Distaste etches his features the moment the cool Colorado air touches his skin. He steams, ever so slightly as he stands amidst the wintery scene. He's on Main Street in South Park. Damien gazes around, not much has changed in the small town. He wanders the town, nothing yet piquing interest. Not that he thought anything would, to be honest, he detests that his father sent him above. He is to learn and judge. However, it's the middle of the week, and typically humans have their religious bull shit on Sunday.
With nothing to do, Damien wanders to the house his father gifted him. It is not fancy or large, it has an upstairs with two bed rooms, a bathroom, and then the downstairs contains a kitchen and living room. It is sparsely furnished, not that he requires much anyway. Upon the desk in his room, he finds a file with his name printed clearly.
His red eyes bore over the words, his mouth setting into a deeper frown than before as he reads he is to attend high school, he is a transfer student, or so the paperwork will lead the reader to believe.
Time works differently on Earth than it does in Hell, his eyes flick to the onyx watch on his wrist, it reads 3:30pm. He tosses the file back on the desk before teleporting to Kenny McCormick's house, out of sight, but into the blond's room.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" exclaims the blond from his laying position in his bed, his hand now out of his pants.
Kenny's hair is messy, strewn across his forehead by sweat and spilling onto the flat pillow beneath him.
"Fuck me asshole! Knock first!"
Damien regards the flustered blond in silence for a beat before replying, "If I had known I would be interrupting, I wouldn't have came at all."
Kenny grumbled unintelligibly while adjusting himself atop his pants before sitting up and focusing on Damien.
"Does this mean what I think it does?"
"It does. A terrible thing."
Kenny rolled his eyes, "Sooooo terrible dude. You get to decide if we're ready to all be violently murdered."
Damien's arms folded across his broad chest as he regarded the blond coldly, "I have to attend school and witness "holy" activities. It's imbecilic."
"Ouch."
Damien leaned back into the wall. "Such is existence. I begin at your school, in your grade tomorrow."
"Know what classes you got yet?"
"No. The papers I have say to go to the office."
"You might have to take a placement test," Kenny snickered.
"My credentials should afford me the top classes."
"What?!"
"We don't all squander our immortality," Damien retorted.
"Oh well fuck me, Mr. Prince of Hell, I don't have much fucking time to devote to studying," Kenny growled, glaring at the black haired teen.
"But you do, instead you lament to me about how terrible it is to die all the time," Damien replied, quickly growing bored and tired of McCormick's whining.
"Because it's fucking bullshit!"
"I'm not saying I disagree, but you have time."
Kenny stared at him a while, Damien returned the stare with disinterest.
"So what are you here for? As in, my room."
"Why not?"
"God you're insufferable."
Damien teleports away, bored of McCormick, he is back in his house. He had hoped, vainly, that McCormick could offer him something for his time. But it seemed that he was to succumb to boredom instead. Damien gazed at the gray carpeting of his room before exiting and going down the stairs at a half-trot. He exited his house and made his way back into town. He chose a bar and entered, staying in a corner, observing all who entered, exited, and so forth. He saw many drunks as the day turned to night. They all seemed like idiots. Armageddon or no, they weren't ready. The people were not fighters, they could hardly grasp the life before them.
He scoffed and vacated his seat, exiting into the even colder air of night. As he trudged past an electronics store, suddenly all the TVs in the windows shifted to focus upon a blond wearing a curious metallic helmet. He spoke of how he had control of all the televisions and radios, it would be Chaos for the South Park police were powerless to stop him. The screen shifted again, this time, though it was something on a loop, at first it appeared to be noise, but as he listened intently, he recognized it. It was disguised as white noise but it was a series of suggestions, heinous suggestions, but the weak minded would have a hard time ignoring them if they continued long enough.
Damien stared at the TVs, wondering just who that blond had been.
The school day began with utmost irritation for Damien. From the second he walked in, people stared and whispered. A glare quickly made them avert their gaze, but he was aware of the whispers regardless of his glares.
He found the office he needed and waited impatiently for the secretary to finish on the phone. Finally, he passed her the file and she set about typing on her computer. Eventually, he was given a class schedule, locker number, and directions to his first class, which wound up being second period as he had missed first. The day began with grueling introductions, wherein each he stated his name and took the only available seat, regardless of where it sat. He listened but only fractionally, instead, covertly studying his classmates.
He was in Advanced and Advanced Placement classes for all. He was among the smartest of South Park. These included Kyle Broflovski, Wendy Testaburger, Bebe Stevens, Butters Stotch, Token Black, and Craig Tucker(in one literature class). They were intelligent, true, but were they prepared for Armageddon?
A question Damien was in the midst of pondering wherein he was called upon.
"Damien, what do you think?"
His attention snapped to the teacher and he gave a thorough response to her question, which seemed to surprise her as she must have thought he hadn't been listening.
Lunch time presented itself and without true need of sustenance, though he could partake for show or taste, Damien moved through the throng of people to the cafeteria. He observed from far enough away that he wouldn't be noticed but he saw much.
A twitching teen had a large spasm and his hand knocked the tray of another blond, which the contents splattered on to the jacket, shirt, and pants of a much larger brown haired boy. The second blond tried to apologize but he was shoved hard, sending the blond skidding away on his ass. He didn't move as the larger boy stomped over to him and raised a fist to clock him. The twitching teen, whose fault it was, averted his eyes, as were all those who were in the general vicinity. Even the blond in the light blue jacket seemed resigned to his fate.
He watched the scene continue to unfold.
The blond rejoined his friends after the larger boy walked away. The blond had no lunch now, but no one offered him anything. They continued on, laughing and talking, as if one of their friends hadn't just received a hefty fist to the face.
His demonic senses were dulled, but he knew the posture the blond was exhibiting. He wasn't as defeated and meek as he had seemed a moment ago, on the ground. He was... vengeful. His friends didn't seem to notice a change though, as Damien walked to a line, choosing the one nearest their table, he caught snippets of conversation.
"Clyde is such an asshole."
"I-it was m-my own fault."
"Gah! Dude! No it wasn't!"
"It's okay Tweek, I s-should have been m-more mindful of my tray when I was t-trying to help you."\
"Aw man!"
"Stan! Why didn't you stop Clyde?"
"Butters is fine, right Butters?"
"Right-o!"
"See Wendy? Butters is used to this."
He heard a scoff and then was too far to hear more.
So..., the one on the ground had been Butters Stotch? And the large one would have been Clyde. Interesting. Butters' tone belied his body language, however it appeared his "friends" didn't notice. Strange.
He took a solitary table with his tray of unappealing food, gazing across the large room, at Butters.
It almost looked as though the blond had seen him staring, but Damien was sure that couldn't have been, how would the blond know when they were so far apart?
He ate and disposed of his tray, scrutinizing Butters, something seemed familiar about him. He was unsure though, in the remainder of his classes, he continued to observe Butters. When he gave answers, as he interacted with his friends, at his locker as he was shoved into the metal. He saw the face of vengeance for a brief instant, but then it was gone and replaced by a cheery smile. Damien's interest was piqued. He needed to know more about one Butters Stotch.