Chapter Text
"Adam is... dead." Lute used all his willpower to push the last word out of his throat.
His head was buzzing, her mind still trying to process that her best friend had perished at the hands of demons.
Sera listened to the exorcist's words in shock, her eyes searching for any sign of a lie.
Adam had make a prank like this before. She was hoping to hear "I got you, bitch!" echoing through her office.
But all that remained was silence.
"...How?" Sera felt she was going to regret hearing it.
"Stabbed in the back... Countless times." replied the faithful exorcist.
The exorcist kept her eyes on the ground, squeezing her friend's halo so hard that golden blood ran down the fingers of her only arm.
"Dismissed Lieutenant." Lute didn't say a word before striding off.
Sera spent a few seconds motionless, struggling to digest the terrible truth. The first winner, the first man and her longtime friend is dead.
The only one who did everything to follow the right path in life, even though he suffered and hated himself for the mistakes he didn't make...
He perished at the hands of the bastards from hell.
"Sera?" Her sister's soft, frightened voice snapped her out of her emotional spiral.
"Did something happen?" Emily was cautious and... nervous, why?
"Ah..." The high seraphim understood. Looking at her reflection in the window, she saw countless eyes spread across her body, all holding back tears that threatened her dress.
"Leave me alone, Emily."
"I can't leave you alone in this stat-."
"THAT'S AN ORDER!" Joybringer retreated a few steps. She had never seen her sister in this state.
She wanted to stay, she wanted to understand what was disturbing her peace, but all those angry eyes stopped her from even trying.
Defeated, Emily opened a portal, casting a worried glance at her sister before disappearing.
The high seraphim felt bad about the way she had treated her beloved sister, she had never raised her voice to her before.
"She'll understand." Yes, she will. After she hears the bad news.
A sick feeling gripped her chest. As if a piece of her had been ripped out.
She breathed in and out slowly, finished her cup of tea and even counted to ten. All to suppress the overwhelming urge to scream.
'He was a horrible person now, he sought it out,' she told herself.
Petty, misogynistic, arrogant, narcissistic, prideful and many other bad adjectives fit that man.
But he wasn't always like this.
The sweet, kind, selfless, humble and caring Adam was buried by the betrayals, frustrations and disappointments of his long life.
And all that was left was a gruff man and a perfect armor of arrogance and disdain to repel anyone who came near.
But if you stayed, if you withstood the ordeal of being by his side. You could still catch a glimpse of the old Adam.
She hoped that one day he would recover, that the old Adam would return. That the goodness she had cultivated in her heart would finally see the light of day again.
Damn the time she listened to Michael's advice.
Why didn't she let him recover in time? Why did she let him lead the massacre of his own descendants?
No, she can't think about that now.
She slowly walks to her chair, a big mistake.
As soon as she stood in front of her desk, one of the photos caught her eye.
Her trembling hand took it carefully, as if it would fall apart at the slightest touch.
There were the four of them, her, Emily, Lute and Adam. She was smiling softly, Emily was smiling radiantly, hugging the high seraphin and the first man, and Lute had a neutral face, but his hands were holding the hands of the first man, who had already ruined six other photos by showing his middle finger.
'What did his face look like?' She couldn't remember. Millennia had passed, and that mask had never left his face, only been updated. Once a metal mask with a static golden smile that covered only his face, now with LEDs and horns that covered his entire head.
He looked happy in this photo, but she knew it was far from the truth.
Slowly she hugged the picture frame, trying to remember the best moments she had with her first creation.
----------
Meanwhile in hell, a little devil ran for his life.
Why did he come up with the idea of taking a job delivering drugs in Pentagram City? Most, if not all, of the sons of bitches there hated devils.
Of course, his mentality of always seizing the opportunity to make good money spoke louder than his sense of self-preservation.
It's just a quick run, back and forth on the same day, a piece of cake. Of course, the psychopaths here would just ignore him.
Foolish
"Come here, shorty. I just want to talk." A bear-like man wearing tight gray pants, a baggy leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and a pair of ram-like horns came at us at full speed.
'Argh, even his voice screams sexual predator. Sometimes he wondered why some imps dreamed of moving to this crazy town.
The bear man was a few paces away, and you could hear his lard swaying and his heavy breathing scraping the back of the desperate imp's neck.
Just in time, the short imp dodged the predator's clutches, entering an alley full of garbage, used condoms and a drunkard passed out at the entrance..
'Focus!' Yes, he needed focus to think about how to escape from that dead end.
Now he only had one chance to leave with his life and anal virginity intact, a leap from the garbage can to the fire escape.
It was now or never.
But as soon as he jumped into the trash can, he slipped on some sticky fluid that he prayed wasn't what he was thinking, slamming his broken horn into the brick wall.
He stood up slowly and painfully, feeling like a complete failure, he was supposed to be agile to compensate for his size.
"It was fun." A disturbingly thin voice sounded in his left ear, the fall of which made him forget what the fuck he was running from.
The sinner slowly took off his jacket and threw it on top of the fallen garbage can, showing his hairy chest that rose and fell heavily with excitement.
He looked at the imp as if it were a feast while he hurriedly unbuckled his belt.
"Wait a minute, let's tal-." The bear's huge hand went straight for his throat.
"No talking, I want my prize." The predator's hot breath sent a shiver down the poor imp's spine.
The little imp tried his best to free himself, which excited the bear even more. He was now tearing at the poor guy's denim shorts.
"I'm going to make you moan my name like a little whore."
That sentence marked the end of his life.
'Well, it was good while it lasted...' Who was he kidding, his life was shit, and this ending would be the fucking icing on the cake.
Raped, killed and possibly raped again.
In his last moments, his mind wished that his tormentor would be early.
Wait a minute! The drunk from before has woken up. Has luck finally smiled on the poor imp?
He took out his cell phone and... What? The son of a bitch is recording hiding behind the garbage can... And he starts jerking off...
God damn it, I hate this fucking city.
'Damn, is it too much to ask for a minimally normal person to show up?'
As if Satan had heard his prayers, a loud flapping of wings was heard above them. In an abrupt landing, the winged creature stopped a few meters from the sinful bear.
The imp expected it to be another inveterate wanker, but this guy seemed uncomfortable with what he was seeing.
"Get lost, pigeon." The bear growls at the newcomer, who is analyzing the scene in front of him.
"Give me your jacket." The bear laughed at the stranger's audacity.
"Sure, do you want the pants too?" The bear man said sarcastically.
"No, those pants would make me fatter than the bitch who gave birth to you."
"What did you say, you son of a-" The bear man was paralyzed, you could see him trembling from meters away.
"You were supposed to be dead!" The bear almost shouted, its irritatingly thin voice scratching at the imp's brain.
These words irritated the stranger.
"Who would have thought that the leader of the exorcists would join us?" The bear was laughing now.
"Looks like I've got a new toy." The bear released the imp, who thanked Satan for this sacrificial lamb.
'Better others than me. That was the imp's motto.
The predator's heavy footsteps approaching the stranger echoed down the alley, now he was face to face with him.
"I'm going to make you moan my name like a litt-" The bear couldn't finish.
In the blink of an eye, the stranger moved in, punching so hard that the sinner's teeth reached the fire escape.
The unknown man dug his claws into the predator's right shoulder. And with a jerk, he tore off the arm of the unfortunate man, who fell to his knees on the ground moaning and muttering obsequiously
"You son of a bitch! When I get back I'm going to rip your fucking wings off!" The bear's strangely thin voice almost made the imp laugh at the bizarre situation.
The threat brought a sadistic smile to the stranger's face.
Oh really?" The stranger asked. The smile becoming smug as he approached the bear.
The predator became desperate, his remaining arm rummaging through his right-hand pocket until he finally found a pocketknife.
Wasting no time, the sinner tried to stab the stranger in the stomach with all his might, only for the blade to break on impact.
The stranger's face contorted with hatred, breathing heavily as his eyes pierced the bear's soul.
"I liked that shirt." He proclaimed in a surprisingly calm tone, even though his face showed the complete opposite.
"No, wait. Sorry-" In an instant, the stranger dug his claws into the sinner's sides and flew upwards at absurd speed, the bear's shrill scream disappearing into the eternally red sky.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Again a mocking voice was heard in his left imp ear.
The mad who had just disappeared into the sky was standing next to him.
"But how-"
The finger of the stranger's huge hand silenced him.
"Shh, bitch. Let's set some ground rules here."
"If you speak even a fucking 'a' without my permission, you'll suffer the same fate as the weirdo over there." The stranger pointed to the end of the alley.
There? But there's nothing there.
As soon as these words crossed his mind (he's not crazy enough to contradict this psychopath), a familiar shrill scream was heard, growing louder by the second.
With a deafening thud, the body fell right in front of the imp. Crashing heavily to the ground, it was possible to hear all the bones of the unfortunate man breaking in front of him, the warm blood splashing on the imp's cheek in shock.
He was still breathing.
"Do you understand, dwarf?" The imp shook his head as if his life depended on it, and it does.
"Do you have a house?" An awkward silence surrounded the two of them, interrupted by drowned bear breaths.
'What? What kind of fucking question is that?'
"Are you fucking deaf? Do you have a place to live?"
-"Y-yes, sir. I have an apartment." Well, "have" is a very strong word and "apartment" is not the best word to define the hole he lives in.
"Perfect. Where is it? I'm fucking exhausted."
'Wait a minute, he wants to sleep at my place?
"How can I know you won't kill me once we get there?"
He was slightly annoyed by the question.
"Relax, I just want a place to sleep where there's no risk of being stabbed or molested in my sleep." Said the man casually wearing the jacket of the man he had just killed.
'Yes, take it. It's your only chance of getting out of this alive.
"And what's in it for me?" Holy shit, where are the self-preservation instincts when you need them?
'If he wasn't angry before, he will be now...'
'Is that motherfucker laughing?
Yes, he was, at the top of his lungs, by the way. You could see his pointed yellow teeth reflecting the witchy light of the "moon".
In this uncomfortable situation, the imp took the opportunity to observe the guy who saved him and now seems to want to live in his house.
He was a tall guy, almost 3 meters tall, his horns almost reaching that mark. His hands were completely black, covering his forearms. His skin was as pale as snow- well, he'd seen snow on TV, so he couldn't tell if it was really the same.
And finally, his clothes. Pants torn at the knees, brown boots and a loose black shirt with a pentagram in the center.
It seemed to form an "A" in the center.
The stranger wiped away his tears and returned to his posture.
"I like you, shorty, you must have the biggest fucking balls in this place... Not as big as mine, but who's measuring."
"What the fuck do you want?" That's what your courage/stupidity has led to. Now just ask for something simple.
"I want protection." The mad seemed to think. His finger tapping lightly on his chin as he looked up.
"Fuck it, fine. But I want a few things in return." Holy shit, here it comes.
"W-what do you wa-want?"
"W-What do yo-you wa-want? Stop stammering, pussy. Where's your fucking courage?" The man sneered, bending down a little to reach the imp's shoulder, who remained silent as he shook violently.
"I only need two things, information and an apartment. Can you manage?" The powerless man could only accept the terms, nodding slightly in agreement.
"Finally." The imp almost jumps when the stranger holds out his hand.
"What's that for?" asks the confused imp, pointing to the hand in front of his face.
"A deal, isn't that how little bitches from hell work? As long as I live with you, I'll protect you and in return you'll give me housing and some information." The guy said it like it was the simplest thing in hell.
An agreement? With an imp? Has it happened before? Can he do it?
We'll know.
