Archeron swung the sword, swiping the air in a perfectly executed slash that would, if an enemy had been present, sliced clean through his left flank. The white haired man moved through the room, slashing, ducking, dodging, and parrying as if he were fighting a real being. The shadowed room, however, was empty, apart from this man. Other than his contained motion, there was no light, not a flicker of movement, a whisper of sound, or even the scent of any other being. After a solid hour of his exhibition, Archeron stopped, panting heavily. It was odd. For some unknown reason, his abilities seemed to be in a state of deterioration. He mentally made the commitment to research this further, and had begun packing up to move to his occult library, when he froze. Slowly, he sheathed his soul stealing sword. He was no longer alone. His hands delved into his coat, and wrapped around the butts of Heaven and Hell. He was not alone. He exploded into motion, firing at the flicker of movement he had seen in the black-upon-black shadows as he leaped through the air, tucking his legs in for a side-flip as he moved, landing perfectly, shell casings surrounding him. A voice spoke behind him, and he whirled, guns at the ready. "Now now, Mister Zarek. That's hardly a fitting welcome for someone who brings you some good news." The man before him said. No not a man. Not quite sure of anything, Archeron didn't lower his weapons.
"Who and what are you?" He demanded, changing the empty clips for new ones. When he looked back up, the thing had disappeared.
"Don't you know? A big bad Hunter like you? But you couldn't even hit me, could you?" The creature grinned. It certainly looked like a man, but Archeron felt it trying to influence his mind and growled in a defeated tone, lowering his weapons.
"Trickster." He acknowledged, holstering his guns with a small smirk. "What is your business here?" The Son of Angelus asked, moving forwards.
"Well..." The Trickster began, flamboyantly, "You see, there's a man on this planet, who's not quite a man. He's more of a Hell Hound, and well...as Heaven is wont to do, they sent an angel, to destroy this man. And he was able to fight it to a stalemate. So now...follow me!" Tricksters knew three chief things among their realm of mysteriousness and power. The first was to be an enigma. Technically, no Trickster had a name, as this could lead to them being controlled. The second was flamboyance and elaboration. Tricksters were masters of the art of showmanship. The third and final thing they know, although by no means the most inconsequential, was that everything could serve a purpose. The Trickster that Archeron was speaking to simply disappeared. Being a Trickster, there were over a hundred ways he could have pulled that stunt. The most popular ways were teleportation, becoming unreal, and invisibility. By the way the Trickster spoke, Archeron figured it was teleportation, and simply piggy-backed the signal, managing to catch the tail-end of the Trickster's teleport signal. As such, he appeared with a loud snap and a cloud of smoke half a second after the Trickster. He did not look around the dwelling place, but judging from what he could see, it was well-kept. The pleasant scent of lemon fragranced cleaning products buffeted his sense of smell.
The Trickster appeared to have split itself into two beings, and now they merged back into one. A Trickster had an almost endless amount of abilities, some of which could not be accurately explained in human terms, and some which were impossible to pronounce in any human tongues. The second thing Archeron noticed was another man in the room. He gave a smile and a nod. The Trickster itself was now stood before them. "You both know why you're here. The simple fact is...neither of you can defeat an angel on your own." It smiled. Tricksters were privy to all kinds of sensitive information, most of which they were not meant to know. "But I brought you together...Like a super bada$$ occult dream team. Together, you can track the angel down, and should beat it." The Trickster smiled. Whatever happened, it would have an excellent show to watch and applaud the victor. And, regardless of the outcome, neither of the two sides had any power over it, or way of hurting it. With a wink and a spin, the Trickster disappeared once more.
"I hate those damn things." Archeron sighed. He turned to the other man and offered him a hand to shake. "Archeron Zarek, son of Angelus, Nephilim, occult hunter extraordinaire." He introduced himself. "You're the Hell Hound that the Trickster referred to?" He asked. "Good show, fighting an angel. Even better that you can stalemate one. Should make our job a lot easier."