Disclaimer: Rules governing protection of intellectual property demand that I declare that, as a creator of the aptly named fanfiction I am writing this story from the position of a fan enjoying the world and characters created by someone else and not, in fact, from that of the owner of said rights. Who, the logic dictates, would probably have better ways of exercising the rights in question than producing stories such as the one below.
Summary: There are some career paths where, after reaching certain level there just aren't many ways to develop further. Or so Onyx thought.
Career Opportunity
Mitch Watson looked up from the piece of paper where he had jotted down the address. In a way, it was weird, the way he felt apprehensive of going into the club just because it was still closed. But somehow places like this felt strangely unnatural when devoid of a crowd. And besides, the whole situation was on a strange side too.
When an e-mail came through the website asking him to come to the Lux on a business matter, he didn't think much of it at first. The Church of the Dark Prince drew the attention of a wide array of people and a nightclub was as good a place as any to meet with them. In fact, the last business deal, the one with a small publisher willing to discuss a bulk order of Satanist writings, took place in a club not dissimilar to this one, if a bit less exclusive. It was only upon his arrival that he realised the meeting was set too early for the place to be open to public. Which was when he started having second thoughts.
Hesitantly, he tried the door and didn't know whether he should be glad or unnerved to find it unlocked. He stepped inside, trying to convince himself that with what his job looked like, he shouldn't be feeling this freaked out from such simple things.
"You're late," he heard a female voice to his side, where he could swear there was nobody just a second ago. He turned slowly to see a dark-skinned woman, dressed in leather, observing him in a way predators usually regard their prey. "Follow me. The boss is waiting for you."
Feeling he didn't really have much choice about it, he did follow, and found himself led to a booth, where he could see someone sitting. It took until they reached their destination before the poor lighting allowed him to take a better look at the man's features.
With some surprise, he discovered he was now face to face with one of the detectives that were investigating Rose's death. The one who crashed the ceremony, claiming to be- Wait a minute...
"Thank you, Maze. Get us something to drink would you?" the man spoke in an almost dismissive tone. Then he turned to look at him. "Ah, Onyx, was it? Have a seat, we've got some business to discuss."
"We do?" Mitch heard himself asking without really making a conscious decision to speak.
"Of course we do," the man answered with a dazzling smile. "Why else would I have asked you to come? You do remember me, don't you? Lucifer Morningstar?"
As if he could forget someone crashing a black mass claiming to be Lucifer. Mitch cleared his throat. "Yeah, I do. But I thought Rose's case was closed."
"Oh, it is, don't worry. But it brought something to my attention. I couldn't help but notice that actions of Satanists tend to reflect on my reputation. I saw those sheep that came to your little ceremony. And it occurs to me it would be infinitely better if there was someone level-headed leading them when they seek out a cult to join."
"What does it have to do with me?'
"Slow on the uptake, are you? You seemed like a reasonably down-to-earth chap, for all the theatrics involved, and you did claim to like my philosophy which at the very least implies you are familiar with it. Seems like you're as good person as any for the task, with job experience in your favour."
"I already told you this wasn't what I want to do in the long run."
"It's as good career as any, if you ask me. And gives you more creative freedom than most. Though I am prepared to put a monthly stipend on the table if you promise to cut back on the goat theme."
The lady from before appeared again, placing two tumblers of scotch on the table. Mitch looked at his drink for a second before rising his eyes to the man.
"You can't be serious."
"Why not? I happen to believe in paying people working for me. Which, incidentally, is more than anyone can say about Daddy dearest. Speaking of - if you like those black masses of yours, have fun with them, I would hate to discourage anything that might lead to a kinky after party, but you don't have to go to any trouble on my account."
"Right." He took a small sip considering his options. It wasn't like he had any promising career paths currently waiting for him and he had just been promised extra money for basically doing what he was doing already, minus some effort. "Suppose I agree..."
Lucifer scribbled a number on a piece of paper and pushed it towards him, his smile somehow becoming brighter.
"Don't tell me you are still having doubts? You did say you liked what you were doing. I'm sure you'd want to have it a bit easier financially."
"I would," this time Mitch was sure the words left his mouth unbidden.
"There you have it," the man grinned with satisfaction. "I'm sure this will be a beginning of a great career experience for you. Oh, and now that you know how to contact me, do drop me a line if you have a bad feeling about someone. It would save us both an unnecessary headache later."
Mitch blinked, staring at the man, trying to decide whether he was just, in a very roundabout way, roped into being a police informant when it came to Satanism or hired by the Devil himself to run his church in LA. Then, this being LA after all, he wondered which would actually be stranger.
Lucifer stood up.
"Glad you agree," he said in response to the absolute silence. "I need to be running but you can take your time finishing your drink. We'll be opening in half an hour so it needs to last you till then. Oh, and one more thing."
He took something out of his pocket and threw it to Mitch, who caught it instinctively, before inspecting the item that suspiciously resembled car keys. He looked at Lucifer in askance.
"You did state your price for continued work," the man stated as if explaining the most obvious thing in the world. "It's parked outside the club. Though, just between the two of us, I much prefer Corvettes myself."
A moment later he was gone, leaving the current high priest of the Church of the Dark Prince wondering if, despite still holding the keys decorated with a winged logo, he didn't just imagine the exchange that took place.
THE END
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