"I accept the deal." The imp's small hand clasped three of the stranger's fingers. His heart was in his throat, afraid of exploding for trying to sign a contract with a sinner.
...
Something was supposed to happen, wasn't it?
The moment it crossed his mind, the darkness of the alley crept up on the man in front of him. Circling them both.
The imp tried to pull his hand free, but something was holding him back. It certainly wasn't the man, who was just as scared as he was.
"What the fuck?" The man seemed amazed and at the same time terrified by the darkness that surrounded them.
For a moment the imp could have sworn he saw the silhouette of a woman hugging the man's shoulders, a wide red smile brushing against his ear, but he didn't seem to notice.
And just as it began, the black whirlpool stopped.
They were both panting, apparently it was their first time on a contract. And they certainly don't want to do another one any time soon.
"That was fucking weird..." muttered the man, examining the imp and himself in search of something strange.
"Yeah..." agreed the imp.
An uncomfortable silence reigned for a few seconds, until the man broke it.
"Now, where's your fucking house?"
"In another city?" The man's face contorted with anger.
Holy shit, now he wants to kill him.
Thanks to Satan, he only let out a tired and disgruntled boo. Without asking permission, the man grabbed the imp around the waist with both hands and began to fly.
"If you don't point out to me where your house is, I'M GOING TO THROW YOU OUT OF HERE AND THEN KISS YOU IN YOUR FUCKING HEAD." The imp quickly pointed to the town at the end of the ring of pride.
The man began to fly gently towards the city, he really was tired.
Today was a shitty day for the imp, from delivering drugs and almost getting raped, to making a deal with a freak.
The view from the top almost made all that shit worthwhile.
"Sir? What is your name?"
The frown on the man's face softened, an almost amused smile passed his lips.
"Call me Dickmaster."
Chapter 2
Notes:
oh shit, here we go again.
One thing I wanted to say is that the kiss threat was a translation error, but I'll leave it, because it will be funny to use that in the future.
Chapter Text
When his vision gazed into existence, all he could see was emptiness. He looked for something to latch onto, but there was nothing there but him.
Today he can tell himself that he felt fear and loneliness at that moment.
He moved from side to side, up and down in search of someone, something, anything.
Until he felt there was something in one direction, the same direction he came from.
He followed the sensation euphorically, his shape deforming with his desperate movements.
Until he finally arrived. And there he saw six other shapes, all different, whether in size, color or how bright they were.
But at the same time... they were all the equals.
Your equals.
The golden form was huge, certainly the biggest of them all. He was very cautious back then, not so different from today.
The second emanated a green light, even though it was a little smaller, its glow was just as strong as the first. A glow that erased his anguish at the time.
The third emanated a pink light. It was the third largest, but its light was so weak. Today he understands why it was like that.
The fourth was dark blue, smaller than the third, but its light was much brighter and emanated a strangely comfortable sensation.
Today he can understand what that feeling was like.
And the last two were... different. Being the two smallest in the group, they stood apart from their peers.
Until the red form took courage and approached. The sounds he made were confused and disorganized, but they all understood what he was saying.
He asked for their names...
That question stunned everyone.
"What's a 'name'?" he asked himself.
He felt something rise up inside him, and soon realized that he wasn't the only one.
"Michael." The golden light began.
"Raphael." The green light followed suit.
"Jophiel." The pink light spoke faintly.
"Seraphiel." The blue light replied calmly.
"Gabriel." The cyan light looked lively.
But it didn't come close to the excitement of the last one. its light almost blinded everyone present.
"Lucifer!" A wave of light spread through the empty space.
Michael wasn't so happy with that demonstration.
Raphael was worried that it would hurt the others.
Jophiel seemed happy with the red around him.
Seraphiel was neutral about it, but I could tell that the enthusiasm had infected her a little.
Gabriel calmly observed the whole festival before deciding to join in.
The red and cyan mixed in that empty space, the pink didn't hold back and expanded its weak light, mixing them until new colors flooded the whole wide void.
The others couldn't resist the joy they were seeing and joined in, emanating their light throughout the emptiness.
"What's your name?" Well, it looks like someone resisted.
Michael's words drew the attention of the others. Only now did they notice his silence.
"My name is-"
"METATRON!" The loud shout snapped him out of his flashback.
He was deeply grateful for that.
even if you made him fall off his office chair.
"What a fright Sera!" The Seraphin stood up quickly and then fixed his white tie and adjusted his ponytail.
Apart from the biggest fright he'd had in decades, he was happy to see his sister.
"You could have knocked... Are you all right?" His sermon was stopped when he noticed the tall Seraphin's state of mind.
Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were puffy and her clothes were wrinkled.
"You know why I'm in this state." Yes, he knew very well.
Her first creation was gone.
He personally didn't care so much about Adam (anymore), he knew that many of the Heavenborn didn't like the first man's attitudes.
Metatron may admit that he was annoying, but luckily for the celestial scribe, the first man's actions were always contained within his social circle.
Even if his foul language was impossible to contain, it was still possible to have a reasonable conversation... Well, not that the scribe had much free time for one.
'I'm rambling, aren't I?'
"Yes, you are." Sera's annoyed reply snapped him out of his thoughts.
It wasn't his fault, his work kept him alone for decades. The only alternative left to stave off the madness was to let his mind flow.
And talking to myself was part of the package.
Unfortunately, this led to a serious problem with nostalgia and the regrets caused by memories of the past that always come back at random moments.
"What do you need Sera?" He already had an idea of what it might be.
'Ah, the advantage of watching every step of every being in creation...'
This came out more creepy than it should have been.
"His scroll." Just as he predicted.
"You know I can't provide that." It's not a good idea to hand over the scrolls/archives of someone's life.
'Why?' He asks a question (to himself).
Many of the first winners requested not only their files, but those of their relatives to find out why they didn't suffer the same fate in death.
You can already guess how they reacted when they learned the true face of their companions and families.
"I just need a closure, please Tron." She used her nickname, a clear indication of her desperation.
Damn, I'm going to regret this, aren't I?
With a snap of his fingers, a portal opened in front of him, indicating for Sera to follow. The scribe and the high Seraphin stepped through the portal, coming face to face with a stone building, moss already surrounding the entrance.
Walking slowly down the dimly lit corridor, the scribe wonders if he should change the decor of the place, it seen so... gloomy, to be from heaven.
At the end of the corridor there was a safe with a lock, only one key in all of existence could open this place.
With his right hand, Metatron began to pull on the string around his neck, in it was the blessed key. With a quick introduction followed by a satisfying click, the heavy door finally opened, revealing a wide corridor as long as his existence, surrounded by shelves on both sides.
And all of them, without exception, were full of scrolls.
Each one told the story of the life and death of every living being that had ever existed. No matter how irrelevant their life was, their every move was recorded and archived by the scribe.
It was a pain to organize them all.
Luckily, the files they wanted were on the first shelf on the right.
Ten parchments rest there, buried by millennia of dust.
"Let's see... Michael, no. Raphael, no. Jophiel, no. Seraphiel, obviously no. Gabriel, no..." You could see his disgust when he skipped one of the scrolls.
But then he grabbed a scroll with a golden bow.
"Here, Adam... what?" Será was alarmed by her brother's shocked face.
"Tron." He didn't answer.
"Metatron!" Suddenly he dropped the parchment on the floor and ran out of the millennial hall.
Sera thought about going after him, but her goal spoke louder.
Walking slowly, she crouches down to pick up the parchment.
Her caution in opening it did not spare her the storm of words that flooded her vision.
She understood the scribe's shock, and couldn't have been more relieved.
_______
Meanwhile in hell, an imp was going crazy, his friend had just brought home a fucking sinner.
Are you telling me that flying idiot threatened to kiss you?" Lean was pissed at his friend.
The bitch had been missing for two days and now she came home with a giant fucking sinner.
He was the one who got him out of the house, sending the bum to find some shit to make money to begin with.
But he thought he'd come back the same day saying he'd found a job in a fast-food place, not that he would come back with... that.
"Is that really what got you interested in all the shit I told you?" Of course I was going to get his attention with a fucking kiss threat.
"Of course, that wasn't the weirdest shit, but it does attract attention."
...
"Touché." Fuck, Noraa didn't want to have to deal with this now. He doesn't even know what to do with the crazy guy sleeping on the sofa.
"Mini sluts can shut the fucking up!" Speak of the devil.
He was sprawled on the sofa, his legs resting on the coffee table. His black forearm was covering his eyes.
"Man, it's already noon." The imp with the broken horn walked cautiously over to the man who was now furiously pressing the buttons on the remote control.
"The TV is broken." Lean quickly takes the remote control out of the sinner's hands.
An annoyed snort echoed around the room.
"You may have fooled that retard Noraa, but I know who you are." The sinner stiffened.
'Shit, shit, shit.'
"You just have to sink your dick into that fat ass." Wait, what?
"What the fuck are you talking about, freak?" The sinner looked deeply disgusted by the idea.
"What the fuck, Lean?" Was your ass fat?
'Focus!' He needs to stop his reckless friend from killing himself by annoying the guy who dismembered a sinner with his bare hands.
"You sinners are all the same. You never miss an opportunity to take advantage of an idiot, retarded, naive, oblivious, brainless person like Noraa."
I know he wants to defend me, but holy shit!
"I'm sure you're just waiting for that idiot to get dependent so you can unleash your depraved side." The sinner stared in horror for a good thirty seconds at the red-haired imp before speaking.
"Relax your ass, I don't want to fuck your boyfriend." That's out of line.
"He's my friend!" The words hurt Lean deeply.
Lean looked sorrowfully at his friend.
"But that night-" Anyone who saw the red-haired imp's indignation could now believe that he was hurt.
But Noraa has known this cynic for years to know when he's making fun of him.
"By Satan. Lean please, I don't have time to deal with your bullshi-."
A bang sounded at the front door, as if someone had used a battering ram.
'Who could it be?
The liquidator isn't, it's too early for him to have got his ass out of his chair. Neither is the loan shark, he's on his "day off" (as if collecting money were exhausting). All that's left is...
"YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK DOWN THE DOOR, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Lean was already in front of the door, much to Noraa's dismay.
"WAIT, NO OPE-" Too late.
When Lean's hand touched the doorknob, it flew at him, knocking him into the wall on the other side of the room.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN STEAL CRAZY DOGG AND LEAVE IN ONE PIECE, YOU FAT BITCH!"
Was he really fat? Are the exercises at home no longer working?
'Don't fucking think about it now!' His focus should have been on the gray hellhound foaming with rage.
He's fucked, really fucked!
The creaking sofa reminds me of the frightened imp of someone very important.
"Dickmaster!"
...
Okay, that came out more girly than it should have.
His voice has thinned because of the pressure, don't judge him.
Standing in front of the imp, there he was, his savior. With a smile from ear to ear on his face.
The sinner cracked his knuckles as he approached the impressed wolf.
The hellhound was paralyzed, sinners are usually tall, but its front was gigantic. Its horns practically grazed the ceiling.
"Do you think your sugar daddy will save you?" The gray wolf sneers.
The hellhound suddenly raises its claws to try and slash the sinner. Blood drips from his chest, from the dickmaster, his shirt once again being damaged.
But it wasn't his blood.
Lean, who has just recovered, is stunned by what he sees, one of Crazy Dogg's strongest henchmen holding his paw while he cries softly like an abandoned dog.
Noraa was both elated and terrified by the sight, it was a bizarre spectacle to see the invulnerability of her protector.
But it was always terrifying to see his face contort with rage.
"Three meters off target and you're aiming AT MY FUCKING SHIRT!" His claws go straight into the furry's collarbone, knocking him off the ground.
