There are advantages to dying young and immoral.

I went to Hell after an accidental drug overdose -first time, I was stupid- and I ended up on the Repo Squad.

What do I do? When you promise the Red Guy something, you better be ready to shell out, because if you don't, I show up, ha ha ha ha.

I walked down the hallway of the L.A. apartment, Venom flexing in the back of my head.

Hey babydoll. Hey Gina chick.

Not right now.

Hell, bitch, you wait until I take over tonight. It's gonna be huge.

Shut up.

You just wait. You're mine.

The door's unlocked, so I just let myself in. "You're Late! We started without you!" Katharine calls. I don't answer. I get to the back room, where a man in a nice suit is strapped to the chair. "Get out. All of you. I'm in a mood," I order. Everybody clears out, but Waldo gives a cough that sounds suspiciously like "PMS!" when he passes me.

Fuck him.

When Waldo shuts the door behind him, I walk over to the man and take the tape off his mouth.

"Oh God! Please let me go! I didn't do it! I know people, you can get money, pretty girl like you can get contracts, get rich, let me-"

"Shut. The Fuck. Up. You think I care? Don't make deals you can't keep," Venom's hissing in the back of my brain, complimenting me and begging to be let out.

No. Not yet.

"That was years ago! I forgot about that!"

I smile at him and start digging through the bag on the floor. "We sure didn't."

"No! You can't do this! Please!"

I hate it. I hate begging, and it's pissing me off, and I feel Venom surging forth, until the barrier breaks. It hurts a bit, feels like I banged my head, then this absolutely beautiful feeling happens. Total Evil Black Venom. Better than love, higher than cocaine, more free than sex.

"Ooh, don't hurt me, please, I've got kids, wah wah wah. Well, you should have thought of that before you got this. You make me SICK to my fucking STOMACH. You and your kind."

I reach deep into the bag and find it. Bowie Knife special's up tonight.

"We all deserve to die. Even you, Missus Lovett, even I," I recite, Venom easing up a bit. The man starts to cry, and Venom is back, full force black hurricane.

And it rocks.

I start with a simple cut down the side of the face. Then a matching one on the other side. Hopefully that'll stop the tears. The damn things will flow into the cuts and cause pain.

I stab the Bowie knife into his shoulder, and go back to the bag, and get the needle.

A human soul is located just under the sternum. I know what I'm doing, I've been doing this since I was seventeen, and I'm twenty-five now. The man starts to shake, and his eyes go dark.

But he's still there.

"Please." He whispers.

Venom's going away, and I'm feeling shaky.

I take out the Bowie knife and gut him, stomach to chin.

Venom slowly retreats, until I'm left with the slimy residue. I start shaking, and my nose starts running. After such a burst of energy, I'm going through withdrawal.

Tears start running down my face, and I feel exhausted, my head hurts, I just want to drink a gallon of orange juice and sleep for a week.

I hear the door creak open, and then the soft patter of feet.

"Hey, kid," I respond, trying to seem okay, even with my eyeliner running down my face and the floor covered in blood. Artie purrs, standing up to his full height. "I had an angry, but I'm somewhat okay now," looking up at him.

Artie younger than I am, half-demon too (his mum's name is Rosemary, ironic, huh?) with long black hair, tan skin, purple eyes, and bat wings. Standing upright, he's like, seven feet tall or something stupid like that, but usually he just lopes along on all fours.

He also can't talk, vocal chords got messed up.

"What'd they do to you this time, Artie?" I ask softly.

Artie shows me his feet. Usually, because of his appearance Artie gets tortured worse or more than most of us.

The ends of Artie's toes bleed black. They tore out his toenails.

"Sweet Satan, Artie!"

Artie hiccups, and looks down. "Aww. You alright?"

Head shake.

I pull Artie into a hug and let him cry on me, ignoring my pounding headache and exhaustion.

"Wow. Somebody made a mess," Waldo comments, stepping through the door.

"Yeah, you really outdid yourself this time, Gina!" Katharine picks her way around.

Taz and Ditto stare in from the doorway.

"Twins. Get your asses in here. You're cleaning up," Waldo orders.

"Que?" Taz shouts.

"Oh hell no. Gina made mess, Gina clean up," Ditto says, folding his arms.

I love those two. Best eleven year olds since Hit Girl.

"You two are on the squad, and you haven't done anything but jabber in Spanglish since we got here. Get the bleach, you'll need it," Katharine explains.

"Fuck you!" Taz spits, accompanied by a middle finger from her brother.

"Fuck you back. Get moving."

The Twinions bitch and curse all the way to the supply closet.

"How you doing?" Katharine asks me. I'm still holding onto a crying Artie, running on empty after I let the stupid Venom take over my system.

"Bad moment?"

"Yeah." I say. "Ah," Katharine sighs. Katharine's the closest thing I have to a female best friend. We're not BFF's or anything-Bee Eff Eff F YOU!-but Katharine keeps me sane. She's got curly brown hair, and split front teeth, and HUGE boobs. And I'm straight, which says something about them right there.

Waldo looks over at us "How's the dragon lady tonight?"

"That's Racist, Waldo."

"You're asian, and you've got that dragon tattoo, right? Your argument is invalid."

"I'm Vietnamese. Don't slam my tattoo."

My tattoo is indeed, a dragon, it's red and orange and green, starts on the left side of my neck and ends on my left ankle. Taz says it makes me look like a stripper. A high end stripper who carries weapons, but a stripper nonetheless.

Artie finally stops crying, and I feel bad that I wasn't there for him, and I know I'm like a mum- an extremely unstable mum, but more there than his own- to him and the twins. I've always wanted kids, so bad that it hurts sometimes whenever I see some pregnant skank smoking up somewhere, because that kid should be mine, I should be able to feel the kicks and turns and I'd try to get rid of the Venom, I'd go to counseling and shit.

Waldo hauls me up off the floor, the twins come back, grumbling in Spanish-they're actually Mexican- ready to rid the floor of blood and guts using industrial amounts of blood and Mr. Clean.

Artie shows me his injury book. "So, was this better or worse than the exorcism in Mexico?" I ask.

Thumbs up.

"How much better?"

Two thumbs up.

"I'm getting Bleesters," Ditto calls.

"Nobody cares."

As soon as all the blood's gone, and the body's been, um, taken care of, we all head to where all evil congregates. Not hell. IHop.

"Gorillaz are releasing a new CD!" Taz shouts over a mountain of pancakes. "How the hell can you eat so much?" Katharine asks. Taz shrugs. Taz and Ditto are almost identical. The only differences between them is Ditto is left handed, and gender. They even dress the same.

Both are fanatical Gorillaz people. They say quotes from the band all the damn time, both have memorized Rise of the Ogre, and all the songs are committed to memory.

"Yeah?" Waldo asks.

"Yeah. But I think their guitareest died."

"That was Noodle, right? That's a shame. She was sexy."

Ditto nods in agreement. This would've been similar to every other day that I've had with these people, except that the next day, we went to Laos and fucked up really bad.