AN: Here's a another OC story cause I can't fucking help myself… Also, Devils Dragons and Other Nonsense is on indefinite hiatus because ideas for that dried up like an incel's dating prospects.
Thanks to Creno K for Beta-ing this chapter!
CHAPTER I – Away Down South…
Fun Fact of the Day: 10 of the 25 Worst Counties to Live In are in Kentucky.
A warm breeze blew on his face, defying the meager air conditioning he had set in place. A typical April morning in these parts; just warm enough to make one sweat… He stirred, thus began the story…
"Hnngh…"
…
Which was going to start once he woke up…
"Mmmm…"
…
He was going to wake up – that fact was certain,
"Five more minutes…"
Oh, for fuck's sake-
"Hn…"
-HEY! Wake up and smell the Newports, Asshole! It's time to start the God-damned story!
A faint whiff of pain went through his temple, finally waking him up for good. Suddenly aware of the world, he jolted up on the couch, sitting upright in a record 0.12 seconds. A cracking sound came from his jaw as he let loose a great big yawn, signifying the end of his hibernation. Tiredly, he rubbed the crust off his eyes and clicked his tongue.
"Shit… Now I'm hearing voices in my head?"
No, he was not.
"Weird… it's gone…"
In fact, there were never any in the first place. Anything he claimed to hear was all in his head, and there was in fact no Narrator taking cheap shots at him. But that's enough talk about nonexistent issues, let's turn our focus onto our friend in question:
This sad sack of hillbilly manure could be identified by his current moniker – Lee Adams Dougherty.
"Is somebody talking shit right now?..."
According to the latest census, he was a resident of Bainesborough, Kentucky – not Boonesborough the historical settlement founded by folk hero what's-his-name – Bainesborough, the muddy hill where a menthol pack's worth of slack-jawed, snaggle-toothed yokels parked their pretty little trailers. It was the sort of place that was such a third-world shithole, Google Maps didn't even bother to record its miserable existence.
Hell, by some definitions, this horde of hovels unworthy of the esteemed title "trailer park" could have been considered Hell on Earth; which considering Lee's circumstances, made it all the more ironic.
You see, he wasn't human – in fact, Lee wasn't even his real name. This strapping young fellow was a Devil-American – emphasis on American. He wasn't really proud of the first part of his heritage for a number of reasons; one of which being nitwit parents' bright idea to assign the mouthful of shit that was Adrammelech on his satanic birth certificate.
If he were any other devil, he would have been perfectly fine with that name. Supposedly, it was an honorable name down there, as evidenced by it being the 12th most popular, but alas, there was a complication: he retained his memories and sensibilities from his last go on the reincarnation roulette wheel. As a former human from the "real" world and proud member of the Anglosphere, Adrammelech Ó Dochartaigh wasn't exactly the most user friendly of names – no offense to the Devil-Irishmen out there.
But, he couldn't blame his current species too much for their awful naming sense – the poor bastards probably got conked in the head a few times on the way down by God-
"Ow! fuck…"
-Right, The Big Man Upstairs. He couldn't say that petty bastard's name in vain anymore, despite breaking those oh-so-precious commandments being part of his job description. Truly the life of a devil was that of minor inconveniences…
"Satan, I'm an idiot…"
Right, he was!
"So how did he get here?" You might ask…
Well… it's a long story…
He used to be a normal human college student, with dreams of a normal future, having a long, boring life without much hardship outside of his parents' divorce and the occasional constipation. And it was with that last part that the Big Man Upstairs decided to play the most epic of pranks.
He gave him Ass Cancer.
…
…
…I repeat – He gave him fucking Ass Cancer…
Yeah, it's one of those death stories; not quite boring enough that your eyes glaze over at obituary section of your local paper's website, but not quite epic enough to warrant a Darwin Award or a Florida Man article. A fitting end for a young man like him, but the narrator digresses,
By the time that he finally realized that it wasn't the usual hemorrhoids, the little bundles of funny cells down there had already metastasized all over his body, especially up in his noggin. Chemo didn't do jack, neither did radiation, nor any other new or experimental treatments. Before he knew it, he was stuck on his death bed with a hospital bill that would make even Elon Musk flinch.