Lean soon realized what the sinner was doing.
'He's going to break this guy in half!
"Wait! You don't have to do that." To Lean's relief, Noraa intervenes.
"It'll be a bitch to clean up. Just throw it out the window." My boy. I knew you'd have the same thought.
Dickmaster turned his attention to the broken horn imp.
"You know he'll come back for revenge, don't you?"
"No! I'm not going!" The frightening hellhound gave way to a frightened puppy.
I almost felt sorry for the asshole.
This idiot would rather be thrown from the 9th floor? Well, at least he has a chance of getting out alive.
Said and done. The sinner walked casually to the window, opened it and threw the hellhound out like a sack of garbage.
_______
Blitzø was walking quietly down the sidewalk after shouting in every bar he could find about his successful venture.
After all, advertising is the lifeblood of business. And so are false offers.
A few meters from the bald imp, a gray hellhound with broken legs was crying out for help.
"Oh my Satan!" The moved imp approached quickly.
Just to take the dying man's wallet.
"It's my lucky fucking day!" The imp set off whistling with happiness.
Completely oblivious to the living hellhound hurling the worst curses he could imagine at him.
_______
"We should have taken his wallet." Watching the imp whistling in the street, the two friends felt stupid for losing that stuffed wallet.
Noraa turned her attention to her protector just behind them, his eyes focused not on the dying wolf, but on the huge clawed tear in the chest of his shirt.
The imp saw something strange there.
"Are you hurt?" This brought the sinner out of his thoughts.
"As if that damned mongrel could." His tone was haughty, but his face...
He looked disappointed.
"If you want, I can sew the shirt for you." The sinner seemed surprised, looking suspiciously at the imp.
"Trust me, man. There's nothing our lowly femboy can't sew up." Lean said, slapping Noraa's back a little too hard.
"If it were true, I'd have sewn the son of a bitch's mouth shut by now." The imp retorted in an aggressive tone, but with a silly smile on his lips.
"Oh, I know you love me." Lean slung his arm around his friend's shoulders, the two of them laughing at their eternal game of insults.
The sinner looked at them with a neutral expression.
"Where's the bathroom?" The imps' laughter ceased.
They both pointed to the end of the corridor.
The two watched the sinner walk with heavy steps towards his destination.
"Do we have a towel for his size?" Noraa asked a question.
"Is there a towel for his size?" Lean returned with a better question.
_______
In the bathroom, the sinner... Adam, was looking at himself in the mirror, contemplating the aberration he had become.
His teeth became as sharp as daggers.
His hands were now clawed and covered with a dark stain up to the forearm.
His halo had been replaced by a pair of horns curving backwards, the tips resembling those of a harpoon.
And his greatest pride, his perfect golden wings, were now black with a dirty look.
No more thinking about new shit.
Because the old ones still existed.
He was still fat, strangely not as fat as before.
His dark circles were still deep, but now they looked worse.
And his skin, which was already pale, now had the color of a corpse...
"At least the eyes are still fucking great." Yes, they were still as golden as gold.
They were proof that he was still divine.
And he hates it. He hates his fat body. He hates his stupidly ordinary face. He hates how demonic he looks. And he hates how well it fits him.
But above all, he hates being alive...
Except that he apparently isn't.
Yes, it's fucking confusing.
'I'm fucking breathing, how the fuck am I not alive?' he argues to absolutely no one.
But the perfect counter-argument was under that shirt.
Under the black wool of his shirt, all seventeen bloody holes were there.
But they didn't bleed, they didn't hurt and they didn't recover.
They were like the cuts made on a corpse.
"Looks like that mini bitch didn't do her job properly."
Unfortunately, it's up to the first man to finish the job.
Chapter 3
Notes:
Hi, sorry for the delay, the internal debate about whether to post or not was mainly responsible.
In this chapter you will see my dyslexia in full swing, I apologize in advance.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"This can't be happening."
The scribe is on the verge of madness, he has returned to his office atlightning speed, crossing his fingers that what he has seen is just a simple bug.
But nothing was simple when it came to his work.
In front of his beloved old computer, the scribe's nimble fingers typed in the serial number of the first man's parchment.
His fears were realized when he saw the status of the first man.
Dead.
He's definitely dead.
But how was he still moving, breathing and talking?
The scribe could only theorize.
"METATRON!" A shout sent a shiver down the scribe's spine.
"WHERE IS HE?" His kind and patient sister is one step away from tearing his skin off.
'That's kind of obvious,' the scribe would say, if he didn't love his own life.
At such times he hates being the weakest of the seven.
"I-I don't know."
"HOW THE HELL DO YOU NOT KNOW?" The scribe winced at the
shout. Even if he knew that (maybe) she wouldn't hurt him.
It was hard not to fear a mother's wrath.
Yes, mother. Even though she vehemently refuses this title, her actions have always given the impression that she was even too attached to her upbringing.
The blind eye she turned to his behavior and antics, always coming to his defense tooth and nail every time his brothers reconsidered the first man's stay in heaven.
And of course, disregarding the gratuitous genocide that was the first extermination.
It's comical to hear her say that 'loves all the winners equally'.
"You'd better sit down." Seraphiel's eyes narrowed, but with a little insistence, she reluctantly did so.
Okay, now just subtly address your theory.
"He's dead." Her fingers tore at the arm of the armchair.
'Great job Metatron, why don't you say that you suspected Lucifer would fuck up in Eden?'
Before she could object, he continued.
"My theory is that..." It was hard to say that to her.
"someone is using his body." Pain flashed through Sera's eyes, soon to be replaced by confusion, which quickly turned into a knowing look.
She already has an idea who did it.
"When I catch that bastard..." She's going to burn that wretch's soul for the audacity of desecrating Adam's body.
The scribe didn't hear his sister's murmur, he was more focused on showing her what he saw on that parchment.
Gently taking the parchment from Sera's hands, he summoned a transparent sphere and inserted the parchment into it, causing the sphere to reproduce everything written on the parchment.
What had once been a confusing storm of sounds and words for Sera. Now seemed like third-person recordings of the first man's
life.
The sphere presented what he had seen in the first seconds of his life, his creator. Her eyes filled with tears of joy as she saw her creation smile at her.
Metatron heard a barely contained sob.
He quickly moved on to the death of the first man, at which point they both saw Adam's gentle smile before he breathed his last.
Sera gripped the arms of the armchair even tighter, the thin waterfall of tears that leaked from her eyes turning into a flood as she saw the unworthy end of her creation.
The moment the first man closed his eyes, the sphere darkened and the sounds fell silent.
That would normally indicate the end, but that wasn't the case.
Even with the sphere as dark as night, the sound didn't stop, turning into a veritable cacophony of shouts and murmurs.
Even in that chaos, a distorted but sweet voice rose above the mess.
"Why..." The divine beings looked at each other wondering if they had heard the same thing.
That voice was familiar.
The sphere exploded like a soap bubble, leaving the parchment floating in front of the scribe.
"What happened?" Será was perplexed by everything she had seen.
"The sphere wasn't designed for this kind of situation." To demonstrate, the scribe created another sphere as soon as he introduced the
parchment and changed for the moment after death, it disappeared.
The scribe felt urged to test it on other projectors, but the long sigh made him forget that idea.
"We should tell the council." Even though he was a corpse, the first man's body was too strong to be left at the mercy of someone with ill-intentions.
Sera didn't hear Tron's words, that voice never left Seraphin's head. She's sure she's heard it eons ago, but whose is it?
"Sera!" Seraphin almost fell off her chair. The scribe felt vindicated.
Her sister thought for a few seconds. Straightening her posture, the seraphin gave her answer.
"I'll look into it." Opening a portal, she straightened her dress and wiped away the rest of her tears.
"Don't tell the council."
"You know I can't do that."
"Give me five days."
"What? Have you even thought about the disaster that could happen?." She's not in her right mind if she thinks he'll take the
risk.
"Please Tron, just give me this five days. I'm going to recover Ada-the body of the first man." That sad look again.
'Damn' With an exasperated look, he replied. "All right. You've got five days, it's only five days to sort it out."
The scribe asked an important question before she disappeared into the portal.
"Do you have any idea where in hell the body should be?"
"No, but I know who you must be with." She practically snarled her reply with a murderous look before disappearing into the portal.
I'm glad it wasn't aimed at him.
Alone once again, Metatron recapped the events, various theories about the first man running through his mind.
He could have come back as a sinner, being the opposite of the soul which is themost tense subject of the council... No, the
situation of death is completely different.
Someone powerful could have revived him... No. Not even the most powerful being (whom he disgusted to call brother) could do that, not to mention the fact that he hated the first man
with fervor.
All that remains is the possibility that someone or
something is using his corpse.
He could have told his sister the other theories, but the scribe had never been the most optimistic being and knew how devastated she would be if her first theories were wrong.
The scribe sighed heavily, running his fingers through his long ponytail, silently measuring the length.
It doesn't seem like your ten-year break has arrived yet, but your mind is begging for a rest after all this mess.
The scribe turned off the old computer and finished his cup of coffee. Opening a portal to his beach house.
"Damn it." He had to return the parchment to the safe.
The scribe looked back to where he had left it, confused when he didn't find it floating next to his desk.
'Had it fallen?' He checked the floor, the table, under the chair and even near the Sera-gate.
"Ah... Sera."
______
Meanwhile in hell, an imp was slowly and precisely sewing a shirt that could easily be mistaken for a blanket because of its size.
It shouldn't have taken so long to sew up those slits, but the sinner's watchful eye was making everything more uncomfortable.
No way, the imp won't stand a second of this awkward silence. "Aren't you hungry D?"
The sinner raised an eyebrow. "D?"
"It's just that Dickmaster is too long to use all the time." And also embarrassing to say out loud.
The sinner's gaze became even more questioning. "No-not that it's a bad name, it's imbecile-I mean it's a cool name. Badass haha.ha..ha..." The imp's nervous laughter slowly died down as the
sinner's face turned into a grimace.
"Did you really think that was my name?"
...
"Ohh." Why didn't he think it would be a fucking nickname?
"Sorry, D. It's just that I've seen so many sinners with stupid names. It seems that even their mothers hate them." The sinner's short but amused laugh confirmed that the imp had managed to improve the mood in the room.
A comfortable silence reigned in the room, as Noraa sat on her bedroom puff, being as agile as possible with her sewing. The sinner was on the imp's tiny bed, staring at the pentagram on
the moon through the room's broken window.
"If Dickmaster isn't your name" The imp began without taking his eyes off his shirt.
"So what is it?"
Silence reigned once again, much more uncomfortable than before.
'Is he angry or did he just ignore me?' Noraa hated being ignored, but she was hoping that was the case.
The imp with the broken horn moved his gaze slowly towards the sinner, finding him paralyzed, his eyes darting from side to side, as if searching for the pros and cons of answering the imp's
question.
After minutes that seemed like hours, he answered.
"My name is-"
"BUSTED YOU." A red-haired imp kicked open the door, startling them both.
Noraa pricked her finger in fright, and the sinner raised his right hand as if expecting something to come out of it.
As soon as he recognized the imp, Adam sighed tiredly. In the two days he'd been living with the fat bitch and her boyfriend, there hadn't been a moment when the red-haired bitch hadn't
had her eyes glued to him.
"What is it this time Lean?" It seems that talking to this idiot wasn't enough, Noraa thought.
The newcomer methodically examined the room in search of something that only existed in that depraved redhead's head.
They stopped at the sinner, and he gave him a firm look, like a detective looking for a suspect's confession, making him want to throw the imp out of the window.
