bared teeth from a feral, hungry face.  His arms came up in anticipation.  As he drew closer, he could see four – no, five forms huddled together.  The hunter grinned and licked his lips – they were indeed terrified of him, their eyes wide, reminding him of the rabbits he hunted as a boy.  With a thought, he dressed his image in bloody furs to further intimidate his prey.  His heart pounded as he slowly approached.  Even here, the heady perfume of fear whetted his appetite.  There was a brief, perfunctory struggle, but the outcome had never been in doubt.  The pickings were not good, only small, insignificant lives, but he savored them and the blip of power they gave them. 
     
Before he had finished with the last, a sound brought the hunter’s head up.  Energy dripped like blood from his mouth as he searched out the deep, resonating gong that he’d felt more than heard.  It sounded again, and wiping his mouth, he moved towards it, drawn moth-like to the intense but faint power he could sense.
     
It was some time before he reached the source, having needed to stop several times to restore his power with new lives.  He started to worry how long this was taking in the real world; his time sense was not good here on the planes.  He couldn’t leave his body unattended for too much longer.  Not a weak man by any means, he was still vulnerable to physical hunger and exhaustion.  But at last he saw a dull red glow over the insubstantial horizon, pulsing weakly.  He stole one last trifling life and hurried towards it.
     
Now that he was so close, he felt the gong more deeply.  It became insistent, like a toothache, as he came close enough to touch the redness.  He hesitated for only a moment, checking his shields before he dove into the red.  Unafraid, he was still realistic enough to realize caution was prudent. 
     
The red surrounded him, filling his senses.  The power was unlike anything he’d felt before – raw, angry, pure.  It buffered him, attacked him, filled him.  The hunter stood his ground, not allowing it to overwhelm him.  Finally, it seemed to be done testing him and went back to the pulse that filled his view.  It sounded a question in his ear, asking the hunter’s identity.  The hunter checked his shields one last time and gave it the name he had assumed.  It seemed satisfied, responding in kind. 

It told him it was a demon, trapped, and would the hunter help it?  He would be well-rewarded.  The hunter demanded details.  The demon whispered to him of wealth, fame, glory.  The hunter shook his head, uninterested in such petty concerns, and assumed a battle stance.  If it could attract his attention, it could become a threat.  The demon quickly promised the hunter power, akin to what the demon itself possessed yet could not utilize from its prison. 
     
The hunter stopped, thinking behind his strongest shields.  The demon sensed the hunter’s hesitation and pressed him, promising him conquest and destruction.  It would make him a king of men, a god in his own time. 

The hunter did not respond, still considering.  The demon was clearly evil and would surely try to betray him.  He mentally reached out and tested the demon: it was weak only because it was imprisoned.  There was power there, power enough to sustain him for a lifetime.  Power enough to rule in his own right, no matter the demon’s fate.  A slow smile spread across the hunter’s ghostly face as he relaxed his stance and turned back to the demon.