Safe to say, those last few months were far from pleasant. Stuck wearing the most blindingly ugly hospital gown on planet Earth, blind in one eye, and hallucinating demons and shit and shitting demons for the rest of his mortal days.
Then one day, it ended.
Poof!
There was no more suffering to be had. He was now a soul floating in the void…
What a hell of a way to go… Was the only thing he had to say about it. Lazily, he did his best impression of nothing…
…
…
…
But that wasn't the end! Would've been a boring way to end a life and story, and the universe, frankly, was tired of boring that day.
And as it turned out, it certainly was a hell of a way to go…To Hell.
The afterlife, a totally monolithic and very much malicious force, decided in its infinite wisdom that he should try once more as a born-again Satanist. Thus a screaming little baby known to the Underworld as Adrammelech Ó Dochartaigh was born.
Unfortunately, unlike what that Rated H for Holy Shit Chinese Cartoon showed, there was no noble life of luxury to be found for a devil, because he was yet another victim of the almighty forces of probability and population statistics.
The Ó Dochartaigh family, despite the fancy unpronounceable name, didn't amount to anything in the underworld, since they were filthy commoners. This meant that he wasn't gonna grow up with that "blast shit with magic – sex, drugs, and rock n' roll" kind of devil life; instead, he would have a more "work those Satan-damned fields before Lord Phenex comes and deep fries your ass" kind of existence.
What? You thought the National Labor Relations Board existed down in Hell?
Hah, you'd fuckin' wish…
The last time there was anything hinting at collective bargaining there, one of the Baels swooped in and did what that lizardman Bezos couldn't, make them disappear. But once again, the Narrator was getting off track…
Essentially, considering the population distribution of Hell, which was 0.01% worth a damn and 99.99% below burger-flipping wages, he was screwed from the very start. And to make it even worse, his new family used to be of the former category, proudly descended from Dochartach Ó Súilleabháin, an Irish warrior who was among the first of the reincarnated devils.
But then dear old Daddy had to piss off one of the Phenex's cousins and that status was taken away awful quick. Guess who was born around that time… Poor ol' Adrama… Addrema… Adramela… Fuck it, Lee!
Lee's new father, being unable to own up to own fuck ups, did what any other family man with a medieval moral compass would do: he blamed everything on Lee and his wife and made generous use of the belt.
Can you say, "Domestic Violence"?
The Narrator certainly can, Dora!
Unsurprisingly in Hell, this was considered normal, if exceptional parenting. No wonder devils were all so screwed up…
Essentially, if you want a summary of Lee's Isekai Experience…
– No Fun
– No Anime Girls
– No Cheat Powers
– Welcome to the Wheat Fields, Bitch.
It sucked.
It sucked, bad.
It sucked a whole Vietnamese knockoff Gucci bag full of rat shit and hepatitis infected donkey dicks!
So, Lee did what a rational person would do – he ran away, and to make a very long story short, he somehow found his way back to Earth; specifically, his old homeland from another life, the good ol' U.S. of A! But it wasn't the same one as before:
Some new cities existed while others were nowhere to be seen, the Catholic church was just called the "Holy Church" as if Martin Luther not King just didn't exist or something, and all the shows and franchises here sounded like porn parodies of themselves.
Seriously, "Drag-So Ball"? "A.C.Q.U.A.I.N.T.A.N.C.E.S"? "Breaking Worse"? "Garry Potter"? Metaphysical copyright's a real bitch, ain't it…
And… Oh yeah! It was 2011 – a whole different era as far as he's concerned. If there was an equivalent to him in this world, they would probably be around 8 at this point, squeaking and raging at randos in Modern Warfare 2…
…But Earth was still the same blue-green ball he knew in his little black devil heart. America the beautiful was still his true home, not the medieval fields of the Phenex's. It didn't take long for him to decide to stay.