"For the last time, I don't want to fuck your boyfriend." At this point Adam was one hundred percent sure that it was some fetish of the redhead.
The imp obviously didn't believe it, but preferred to put it aside for the time being.
The red-haired imp turned his attention to his friend. "I told you to keep the door open."
The black-haired imp gave Lean an exasperated look.
"You know that damn door always slams because of the wind." The window in Noraa's room had always been broken. He doesn't remember
what exactly how, but he'll never forget the promise he made to himself never to drink what Lean offered again.
"...Okay." For Noraa, the awkward silence between them was the perfect cue for Lean to leave, but it seems her friend was more interested in sending a telepathic threat to the sinner.
Now the three of them were in a triangle of looks.Lean casting an accusing glance at the sinner, the sinner with his gaze fixed on
Noraa's seam, and finally Noraa trying to tell her idiot friend to leave or at least stop bothering the psychopath he'd brought home.
"I'm done." Finally he finished mending the sinner's shirt.
He quickly took it out of the imp's hands and left the room.
With the two imps alone, the redhead noticed his friend one step away from shouting at him.
"What's wrong?" Is he really going to pretend to be misunderstood?
"What's your fucking problem?" Lean still didn't seem to understand, exhausting Noraa's patience.
"There's not a damn minute you don't pick on the guy."
The red-haired imp seemed to be infected by his friend's irritation. "We can barely support ourselves and you bring one of those bastards home."
"He saved my life, I couldn't refuse to help him." Of course, the fear of being killed by his savior was a great motivator.
"He's still a damn sinner."
"So what if he's a sinner? He didn't do us any harm, and you have to admit that he treated us better than the others." Lean remained silent,
having no good argument to counter him.
"Lean, listen." Noraa held her friend's shoulders.
"I know you hate sinners, and I hate those shits as much as you do. But this guy saved our lives! Can you imagine what would have happened if he hadn't been here when Crazy Dogg's goon
broke in?"
Lean was gritting his teeth in frustration. He couldn't deny that the sinner had only been useful so far. Apart from barely eating and making noise, the son of a bitch was just existing, sometimes Lean forgot that there was a winged bitch sleeping on the sofa.
But Lean couldn't risk it, that piece of shit is hiding something, he can sense it.
That guy is a bad omen, and he's not going to let it blow up in his face.
And he had the perfect idea to put an end to it.
"We have to deal with Crazy Dogg." Noraa flinched at the words.
Noraa blinked, saying absolutely nothing for a few seconds.
"Honest question Lean. DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?" The redhead was almost deafened by the shout.
"Crazy Dogg is the most influential drug dealer in all of imp city, we could be killed just for thinking of the idea." That's why he's the right guy.
"I know it sounds crazy, man, but think about it, we have a fucking tank with legs in our house. Why not take advantage of it?" It's the perfect plan.
Noraa is always against the idea, but nothing her charm can't solve.
"If what you said about our 'friend' is true," just referring to the sinner as a friend burned the redhead's throat. "He could be the
most powerful thing in this fucking city!"
"It's not a good idea, man. You know what Crazy Dogg does to people who challenge him." Imp shudders at the thought.
The drug dealer was far from sophisticated, but one thing no one could deny was that he was an expert torturer.
For Satan, they say he uses a fucking bronze bull for the assholes who try to steal him, but that's far from the most dangerous thing in his possession.
"Apart from all the shit that could happen. And I'm telling you, it's sure to happen. I heard he got an angelic weapon."
'And since when does it make a difference if it's angelic or not? The imps don't live more than one life... Oh, he's worried about the sinner.'
It seems that Noraa has forgotten what those fucked-up sinners did to him.
The moment Lean opened his mouth, the door opened.
"I'll do it." Noraa was astonished by the sinner's quick agreement.
The two imps looked at him.
"Were you listening to every conversation?" Fucking weird, were you spying on them?
"The walls are thin, and you bitches are practically screaming."
...
Shit, he hates living in this hole.
"Please, D, you don't know what that madman is capable of." Noraa tried to reason with her protector.
'D? He's already given this one a nickname ... Fuck it! it's over now!' Lean will always have to solve the problems his friend causes.
"That's it 𝘋, I knew a guy like you have balls." The red-haired imp approached the sinner.
Big mistake.
When the imp was an arm's length away, the sinner grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and easily lifted the redhead up, coming face to face with him.
"I know what you're planning, you treacherous snake." The redhead almost pissed himself when he heard the sinner whisper.
'Holy shit, he heard everything. fuck, fuck, fuck. He's going to kill me!' The sinner was confused when he saw the redhead breathing heavily.
"Put him down, D." Noraa soon understood, her friend was having another panic attack.
"Lean's just scared, like I was." Slowly the broken-horned imp approached, steps cautious, hands raised and mind one hundred percent focused on solving the problem his friend had gotten himself into.
"Listen. We both don't have good experiences with sinners. It's been quite a challenge to trust someone else afterwards... Just please put him down." The sinner's gaze went straight to the
imp's broken horn.
He understood what he meant.
That must be why Adam has seen less than 20 imps in that city in all these millennia of work.
He slowly placed the redhead on the ground. The red-haired imp's legs couldn't support him, causing him to fall to his knees clutching
his chest tightly.
Noraa went to the aid of her friend, who was still struggling to breathe, tousling his hair, a habit her friend always did to comfort himself.
"Breathe Lean, I'm here, I'm here." The red-haired imp stared at his friend, holding Noraa's arms like a lifeline.
"Don't you ever touch him again, understand?" The imp's firm voice surprised the sinner.
Noraa wasn't going to deny it, he was afraid too, but he needed to defend the one who had stood by him in his most difficult
moments.
"Do you understand?"
He thought that the sinner would mock his friend's weakness, just as he had done to him in the alley, but no.
"Yes." That's all. No nicknames or offenses, just a word full of guilt.
He just wanted to scare the manipulative little shit, he didn't think his reaction would be so hard.
He knew he needed to apologize, but unfortunately that never worked for Adam.
"Call me when it's time to go." The sinner closed the door as he left.
Now that the two imps were alone, Noraa couldn't help remembering the day the two friends had met.
The day they promised never to remember.
_______
Meanwhile at the hotel. The king was going through a moment of great anguish.
The recent conflict between the exorcists has upset the fallen angel.
His mind is in a whirlwind of emotions, his hands keep shaking and he has no nails left to bite.
All this because he promised himself to stop creating rubber duckies.
Why would he give up his beloved hobby? You ask yourself.
Well. Your delay in being rescued may or may not have been caused by a fit of inspiration that was hard to ignore.
The guilt of almost losing his most precious person because of a silly hobby was torturing him.
'One more-NO. YOUR APPLEPIE ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF THIS OBSESSION' The King was willing to fight this battle against this addiction.
"But doing just one won't hurt." He didn't last 10 seconds.
Summoning his workbench next to his dorsel bed. The king began to carefully paint the immaculate duck, barely able to bear his excitement to see the result of his newest masterpiece.
Suddenly, a strong glow appeared behind him.
"IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK CHARCHAR." His gaze was similar to a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
He was so busy hiding what he was doing that he didn't notice that it wasn't his daughter.
But as soon as he recognized the intruder, he wished it was her.
"Sera?" In flesh, bone and feathers, her older sister was standing right in front of her.
'Was she smaller?' Probably to fit into the room, but apart from the reduction in height she was almost exactly the same as in his memories.
The last day he saw just before being expelled to this desolate place. His eyes, all of them, swollen from crying over the tragedies he had caused.
'Right, Lucy, all caution is needed at the moment. He had to be firm. She can't see how low you've fallen.
"Seeraa! It's been a long time."
...
'Shit, that came out too lively. Lucifer's social skills were completely rusty.
Even if they were perfect, nothing will take away Seraphin's deep silent grief.
"I see you've changed your look, I like the dress." The reunion, however longed for, was being uncomfortable, and her murderous stare contributed even more.
"Where's his body, Lúcifer?"
He would have responded faster if he hadn't been suffocated by her eyes.
After a few seconds, he manages to force out his answer. "What are you talking about?" With other question.
"You know very well who." Lucifer was confused for a while, until he remembered two days ago.
Oh... She's referring to their golden boy.
"I don't know who you're talking about, you can refresh my memory." His tone was sweet, but inside he was furious. The first conversation he's had with his sister in millennia, and all she
wants to know is about the psychopath he did her the favor of returning to dust.
'Even after everything, he's loved and I'm not.' And it gnawed at him, he couldn't help showing how insignificant his sister's 'perfect creation' was in his life.
Even if it wasn't true.
"Your ego won't let you remember the man whose life you destroyed?" This struck a nerve with the fallen angel.
"Do you still blame me for the failures of your creation?" It was Lucifer's turn to touch the wound.
"As if you hadn't stuck your rotten finger in everything that was his."
"Even after all this time, you treat Lilith and Eve like objects."
"Don't twist my words."
"Just like you did with mine?" The king clenched his fists at the memory.
"What you did with your second chance proves how right we were." Lucifer gritted his teeth.
Not even his pride could stop the overwhelming guilt over the shit he'd done.
He sometimes missed when he thought he was right about the apple, when he thought sinners were the only ones to blame for his fate.
But Eva pulled him out of this foolish fantasy.
"Where's his body, Lucifer!" Ah, yes. His sister is still here.
He'll like that. "Don't worry about him, I'm sure you'll find the remains in the sewers of the cannibal city." Sera froze.
Lucifer hates to admit it, but he took immense pleasure in seeing his sister suffer.
"Well. That's if the cannibals didn't use his bones-"
The king of hell couldn't even finish his sentence, his sister pressed him against the wall.
Even so, the shit-eating grin remained.
"Don't play with me, you bastard!" With a scarlet explosion, Seraphin was thrown across the room, hitting her back on the wall.
Standing up slowly, she watched her brother wipe the imaginary dust from his shoulders before summoning his walking stick.
"Sera, Sera, Sera. You know there are only three of you who can fuck me. And you're certainly not one of them."
...
She stared in disgust at the devil.
'What? Did I say something wrong?' Definitely yes.
Luckily for him, Sera returned to the subject.
"Do you really want Michael to come down here?" Lucifer's muscles stiffened.
"As if he was going to go down because of that psychopath." The sweat on his brow, his trembling fingers and palpable nervousness in his voice. They're scared.
She wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face, but she can't take revenge if she dies in a losing fight.
No. She needs to play well.
"Who wouldn't seek revenge on their best friend?" A half-truth must pass.
"Best friend?" The Devil's eyes became comically round.
Sera succeeded.
'It can't be. She's lying, she has to be.' Lucifer can't assimilate that Michael, who refused to take part in anything of creation, the guy who never even visited Eden and was completely against the
creation of humanity.
He was a friend of that piece of garbage.
"Now for the last time." Será stood facing him, all her eyes focused on the confused and apprehensive devil.
"Where is my son's body?" Lucifer didn't want to bow his head to heaven, not again.
But he refused. He couldn't protect his daughter from Michael's wrath.
"Follow me." With a snap of his fingers, a golden portal opened up next to the king.
Even with this smaller form, she still had to bend down to pass through the portal.
Finding herself in a cave, she increased the brightness of her haloes. The lighting cast a glow over the rough stone walls.
"Where are we?"
"In a cave hidden beneath the hotel." Lucifer
raised a small flame in his hand.
It took only a few steps to reach their destination. At the end of the cave were two tombstones.
One made of white marble, surrounded by vines and flowers.
And another is just a wooden cross.
Seraphiel's eyes widened as he read what was written on the first one.
Eva, beloved mother and wife.
"I thought that-"
"Was she alive?" The devil interrupted her wistfully.
Yes. Sera imagined Eva living with the first traitors. "How did that happen?"
"Suicide, multiple suicides"
'Why would she do that?' It didn't make sense, she had seen Eva enter their castle with her own eyes.
"Unlike what you might think (lying father and all), I hardly ever lie. Only if it's to annoy someone." Or to get out of an awkward situation.
"The truth is... Eva and I had nothing. She hated me, by the way." He wanted to keep up this lie for a few more millennia, keep up the idea that he was unwanted, but he can't do that, not in front of her
grave.
"Let's get down to business." Lucifer snapped his fingers, summoning a floating shovel that dug evenly into the first man's grave.
While Lucifer worked his magic, Seraphin couldn't stop thinking about one thing.
"Why did you bury him?"
"She would want him to rest next to her."
A hollow wooden noise echoed through the cave, dispelling his magic, Lucifer floated the coffin over to them.
When the coffin reached Lucifer's feet, he dropped it.
"Do you smell that?" Será was confused by the question, until she felt a strong smell penetrating her nostrils.
Was it soot?
Searching for the source of the nauseating odor, Sera shuddered when she saw a viscous black liquid leaking from the cheap coffin.
With a wave of Sera's hand, the coffin lid exploded into pieces, revealing a puddle of tar.
Her knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists.
"Was that supposed to be some kind of joke?" Lucifer was so stunned by the events that he didn't even see her punch him in the cheek.
The devil regained consciousness, and with his fist just a few centimeters away, he managed to conjure a barrier just in time to be saved from a black eye.
But that didn't stop the seraphin from trying. His punches were so strong that they shook the cave around him.
"Sera, stop!" She didn't hear him.
"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT."
"I swear I didn't do anything." She ignored him once again. He needed to get her out of there before she destroyed everything.
Snapping their fingers, a portal opened beneath them, taking them to front of the hotel.
The abrupt fall made her stop the senseless punches, it was Lucifer's chance to sort this out.
"Listen, I swear on my daughter's soul that it wasn't me." Sera stopped the punch a few centimeters away from the devil's face.
She considered her younger brother to be the most treacherous and despicable person ever, but even she knows that he would never put his
daughter in the middle of an argument.
"Five days." Lucifer didn't understand.
"I give you five days to find the corpse and the person responsible."Sera stood up, returning to her full size before conjuring a portal.
"If not, be prepared for a visit from Michael." With those last words, the Seraphin disappeared. Leaving the king on the floor with all his muscles stiff at the thought of Michael showing up.
He spent a good ten minutes mulling over what had just happened.
Someone has stolen the corpse of the first man, causing the problem of the millennium that can fuck up everyone's life.
"Holy fuck." Lucifer muttered. That bastard causes trouble even dead.
Taking the courage to stand up, the king snapped his fingers, wiping all the dirt from his clothes.
Walking sadly back to the hotel, the fallen angel began to think of solutions to find that piece of shit's body.
'I have to find the culprit alive.' He needs a scapegoat for Sera's wrath.
'Asking the Ar Goetias for help would be a good idea.' Yes, perhaps their predictions will help you sort this out.
The devil stopped at the door, his hand a few centimeters from the handle and his mind locked in a thought.
'Why didn't they steal Eva's corpse?' 'Come to think of it, how did they steal his corpse?' They would have had to dig dozens of meters to get there, not to mention that the coffin was still buried...
'He doesn't have the luxury of standing around, he needs to call Prince Stolas now. and needs to resolve this out as soon as possible.
And above all, don't let Charlie know.
With his focus set, the devil turned the knob, but as soon as he opened the door. A shrill, irritating and strangely harmonic laugh reached his ears.
In the main hall, his daughter and her friends watched the newscaster intently.
"What you're seeing is a recording from two days ago, taken directly from the voyeurism chat without consent of Tom." On the screen was a close-up of a sinful bear completely ruined on the
floor struggling to breathe.
And the sign read "The first bad boy is back? See first-hand the exorcist's first death after his resurrection."
"Thanks to the anonymous wanker, better known as Rasmus, our camera man. We got to see the most fuckable angel in heaven in action." Images of Adam brutalizing the sinful bear flashed
across the screen.
"Is he faster?" Vaggie's question was answered by the video.
Adam flew to his feet with Sinner in his clutches and returned to watch him fall in less than four seconds.
"Unfortunately the conversation between the angel and what appears to be his new fat whore was drowned out by the cameraman's moans."
Now Adam was laughing at the top of his lungs, his unmistakable laughter disturbing the very soul of the hotel's residents.
With the frame of Adam holding onto the imp, the recording ended.
"And now the question that won't go away. Will we have a rematch against the hotel bastards?" Lucifer broke out in a cold sweat at the
thought of his daughter at risk again.
"Or maybe a new King? Stay tuned to 666 news for more. And now cannibal cuisine -" The TV has been crushed by black tentacles.
Alastor was not happy about the return of the men who had humiliated him in front of the entire pride ring.
Vaggie wanted to complain to the radio demon, but she couldn't deny that if he didn't destroy it, she would.
"Dad?" The Devil in shock didn't even notice his daughter's presence.
'He had come back. That psychopath did the impossible, being the first divine being to come back from the dead.
For Lucifer, there is only one word that defines all the crazy shit that is going on.
"Fuck."
Notes:
I'm studying the English language now, I'll try to correct the translator's mistakes from now on.
I hope that you enjoyed.
If you have any criticism, please comment.
Chapter Text
The sinners of Imp City, like those of the neighboring town, usually just mind their own business.
Is someone being murdered? Fuck you, it's not your problem.
Are they torturing some poor bastard on the sidewalk? Cross to the other side and get on with your life.
Is someone about to be raped in an alley? At the very least they'll feel sad that they weren't invited.
At most, they'll be watching.
Seeing all this shit indirectly taught Noraa one of the most important rules of the pride ring. 'If it's not about you, don't care.
That said, Why the fuck is everyone looking at them like they're the most despicable piece of shit they've ever seen? He doesn't know, but he knows it would be easily avoided if his friend agreed to stay at home.
The plan was simple, he and D would fly to Crazy Dogg, the sinner would do what he had to do while the imp would pray that his protector would get out of the mess alive and intact, and when the sinner had finished the two of them would return home with what they had managed to take in their hands. But no. Lean wanted to come with them, even though he was just as useless in fights as he was and couldn't even hitch a ride on D without wheezing like an asthmatic in a desert marathon.
...
Okay, that was silly of her, but Noraa couldn't help but be pissed off after missing a peaceful sinner ride and earning herself a shitty hike at dawn in one of the most dangerous cities in all of hell.
"DIE, YOU FUCKING EXORCIST!" A scream came from around the corner. A sinner in worn-out clothes, looking like a scarecrow from a low-budget horror movie emerged with a knife, advancing towards them at full speed.
The imps were terrified.
The first time it happened.
D lazily withdrew his left hand from his jacket pocket, holding one of the stones he had collected during the most boring walk of his life. And with a simple throw he hit the sinner on the head, littering the sidewalk with the idiot's brains.
And that's eight sinners who died trying to kill them.
This is ample proof that Lean was right, there is something wrong with the son of a bitch. The idiot agreed to face Crazy Dogg even knowing the risks, and that's not even the tip of the iceberg, invulnerability, his appearance, and a legion of sinful assholes practically giving their lives trying to kill him made the redhead come to a conclusion that should have been obvious. What his friend had brought home was no ordinary sinner.
But what is it?
There are three ways to find out. Ask these idiots, Lean would rather eat his own ass than talk to any of these shits. The second option would be to search the internet, it would be good if they had a cell phone.
The third option..."Why is everyone trying to kill you?"
The sinner stared boredly at the imp three meters away from him. "It's hell. Everyone's always trying to kill everyone."
A perfectly valid argument that the redhead is happy to ignore. "And why are they calling you an exorcist?"
"Because I can make bitches like you SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Lean quickly felt that the space between them wasn't enough.
'Calm down, Lean, it'll be over soon.' He's going to piss on that pompous son of a bitch's corpse later today.
With the main talker duly silenced, the walk went on quietly. Gradually, some of the attackers came to their senses and dropped their weapons, standing still with their heads down, waiting patiently for the trio to pass, while others lost the instinct for self-preservation completely, trying to attack the trio with whatever they had at their disposal, from pistols, knives, stones and even their bare hands.
And yet they all suffered exactly the same fate as the scarecrow sinner, a hole in the head.
For the first time, the two imps walked carefree through the streets of Imp City. They both savored like wine the tranquility of walking without having to worry about a possible horrible end lurking around the corner. Lean in particular was ecstatic watching these sons of bitches debase themselves before mere imps, not even his hatred for the giant asshole erased the pleasure he felt.
It was uncomfortable for Noraa. Violence had never been his thing, and even though he hated these shits with all his heart, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of pity for the bastards.
"And we're here." D was almost blinded by the red neon sign shining so brightly that it seemed to be powered by the sun itself.
"H.F.T. Club?" Next to the sign was a picture of a female hellhound leaning on a pole and spreading her legs. It was obvious that it was a strip club, but the acronym was still a mystery to Adam.
Until Noraa explained. "Hot Furry Tail, the best nightclub in Imp City."
And Lean reminded him in a contemptuous tone. "Imps are forbidden."
Not just the imps, any hellborn is forbidden to set foot inside. Lean couldn't help but feel disgusted by the attitude of the owner, a hellhound who won't even let his own kind in, unless he has big breasts, a hot ass and wants to dance in front of the scum for crumbs.
"The Crazy Goat-" Adam begins, but is soon interrupted by the imp.
"Dogg." Noraa corrects unconsciously.
"Is the bitch in there?"
"Him and a bunch of bodyguards." To Lean's delight.
Noraa watched the sinner analyze the place, a two-story building with a hellhound supervising a line of sinners that went all the way to the corner.
Noraa approached the sinner cautiously. "Are you sure you can handle D?" he asked worriedly.
Lean rolled his eyes at his friend's passivity.
The redhead can't understand why Noraa is so worried about the sinner. Afraid of losing his protection? Maybe the deal is messing with his brain? or he simply doesn't want to lose the first sinner who doesn't totally despise them?
Lean was betting on the latter option. His friend had always had a strange soft spot for sinners.
'This will be the end of the line.' The Adam of seven years ago could have felt relieved at the prospect. But fate, screwed as it always is, chose the moment when everything was getting back on track to throw a spanner in the works, making Lucifer's dried cum appear at the fucking meeting.
Throwing this aside, Adam took a deep breath and looked up at the pentagram in the sphere above his head, the last time he would see the crimson sky he hated so much.
'It's not so ugly when you look closely.'
"Let's get it over with." The first step towards the end of his existence was taken.
The redhead was more than happy to agree. "You're the boss D ." Slipping his arm around his friend's shoulders, Lean tried to walk to the street opposite the club, but stopped when Noraa didn't move.
The redhead squeezed his shoulder "Noraa?"
Lean snapped his fingers in front of the static imp's face "Hell to Noraa." Still no answer.
Bored, the redhead slapped his friend hard on the back of the head. "Are you fucking deaf?"
Noraa looked startled at Lean, but he remained silent. Soon his vision went to D, and then Lean, D, Lean, D, Lean, D...
The redhead was confused by the eye ping pong and the inaudible whispers. The confusion turned to concern when the imp's eyes stopped on the scum.
"No" The redhead dreaded his next thought. 'He can't really be thinking of going along.'