With a lot of work and a little magic, he managed to spoof enough documents to convince the federal government that he wasn't some illegal alien, even though he literally was. Getting his foot down was a little tough, though, but through doing odd jobs and making new friends, he was able to hold a place for himself, even if it was just a run down trailer home.
He cherished this little place he found himself in. It may have been a shitpit in a shithole village, but it was his shitpit in a shithole village.
Another yawn took him over, and he planted his foot on the ground, ready to start a new day.
Crunch!
…The distinctive sound of a cheap metal beer can being crushed greeted his tired ears. He looked down, and there laid a gargantuan aluminum problem right at his feet.
Now if only his roommate cherished this place as much as he did…
Satan-dammit…
"Cletus,"
No response.
…
"Cletus,"
Still nothing.
…
"Cletus!"
Nada.
…
"CLETUS! GET YER LAZY FUCKIN' ASS OVER HERE AND CLEAN THESE CANS UP!"
Thump. Thump. Crash! Thump. Thump. Thump…
Cletus's bedroom door squealed like a stuck pig as it opened into the living room. A familiar set of hungover eyes peered from the darkness.
"Hwa?..."
He was what you could reasonably expect if you heard the words "Redneck Teenager": woefully behind in both education and fashion, rocking the Forrest Gump haircut, a mac-n'-cheese stained wifebeater hanging off his skinny frame, and a pair of boxers that Lee assumed haven't been washed in a few days.
A true gentleman this one was. But it wasn't like Lee was much better with his mullet, and strange fondness for red baseball caps despite never sharing sympathy to a certain cheeto in either of his lives.
"You thought you was smart making those cans my problem?"
"I dunno what yer talkin' 'bou-"
"-Yeah, yeah… Do it. I don't wanna hear your damn excuses. Git cleanin'."
"But Lee, I was goin' to-"
"To what? Beat off? It aint fuckin'..." Lee paused to yawn, "... rocket surgery Cleats! Look…"
Lee tiredly raised his hand and one of the cans started glowing. It floated up in the air like a balloon, lazily hovering its way over the recycling bin out of the other's view before dropping.
"You pick it up, and put it in the recyclin' bin. I don't see what's so hard about that,"
"Okay, Okay- I'll do it-"
"Chop chop!" With another wave of his hand, Lee gave Cletus a little motivation in the form of a telekinetic push, "Those things ain't throwin' themselves away!"
Cletus rushed over to start picking them up before suddenly freezing in place, staring at the two bins with an unfocused gaze…
…Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me!
"...You do remember which one's the recycling one… right?"
"..."
"Right?"
"..."
Cletus threw the can, the trajectory clearly going towards the trash. Before suddenly,
Vwooomph!
For a split second, it seemed that time froze in place. Then came a flash of light, almost burning off Lee's poor retinas. By the time he blinked the spots away, he watched as Cletus threw the same can into the recycling bin with an expression of victory.
"Did you?... You seriously used your time travel for that!?"
"I dun't do nuthin', Lee."
"Bullshit! Did you just forget that [Tempus Cēdit] flashes like a motherfucker when you use it?"
"...Oh."
"Yeah, Oh!"
Lee loved Cletus like the brother he never had… But Satan-dammit he was downright special sometimes. But, just like his shitpit trailer in a shithole village, Cletus may have been an idiot, but he was his idiot. And he was going to be stuck with this idiot for a long, long time, because he used that Queen piece on this motherfucker.
"Wait. Wait. Wait. Queen Piece? I thought Lee was a commoner who couldn't afford such fancy things like evil pieces?"
Well, while that might be true, when you have easy access to a large population of stray devils, you tend to be surrounded by pieces of all types, however corrupted/damaged they are. And with a creative use of [Tempus Cēdit], they were able to revert that evil piece to all the way before it was even assigned to its original master, whoever it was. Which he then used to reincarnate his friend; after asking for permission, of course – he was no Fanon!Rias.
"But what about the king-"
Shh! SHH! No spoilers!
"Two voices… fuck…" He muttered under his breath, being a total schizo-
"Wuzzat?" Cletus paused for a second, before going back to work.
…However, for all his deficiencies in certain areas, Cletus Orion Green sure as hell lived up to his middle namesake, as he was one helluva stray hunter – to the point of even being considered an idiot savant.
Even as a regular human he was an expert headhunter. Once, he took down a stray rook in three seconds flat, armed with only a stick and an old, rusted butterknife. He only grew better from there upon the discovery of his Sacred Gear and his recent devilhood.
Plus, if he actually gave a fuck about his appearance, he would probably be drowning in women. But that was like asking a politician to not be corrupt – never in a million years…
"Would ya hurry up? You work like a geezer fucking an old broad."
"Shut up! Now I got dat image stuck 'n my 'ead! Blegh, I don' wanna think 'bout it…"
"Wait, you think? How incredible – I thought it was just hot air between those ears!"
"Fuck you. Why don' you go and help!?"
"'Cause these are your cans, not mine. I'm not lazy like you, Cleats."
"..."
Cletus opened his mouth, before just clicking his tongue. Spitefully, he started cleaning up even slower, much to Lee's frustration. Eventually, Lee lost his patience and-
Crunch!
The cans suddenly all flew up in the air, crushing themselves into a small ball, spraying Cletus with stale booze.
"Hey-!"
Thunk!
"-Ow!"
The ball flew and bounced off Cletus's forehead, ricocheting towards the bin.
Unable to hold himself any longer, Lee broke out into maniacal laughter, "HA! Hahahahahaha!"
"Har de fuckin' har…"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Ahh… the porch.
A place where those of lower classes retreat to for some semblance of solitude – the closest thing they'll get to a vacation home. Upon this rickety structure, made only of plywood and prayers, Lee and Cletus sat listlessly on the rocking couch.
They were being the exact opposite of productive, but it wasn't like they had a choice. Neither of their minimum wage jobs had any shifts open that day, and their ahem… less than legal ventures were also hitting a dry spell.
Simply put, they had nothing to do, and were bored out of their minds…
"'Ey, Lee…"
"Yeah?"
"How dat college thing goin'?"
"Didn't get shit. Still waitin'..."
Unfortunately, Lee, despite being a productive citizen working hard to achieve his dream of completing college this time around… he was still getting the raw-dog treatment from the United States Department of Education. As if applying for student loans wasn't already hell enough, Lee had to apply the old fashioned way since he was a figurative orphan without access to reliable internet.
Oh, boy howdy did he have a lot to say:
First of all, the damn papers didn't even reach his doorstep the first five times because the mailman was too busy jerking off his dog or something.
Then, he had to fill out endless forms chock-full of meandering, nonsensical, wooden language-infested, bureaucratic bullshit.
He sends it back after finishing filling it out, crossing i's, dotting t's, fingering v's, the whole nine yards… But oops! He wrote a zero wrong, and it looked a little too much like a six, which meant: "Go fuck youself, Lee, do it all over again!"
He did it again, they sent it back for an equally idiotic reason,
Then repeat,
And repeat,
And repeat ad nauseam,
And repeat ad suīcīdium.
Then, when the government got around to pulling that reinforced concrete California Redwood out their collective rear ends, they finally accepted the damn forms.
Hip! Hip! Hooray!
Now, he was able to apply for the one college that even bothered looking at his application – the shittiest, lowest-rated one in the whole Great State of Kentucky – because a GED and straight A's on every conceivable test just wasn't enough for those picky assholes everywhere else.
And guess what? He still got rejected!
Because of… "something-something no more room for new applicants, something-something affirmative action-" he didn't bother reading the rest before burning the letter up in rage.
God bless America, the land of opportunity… unless you're poor.
So, yeah… he was a bit salty about it… So what?
"Mmhmm, da gub'ment don' give one lick a damn 'bout folk like us…"
Thank you Cletus, very cool!
"Yup…" Was Lee's monosyllabic response.
But, even his built up fury against the Edumacation Racket washed, down a with swig of that pisswater Cletus called "beer," couldn't solve his boredom, "Well, to be fair, if the government started given' a shit, they woulda busted your ass for being 19 and buyin' booze and me for smokin' that good shit."