To the redhead's misfortune, that's exactly what he did. With his head held high, the broken horn imp walked steadily towards the sinner, accompanied by the redhead who tried to convince him not to do it. But it was too late, the imps had already been spotted with what appeared to be the most hated sinner in hell.
As usual, the sinners soon recognized the newcomer, some fled, others were paralyzed and the minority armed themselves, just waiting for the opportunity to attack.
Adam didn't bother to look twice at the queue, passing by the side until he reached the main door, being barred by the hellhound before he even tried to enter.
"No cutting in line, retard." The black wolf in a cheap suit said without taking his eye off the clipboard.
Adam couldn't believe the mongrel's audacity.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" Adam asked, offended.
"No, should I?" The disinterested wolf returned.
"I'm the fucking Ada-Dickmaster." He'd almost forgotten that no one can know he's still alive. Even if there are dozens of witnesses seeing him walking around, it's hell, what's more there are liars who would say they've seen Jesus Christ himself for a few seconds of fame.
To the first man's misfortune, the wolf recognized him: "Oh, yes. I saw you on Voxtagram."
'Holy shit...' Adam hoped the wolf would stop there, which he was sure wouldn't happen.
"You're the guy who was cuckolded twice by a dwarf." The black wolf laughed, accompanied by the idiots in the queue, who tried to cover it up but failed miserably.
"Welcome to hell oh, cuckmaster ." The first man clenched his fists and faced the wolf, spreading his wings, his face turning into the scowl that Noraa feared so much.
The two-meter Hellhound wasn't intimidated by his opponent's height, puffing out his chest and looking him straight in the eye. "Now get to the end of the line."
Adam looked surprised at the security guard 'That mutt's got balls. Adam had to admit. Even though his head didn't even reach his chest, the hellhound kept his posture and didn't look away for a second, practically daring the first man to do anything.
"Fuck off." That's all the first man said before retracting his wings and starting to move slowly towards the end of the queue.
The hellhound secretly sighed with relief. He certainly wasn't going to win this fight, but he couldn't afford to lose the credibility of his service by letting any thugs in.
Everything is settled.
Until, first in line, a fat Cyclops in a tattered suit than his gets in the way.
"That's right, put some morale into this faggot-" The Cyclops sinner couldn't finish, as Adam's claws dug so deep into his sides that they punctured his lungs. Spreading his wings, the first man took off, the winds knocking down the imps who only had time to see the winged sinner disappear into the sky.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" Lean, who heard the whole conversation laughing inside the scum, was startled by the speed of the flying bitch.
"Where did that faggot go?" The red-haired man asked the only person who might have some idea of what that sicko was doing, receiving no reply from Noraa.
"Noraa?" The red-haired man looked at his friend, only now noticing that he was scanning the sky like a maniac, until his eyes stopped on a specific point.
The red-haired man grabbed his friend's shoulders and shook him frantically. "NORAA?"
The broken horn imp came back to reality, Noraa swallowed before answering.
"Look at the sky."
'And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?' The sinner had disappeared and his friend was talking like a fucking paranoid.
The hellhound followed the imp's words, because his species has enhanced vision, he soon saw what the imp had seen. And he couldn't have regretted doing it more.
The redhead felt a drop fall on his shoulder.
'Acid rain at a time like this?' After all the shit that's been going on, that would have been the last straw for the imp.
A metallic smell invaded his nostrils, the drops intensified, staining the floor and those present with warm liquid that the imp hoped with all his being was just a variation on the usual unhealthy liquid. But reality didn't let the redhead fool himself, for with a wet thud, a shapeless mass of flesh fell right at the imp's feet, followed by others that soiled everyone.
Before they could even process what was happening, a loud thunder-like noise almost burst their eardrums, causing their bodies to shudder and the glass in the club and all the windows in the street to burst.
For Lean, it seemed like the end of fucking hell, with only the king of locusts in person to seal the deal. After almost going deaf, checking that his friend was okay and wiping the shards from his shoulders, he was cursed with the worst/best sight of his life.
The queue of sinners had turned into a mass of weeping, desperate flesh.
It was supposed to be just a normal early morning's work in Duncan's life. Take care of the club entrance, beat up one or two drunks and go home to watch the latest Voxflix movie. Now his suit is bathed in blood, the club entrance looks like a mass grave and there's a piece of brain in his snout.
It's understandable that he turned around and vomited on his shoes.
But that's not the worst of it.
He saw it. He saw everything that psychopath did. How he dismembered the sinner in the sky, when he squeezed his torso like an orange, when he went down to the end of the street and came like a fucking bullet train, passing through the demons as if they were made of paper.
"Look at that." A sarcastic voice made the wolf wish he had never left the gluttony ring.
The perpetrator of the worst slaughter the hellhound had ever had the displeasure of seeing in person had practically blended in with the crimson city, so much blood was soaked into him. He was talking to the two imps as if nothing had happened.
"The bitches in line are gone." A sadistic laugh drowned out the cries of the dying, nudging the wolf with his elbow, he continued "There must have been a crack promotion somewhere."
Adam bowed, he leveled his eyes with the hellhound's, who looked away "Now we can go in" Gently holding the hellhound's chin, it didn't escape those golden orbs
"Right?"
"Of course, welcome sir." The metal door has never been opened so quickly and the wolf so cordially as now.
His body relaxed completely as the sinner walked calmly to the door with his hands in his jacket pockets.
'It's official, I'm quitting this shitty job.' The black-haired hellhound knew all his luck was spent at that very moment, and he definitely wasn't going to test it once again.
"Hey." He celebrated too soon.
The sinner turned around, taking quick steps towards the wolf who had already started praying for a miracle to save his ass.
His imagination took a turn for the worst when Sinner with an easy smile began to slowly place his hand on the hellhound's head. Would he have its eye smashed like the Cyclops sinner? Or would he rip its snout off? Anticipation was torturing the poor hellhound.
The sound of a stab echoed in Duncan's stressed mind.
After taking the piece of brain from the wolf, he smiled before speaking. "Don't let anyone in, understand?"
The wolf moved his head slowly in affirmation, fear had stiffened his muscles, making this simple gesture a sacrifice.
The sinner gave the wolf's shoulder a gentle squeeze before stroking his head and saying, "Good doggy."
The man, after causing the greatest terror the wolf had ever felt in his life, simply walked back to the door of the club, followed by two imps with the shock of what they had just witnessed still fixed on their faces.
Duncan was supposed to stop them, but his desire to get home in one piece spoke louder.
______
In the corridor.
Noraa looked confusedly at the sinner. "Why did you pet his head?"
Lean looked at Noraa as if he had grown a second head. "After all that, is that what you want to ask?
Lean pointed his finger at the first man. "Why did you do that?"
"Hey, weren't you the one who wanted to go after Crazy Goat-"
"Dogg"
"Whatever. How did you think we were going to get in?"
"I don't know,maybe killing the guard?"
"Nah, if I only killed the mongrel, the meatloaf made outside would overrun the place and Crazy Goat..." Noraa was about to correct him again, closing his mouth when he saw the sinner frowning at him.
"...The mess would alert him, making the piece of shit prepare or flee. The bitches agree that both options would suck.."
The first man laughed loudly. "And did you see the scared look on the mutt's face? It was hilarious!" Adam may have felt a twinge of respect for the mongrel for his courage, but he wasn't going to let some furry little twerp get away with it.
After an unusually long walk down a dimly lit corridor, the trio ran into the red velvet curtains that drowned out the EDM music and the strong smell of drugs used by the patrons.
In a good mood after the slaughter, Adam turns to the eager imps. "Do the bitches have any more stupid questions?"
The imp with the broken horn raised his hand, provoking an exasperated sigh from the exorcist.
"Speak femboy."
'Ok Noraa, this could be the last question of your life, make it count' Taking courage, the imp asked the question that has haunted his mind ever since he met the sinner.
"Why did you threaten to kiss my head when we first met?"
...
"I-I didn't do that."
"Yes, you did."
"I didn't."
"I remember perfectly well that you said you were going to throw me on the floor and kiss my head."
"I'm absolutely sure I said something else."
"And what did you say D ?" Lean cut in, much to Adam's dismay.
"Yeah - I said... Kick, yeah, I said I was going to kick your head in."
Lean's shit-eating grin said he knew the obvious, the asshole is trying to get away with it, even Noraa was holding back from laughing at the sinner's failed attempt, but Adam didn't give in, crossing his arms with a convinced expression.
"Just say you think he's cute, man." Lean doesn't understand why the asshole is so reluctant to admit it, it was standard for everyone in hell to find imps cute.
Not that it was a good thing that the scum thought they were cute, after all, some of the victims of these sickos were cute.
Adam laughed at the absurdity of what the redhead had said. He doesn't even fucking think those sparkly eyes and chubby cheeks are cute.
...
'Holy fuck.' Adam's eyes widened in understanding that soon turned to horror. This did not go unnoticed by the imps
AHEM
Lean cleared his throat loudly enough to get Adam's attention. "Do you have something to tell us D ?"
The first man tried to resist, maintaining the most convinced posture, while the imps made the cutest faces they could.
Adam could swear he saw stars coming out of those damn round eyes.
Sighing defeatedly, he gave in. "OK. Maybe, I repeat, MAYBE, I think you're cute. Happy?" Noraa starts to blush, much to Adam's chagrin.
"Please don't make this even stranger." Embarrassment at the admission made the first man pass through the curtains quickly. Noraa was about to do the same, but stopped as soon as he saw his friend standing there staring at the floor.
Noraa put his hands on Lean's shoulders "You okay, bro?"
Lean raised his head. "This isn't right, Noraa. We're not supposed to be here."
Noraa frowned. "But you're the one who came up with the idea of taking advantage of the 'tank with legs'."
Lean looked at the ground again. "But I didn't say anything about going into the lions' den."
Noraa knew there was more. "Speak the truth, Lean."
Lean clenched his fists, his face withered with shame. "I'm scared."
"Of dying?"
Lean laughed humorlessly. Afraid of dying? If he was afraid of dying, he wouldn't even leave the house. What haunts the imp's dreams is much worse than death. "That happens again."
The redhead didn't need to elaborate, Noraa knew exactly what he was talking about, those terrible memories weren't exclusive to the redhead. "We can't let that shit dictate our lives."
"There must be at least five sons of bitches like Francis in there." Just the mention of the spider sinner made Noraa shudder.
Lean swallowed before continuing. "He'll protect you, you have an agreement for that. But me? I highly doubt he'll do the same for me." Noraa wanted to refute this, but a part of him knew that Lean was right.
The redhead really wanted to get into the place he had dreamed of. But what if it happened again? Was it worse than it was that time?
'What if I'm alone this time?
The redhead's breathing slowed when he felt Noraa's soft arms take his head to his chest as he whispered words of comfort in his ear.
He hadn't even noticed that he was panting like fucking a dog.
"Let's not ruin it by remembering that piece of shit. Let's enjoy it, we deserve it." The broken-horned imp gently turned away from his friend.
"About protection. D won't let any of them near us." Noraa patted his friend on the shoulder.
"Just don't leave my side." The redhead's rational side wanted to protest, but it was completely overshadowed by the trust he felt for his friend. The two imps walked hand in hand through the curtains.
And they certainly weren't prepared for what they saw.
The psychedelic purple lighting, the distinctive smell of weed and other substances, the electronic music so loud it made their bodies vibrate, the sinners practically fucking on the dance floor, and the main thing, a stage that stretched to the middle of the dance floor where two female hellhounds were kissing wildly while touching each other.
"Is it paradise?" If not, it was as close as an imp could get. Noraa had always imagined what H.F.T. was like based on the rumors he had heard, and truth be told, what little he had heard was nothing compared to what was in front of him, the imp was holding back tears of emotion at finally being in the middle of something so wonderful.
Lean was already feeling suffocated. Don't get him wrong, he's just as happy and excited as his friend. But unlike him, he knows the dangers of a place exclusively for the scum.
"Who let the little shits in?!" As Lean had feared, a bull sinner approached, snorting with rage.
The red-haired man looked around in search, only to see his friend as frightened as he was. His desperation doubled, his fight and flight instincts locked into the worst option, paralysis. Fear made him close his eyes and wait for the worst, but seconds passed and nothing happened.
Lean slowly opened one of his eyes, seeing the Bull with his eyes wide open, mouth gaping, standing still and...
'Is that a hand coming out of his chest?
"One minute of your attention, bitches." The stares followed the voice that caused nightmares.
The exorcist pointed with his free hand at the two imps. "Do you see these gremlins here?" They didn't like the sinners' attention, some sinners looked disgusted, others licked their lips.
Adam lifted the sinful Bull in front of everyone, and to the horror (and pleasure) of the sinners, the first man joined his hand with the other, passing through the ribs avoiding the lungs and the heart with the precision of a surgeon until he joined his palms. And, not satisfied, he opened them slowly, tearing into the Bull's flesh, adding a touch of crimson to the sickly purple of the club floor, only stopping when his golden eyes became visible to the whole club.
Adam, satisfied with the shock on their faces, threw the body of the Bull onto the stage, causing the "dancers" to recoil in disgust.
"That's what awaits any piece of shit who tries to touch them."
A shot rang out through the club, one of the sinners shot the first man in the forehead, but the bullet ricocheted off another man's leg.
Adam looked in exasperation at the sinner wearing a pimp-like purple suit, his face shouting 'Really?' frightened the sinner even more who tried to run, only to gain a series of holes caused by the first man's remaining stones.
"Did anyone else have the bright idea of shooting me?" Adam took their silence as a no.
After waving his hands to wipe away some of the blood, the first man made his way to the bar, past the crowd on the dance floor, who made way without blinking, but didn't fail to glare at the two imps who followed him like ducklings following their mother.
Behind the counter, a white-haired hellhound wearing tiny panties and two purple heart stickers to cover her nipples nervously fiddled with her cell phone.
Hellhound quickly stowed her cell phone under the counter. "What can I get you, sir?" Tris would rather suck off a beggar than call some of these shits "sir", but the photo Dan sent from the sidewalk made her make an exception.
"Give the mini-bitches whatever they want." Adam leaned his right elbow on the counter and rested his smiling face on his fist.
"I want to know where Crazy Goat is."
"Dogg" The sinner's face turned sour and the imp who had corrected him muttered a weak apology.
All she had to do was hand over her tough son of a bitch boss? With great pleasure. "Follow the corridor near the bathroom and go downstairs, that's all I know."
He winked at her before thanking her, "Thanks baby."
"Have fun, girls." With a nonchalant nod, Adam headed down the corridor, leaving the two excited imps behind.
Tris looked closely at the man, letting out a sigh of relief when he disappeared down the corridor. Turning her attention to the imps, the hellhound held back her laughter when she saw them struggling to climb onto the benches. "Do you need any help?"
They both seemed offended by the question. Smiling at Lean, Noraa offered a small boost to the slender imp, who accepted, being thrown high enough to land on his feet on the counter. Lean in turn offered his hand to his friend, who quickly climbed up with the help.
The hellhound was not impressed by this acrobatic demonstration.
"So, what do you two want?"
The two replied in unison, "Belzejuice."
Without wasting any time, the bartender grabbed two glasses and poured the yellow liquid, marveling at the two imps who seemed hypnotized by the buzz coming from them.
"Okay, now get off the fucking counter."
______
Meanwhile, Adam was already wondering if he was going to end up in another ring, given the number of flights of stairs he had already passed. It had only been two, but fuck, it felt like an eternity. That's why he'd rather fly a thousand times.
'Finally! At the end of the third throw, a giant sinner similar to the one he had killed earlier stood in front of a reinforced metal door.
The bull snorted before growling, "Get the fuck out here."
Adam let out an amused laugh. "Oh, how I'm going to like that." The bull stiffened as he recognized the voice. He pulled a pistol from his suit jacket and fired relentlessly, Adam in turn covering his body with his wings. Soon the clicks of the discharged gun echoed down the corridor. The bull gulped as he saw the first unharmed man grinning from ear to ear between his wings.
...
The lizard sinner almost fell out of his chair with the shots from the other side, and he wasn't the only one, soon 8 sinners gathered in front of the metal door, pointing their guns and waiting for whoever was going to break in. Knocks were heard, much softer than they had expected. One of the demons cautiously went to the door hatch and opened it, meeting the bull's wide eyes.
"Holy shit, Jona!" The scaly sinner almost had a heart attack. Pulling himself together, the lizard asked, "What was that shooting about?"
"Guys, you won't believe it." Bull spoke in his usual thick voice, but a little nasally. "I killed the fucking leader of the exorcists!"
"Oh, tell another one, man." Jona had a reputation for lying for fun. The guy always tells some absurd shit that nobody takes seriously, and then tells the most elaborate lie in history just to laugh at us.
"I'm serious, you assholes, the guy showed up here all covered in blood and-" he turned around, but kept his head on the fucking hatch. "Holy shit, he's getting up!"
The lizard sneered, "Of course, then Jesus will show up and take us all to a casino." His companions began to laugh, lowering their weapons and returning to their posts. Even though he had helped to entertain the staff, this was certainly the worst of them all, and the horned man had wasted ammunition for it. He has to tell the boss.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" The sinners froze in place, quickly unlocking their weapons and pointing them at the door. Any idea that this was yet another well-crafted lie fell apart for the lizard after hearing the infamous exorcist's pained voice, and he quickly opened the locks and bolts. Don't get him wrong, it wasn't to help his friend in trouble, but to steal the kill.
After all, who wouldn't want to have the first man on the body count?
"I'm lucky to be on the doorstep. Thought the lizard, already wondering what he was going to do with the reputation of killing the first man.
"And the Oscar goes to" The color drained from the lizard's face. In place of the bull's robust body was the exorcist with his hand stuck in the bull's head, moving its mouth like a ventricle puppet.
The first man moved the bull's mouth in sync with his voice. "Adam!"
The lizard tried to raise his weapon, but was met with a fist from above that sunk his head into his torso.
The rest of the henchmen didn't lift a finger, too distracted by watching their friend's body spasm violently like a lizard's tail. They only came back to reality when they heard the bull's head fall off and Adam complained about how disgusting it was to stick his fingers into its nasal cavity.
One of the demons raised his AK: "SHOOT!" They didn't even hesitate to fire at the exorcist, who once again used his wings as a shield.
Desperation was taking hold of the men. They'd already used up almost all their bullets and hadn't broken even one of the exorcist's feathers. Shit, they'd already moved away from Pentashit City to avoid this kind of thing, and now a fucking ex-exorcist was blocking the only way out...
'Wait a minute' One of the demons signaled a cease fire. "He can't kill us for good, he's a demon now." The demons became excited.
The ex-exorcist's feathers bristled. "What did you call me?"
He barely reacted when the exorcist dug his claws into his arm and swung him like a rag doll against the steel portal, crushing his bones with every blow. When Adam finally dropped him to the ground, there was nothing left but a twisted body, which, to the horror of the others, is incredibly still alive. The remaining 8 didn't even raise their weapons when he approached in a rage.
They had already lost all hope.
It may be true that they don't need to fear being killed by him for good. But they should certainly fear the pain it can cause.
______
"And you took that beating from the owner of the wallet hahaha" The red-haired imp held his stomach with laughter, remembering when his friend had ventured into the business of pickpocketing. He frowned when he saw his friend ignoring him, who kept running his finger along the rim of the glass where he had sipped his sin.
That drink was everything it promised and more. Three shots did what not even ten bottles of cheap whisky could do. Lean felt as light as a feather, the sweetness just right, together with the gentle burning in the back of his throat, almost made the redhead relegate sex to the second rank of life's greatest pleasures.
'So how can Noraa still look like shit after tasting this wonder?
The red-haired man ran his hand gently over his best friend's back, slightly startling the one with the broken horn. "What's with that face, femboy?"
"It's just..." The imp shifted uncomfortably in his seat before finishing. "I'm worried about D."
The redhead looked incredulously at Noraa. "Are you kidding? The asshole killed the sons of bitches outside, flying past them like bugs on a windshield, and you're still worried?"
The redhead made a point of pointing at the sinners who hadn't taken their eyes off them since they arrived. "I'm trying to ignore the bastards in the back and enjoy it, like you said we deserved." Noraa followed his friend's finger, parting with a purple-skinned sinner wearing a tight top and tiny shorts. She gave a wide smile, almost proudly showing her two rows of black teeth, causing the two imps to shiver.
The red-haired man signaled to refill both of their glasses and continued. "So just relax your fat ass, your pet maniac will be fine." Lean took a sip, holding the drink in his mouth for a few seconds, feeling the buzz of the drink in his brain before swallowing.
Lean's desire to see that asshole lying on the ground hasn't gone away yet, but the redhead knows that his idea of a suicide mission went to shit the moment he took out a whole line of sinners in seconds. And after all the times he felt like a king that night, the redhead has to admit that his friend hit the nail on the head when he brought D home.
'Maybe I should make a deal with him too...' After all, that apartment is his too.
While the red-haired man went deeper into his thoughts, Noraa tried to get out of his.
'Lean is right. D has been through a lot of shit without getting a scratch.
What the fuck am I worrying about?' The imp laughed at the absurdity of it. He should be worrying about his own ass right now. Apart from being surrounded by depraved maniacs, he'd still have to take care of a drunk Lean later on, plus he'd have to worry about getting away and how he was going to carry the money.'
'ENOUGH!' This is the best moment Noraa's ever had, and he's not going to spoil it by worrying about every detail. Determined, the imp grabs the glass and drinks so fast he almost chokes, earning a nod of approval from the redhead. Noraa's excitement when he remembers that the man responsible for this moment happening is stuck at the back of the club fighting, while he's enjoying himself. The imp once again swipes the rim of his glass, returning to the same position as before, but for a different reason.
Even though it's scary as hell to have a maniac who enjoys disemboweling people sleeping on your sofa, Noraa is still happy to have accepted the deal. And with his and Lean's knowledge, and the sinner's strength, moments like this, where two mere imps have their space respected, will still happen again.
'And all thanks to him...' The imp began to reminisce nostalgically about the moments he had with the sinner, even though they had happened two days ago. Him appearing in the alley, the taunts to the bear, his smile (which now looks so tired), his face contorted with anger, the relaxed way he interacted with the imp, his laugh (which never came again). And, even though I've seen it several times, its invincibility.
He looked disappointed
...
Pieces of a puzzle the imp didn't even know existed began to fit together. Why D never asked for the information, why he always let the enemies attack first, why he was disappointed when he saw that they couldn't hurt him.
Why did he agreed to come here in the first place?
"For Satan..." The glass topples over and rolls slowly to the edge of the counter, being held by the redhead before falling.
The red-haired man was about to punch his friend in the face, but stopped when he saw him paralyzed with shock on his face. "Noraa?" Lean was startled when his friend suddenly turned his neck towards the D corridor he had gone down. Just as he was about to ask what the fuck was wrong with him, he stumbled off the counter, almost crashing to the floor. The black-haired imp ran at full speed, practically limping because of the fall, disappearing down the aisle.
"NORAA!" The redhead turned over his glass and got off the stool, which was a bad idea to make the two of them chase each other, but after steadying his hooves on the ground and slapping him hard across the face. The red-headed imp was ready to stop his friend from committing another one of his idiotic acts.
Even if he has no idea what it is this time.
The music faded into the background as he ran, practically disappearing as he descended the steps. The red-haired man sighed with relief when he saw his friend standing in front of the open steel door. Passing over the beheaded corpse of the sinner Taurus, he couldn't help but notice a strange resemblance he bore to the security guard killed by the asshole, but ignored it to make amends with his friend.
"What's with the marathon?" Noraa must be twice his weight and he ran like a fucking marathon runner. He's not even gasping for air.
In fact, he's not even breathing.
The redhead went to his friend's side, punching him in the shoulder. "Come in!" But he barely moved, his eyes still fixed straight ahead. It was just a bunch of corpses, what's so special about that?
Until the red-haired man noticed a sinner sitting against the wall. His legs had been severed at the knees. His left arm was in living flesh, with several open fractures, and his right arm had been removed at shoulder level. Its belly had been cut open, its intestines spilled out a few meters from it, leaving the cavity empty. Its single horn was broken off and shoved into its eye.
But it wasn't his physical state that stole the imps' attention. It was seeing him trying to balance an AK on the ground with his mouth, while trying to pull the trigger with the broken fingers of his remaining arm.
Lean once wanted to be like the sinners. Not to live his life doing shit, far from it, but to have his advantages. Height, strength, resurrection after death and, of course, endurance. This desire fell by the wayside when he noticed their chests going up and down that corridor, some faster than others. They were all alive, without exception.
It was terrifying how the suicidal man on the wall was the least injured.
'They deserve it. Lean said to himself. These scum would do worse to them. But, even in his hatred for sinners, he can't deny that this is-
"Cruel..." Noraa hit the nail on the head. This infernal vision reminded him of the moment he and D met. That sinful bear had marked him and his nightmares. Not just for what he planned to do, but how it ended.
He thought it was his physical condition, bad luck or even karma that he had survived that fall, but what happened to those unfortunates said otherwise.
BANG
Noraa froze when he heard a loud noise next to him. To his relief and surprise, it was Lean holding a red Desert Eagle with gold details, but what caught his attention was what he shot.
"What? He was going to kill himself." The red-haired man ignored his friend's incredulous look and approached the sinner he had blown his brains out over. Stowing his previous weapon in his pocket, which didn't even bulge. He grabbed the AK, cocked it awkwardly before firing the first shot. He staggered with the recoil, but hit his target. The head of another sinner who had the skin of his face ripped off.
He continued like this, taking the weapons from the corpses and shooting the next person he was going to rob in the head, each time making the previous weapon magically disappear into his pocket. Until they all died in his hands.
Noraa knew why he was doing it, but he didn't object for fear of him stopping. As well as being more uncomfortable with herself, for not having the courage to do what not even the imp who hates sinners the most has done.
"That's it. Now can you tell me what the fuck you were thinking to run like crazy here?" The broken-horned imp opened his mouth, but his voice dropped before any words came out. What was he supposed to say? 'I came to try and stop the psychopath who carried out this massacre from killing himself' Noraa wasn't even sure if his conclusion in the bar was true.
"I just wanted to get out of there. The looks on those guys' faces were getting on my nerves." Technically it's not a lie.
Lean gave him a suspicious look for a few seconds before shrugging. "Do they make coke in one of these rooms?" The red-haired man pointed to the corridor, which was quite small, the one at the entrance being twice as long. Peeling wallpaper, dirty floors, old bloodstains in some unusual places. Everything was up to the standard of pride establishments, and the bodies seemed to help cement this view.
But there was one thing out of the ordinary. Of the seven doors in the corridor, six were stained, splintered and damaged by time and lack of care. The door at the end, on the other hand, was almost flawless, being white with some black details on the sides and a gray plaque written on it
Administration
Please knock before entering.
An inviting sign, even if it brought the opposite feeling. The jobs the chubby imp got were through the middleman the Dickmaster had kindly sent out of the window. He was fine with that, what the imp heard about Crazy Dogg made him thank Satan that he had never crossed that sadist's path.
And now he was just a door away...
'D may not have gotten in yet' His eyes refute him, focusing directly on the fresh bloodstain filled with fingerprints on the doorknob.
'That doesn't mean anything' as if on cue, the shrill voice of his protector came like a message from the universe.
And he was laughing in the poor imp's face for hoping to get out of there without any problems. There's nowhere else to run, he has to face his fear and walk through that door.
...
"But it can't hurt to look in the other rooms." And so our brave man postponed the inevitable.
Noraa walked slowly to the first door on the left, careful not to trip over any of the bodies. Inside there was nothing the imp had expected. Wasn't it supposed to be a laboratory or at least a warehouse with a few kilos of the drugs he used to deliver? Instead, it was just a hotel-like room, a king-size bed with a messy silk sheet, a mirror that almost covered the entire ceiling.
'Okay, maybe it's a room that the boss brings some girls to. The other one will be different.' And the imp was completely wrong. The second room was an exact copy of the first, the second too, the same with the third.
The fourth, on the other hand, had a tripod and a camera facing the bed.
'Why was there a room there? For VIP clients perhaps?' The imp put his doubts aside when he noticed his friend in the background, next to the bed, gnashing his teeth, which he could hear even from a distance. Lean had his back to him.
"Lean? Are you okay, bro?" It was obvious he wasn't. The redhead was almost breathing fire out of his nostrils, but what could make him so furious?
Next to the crumpled sheet, a pair of red lace thongs with ruffles stained with something he didn't want to think about.
'Okay. That's disgusting, but there's nothing to be mad about. It was something else that was bothering the redhead, the imp racked his brains to figure it out, until he noticed how small the garment was.
Too small for an adult imp.
_______
A few minutes earlier.
In his office, a yellow-furred wolf was typing lazily on his cell phone. His neutral face wrinkled at the message he had received.
It seems that not even his high position has saved him from the daily irritations of the crazies in the neighboring town.
*Knock* *Knock*
A wave of satisfaction ran through the wolf's body. 'Finally one of the idiots has respected the sign! He almost promised himself that he would give the lucky man a raise, almost being the operative word, but a glass of whisky would do as a treat.
The wolf got up from his chair, taking care not to move the table and knock over the almost 20cm pile of paperwork with his bulky body. Sometimes he hated being two and a half meters tall and almost a walking closet, even if it helped him a lot when he arrived at the pride.
After moving away from his desk, the wolf went to his small drinks cabinet, picked out his most expensive bottle, along with two glasses, resting them on the coffee table in his office, which was surrounded by two black leather sofas, and sat down on one of them.
"Come in." The doorknob turned slowly, while the wolf was already wearing his "business face".
A metallic smell settled in his living room, accompanied by the tallest man he had ever seen in his life, red and gold being the only colors that drew his image.
The crimson of his blood-soaked body and the gold of his teeth that form a smile that almost reaches his ears.
"Adam..." The wolf gives a strange smile and the ex-exorcist's grin gets unbelievably wider.
'Finally one of these fleas knows who I am. Going over to the table and filling one of the glasses, the first man falls hard onto the sofa and rests his leg on top of the other on the coffee table.
"Sup." Adam's voice drew the wolf's attention back to the situation.
"First of all, I have to say. I'm a big fan of your work." The wolf extended his hand to the ex-exorcist, receiving a look of contempt in return. If the wolf was bothered by this, he didn't show it, taking his ignored hand to the bottle and pouring himself a drink.
"What brings you to my humble establishment?" Adam scratched his goatee, pretending to think about the question.
"Hm... let me think... Destroying this dump... Steal everything you've got..." Looking up, he wondered what else he had come here for.
"Oh, yes. And kick your ass." Adam drank the entire contents of his glass and threw it back, resting his arms on the back of the sofa.
The wolf wasn't afraid of his words. He just let out an exasperated sigh.
"That shit again?" The wolf whispered.
"Tell you what. You give me everything your hairy ass has. Good deal, don't you think?" The wolf seemed more annoyed than relieved by the statement. The dealer stood up. Going over to his desk, he took one of the remaining cigarettes from the pack and put it in his mouth. Searching for the lighter in his pocket, the wolf had a little trouble lighting up when he noticed the ex-exorcist's watchful eye. When he finally succeeded, he took a long drag before replying.
"Not at all." Adam was sincerely surprised by the question. And the wolf continued.
"Ever since I arrived in this ring, I've been working my ass off to build this shit. And every day I still fight to keep what little status I have every fucking day." The wolf made his way to his chair, tucking his stomach in to pass without knocking over the pile, relaxing his posture when he finally reached it. Ruining the view that the whole speech had given the first man.
"So, are you going to try your luck?" The wolf snorted, laughing at the question.
"Of course not. You've just killed 8 armed men, it would be crazy to even try." The goons are still alive, but Adam didn't bother to warn them. Reaching out for the bottle on the table, Adam tapped the index finger of his free hand on his chin, analyzing what the wolf wanted to say, but gave up, preferring to drink.
"I still don't understand what the fuck you want." The dealer tilted his head, a look of surprise and slight disappointment that almost made Adam growl.
"I don't want to fuck around trying to build it all up again." That sentence turned on a light bulb in Adam's mind.
"Really?" The wolf nodded reassuringly. Causing Adam even more confusion. 'would the son of a bitch rather die?
"Don't think too hard, man." The wolf said as he saw the first man rack his brains for understanding. "Just take it as an act of mercy."
The wolf is right, there's no point in thinking too much about it. It's hell, anyone unlucky enough to be born here would think about killing themselves. Fuck, he came here for that very purpose, it would be fucking hypocritical of him to question it.
"Any preferences?" The wolf quickly understood the meaning of the question. Slowly running his index finger down his neck, he replied.
"From ear to ear." The first man shrugged. Rising from his chair, Adam smashed the bottle on the desk and pushed it closer to the wolf, standing right in front of him, who didn't bother to get up.
Scraping the sharp edge of the glass on the dealer's neck, a question arose in his mind.
"Why give it away and not... I don't know, blowing your head off?" The wolf didn't take long to answer.
"Because it hurts less." The first man let out a short laugh.
"And how do you know?" Pushing back his chair, he stood up, the glass bottle causing a small cut on his neck. The dealer replied with a grim smile.
"Do you really want to know?" Adam looked at him coldly before answering.
"No, fuck it." He was getting tired of this weird shit. Pushing the wolf's jaw gently with the bottle, the former prepared to kill the furry with a single blow.
"Get out of the way, D." The familiar voice of the gremlins made the first man snort in annoyance. At the door, Noraa and Lean looked angrily at the wolf.
"I only gave an order-"
"Shut the fuck up" Adam felt like throttling the mini bitch for cutting him off.
Lean didn't care about the asshole's furious look, he was too pissed off to care about anything. Taking heavy steps, the imp kicked the coffee table away as he approached the two haughty men. Pulling the Desert Eagle out of his pocket.
"Are they your pets?" asks the wolf mockingly. I was taken aback when the imp shot him in the knee, causing him to fall to the ground groaning in pain. The wolf tried to get up using his elbows, only to be graced with the sight of the barrel of the gun next to an imp furious.
"Listen here, motherfucker, because I'm only going to ask you once." O imp said, clenching his jaw so hard you could hear him clicking.
"Where are the children?"
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