"Huh… Haven't thought 'bout it that way…" Cletus nodded, with a very, very dim lightbulb over his head, "Well, as my Mama used to say, ev'ry cloud has a silver linin'"
Vrooom! Vroooooom!...
A very familiar sound caught their ears. Looking up, they both watched as a large pickup truck, shoddily painted to match the General Lee of Dukes of Hazzard fame, barrelled down the dirt avenues of Bainesborough at top speed.
"Well, Cletus, looks like an orange linin's thunderin' down real quick… I wonder what's up Blowjob's ass today?..."
"Hey! You know damn well that Billy-Joel don't like dat name,"
"What can I say? You blow a racoon, you get the name,"
Cletus tsked and shook his head.
The pickup slid around a corner, sliding in the mud, before making a rapid bee line towards their trailer. Lee gritted his teeth,
"I swear to Satan, if he runs over my mailbox agai-"
Thwack! Crash!
"-and there he goes, Motherfucker! Hey!" the figure inside the pickup didn't hear him, "... Hey! That's my fucking mailbox ya half-wit Cro-Magnon!"
"He can't hear ya from here, ya know" Cletus sighed.
"No shit, but that don't change that I'm still fucking pissed; that mailbox cost me half my last paycheck!"
As if in a drunken stupor, the figure clumsily crawled out of the pickup truck with a blank expression.
Introducing… the idiot that Lee wasted a rook on, Blowjob a.k.a. Billy-Joel muthafuckin' Robertson – muthafuckin' included because considering the state of the Robertson's, Lee would honestly not be surprised.
If you were to open a dictionary and look for "dumb brute", you would find a picture of him – a 6 foot 8 mountain of muscle who couldn't tell you what "2 + 2" was, even if his life depended on it. At the very least, he was useful in beating up strays; like the Hulk, but somehow even dumber.
Hurriedly waddling over to the porch like a dad rushing to the fridge for some beer before the game starts, Billy-Joel's face quickly morphed into a blinding smile upon seeing Lee and Cletus.
"Guys! I just found-"
"Ahem…" Lee gestured at the splintered remains of his mailbox…
"Oh… sorry, Lee! I was in a bit of a rush…"
"..."
"..."
"...You're paying for it,"
"Aw man!" Billy-Joel shrunk down dejectedly.
"Wait, wait, wait," Cletus butted in, "What did ya find?"
"Ah, right! Well, I just found the biggest stash o' moonshine and-"
"And you were fucking driving!?" Lee squawked.
"I didn't drink none of it!"
My poor, poor mailbox disagrees…
Cletus elbowed Lee in the side, "Let 'im finish," before turning back to Billy-Joel, "... But that moonshine part ain't givin' us a lot o' confidence 'bout yer drivin',"
"Hey! Y'don't git t' judge me, Cleats! I'm the only one of us dat past'ed da lick'enses test."
"Lick'enses? What on Earth?..."
"License test, Blowjob. It's pronounced Lie-Sense Test,"
"And you didn' ever pass one, Lee – What dat say 'bout you, genie-ess?..."
Damn it, the idiot got me there.
To his eternal shame, not even in this life was Lee able to obtain a driver's license. Driving is hard, okay!
"We're gettin' distracted," Cletus chimed, somehow holding the group's sole brain cell, "What else did ya find, Billy-Joel?"
"Well, right near da moonshine, dere was dis glowin' thingy on da ground, all… What's dat shape dat's a circle wit' a star inside it again?"
"A Pentagram?"
"Oh, yeah! Dat!" Billy-Joel nodded like an excited puppy.
Lee felt a niggling migraine come on, "You found a magic circle?"
"If dat's what 't's called, I guess I did,"
Breathe in… Breathe out…
"Alright, Cletus, call Mercedes, tell him we're gonna pick him up. Blowjob,"
Billy-Joel perked up,
"I'm the one drivin', not you, lick'enses tests be damned. Let's go!"
"Lee, Satan dammit, hurry up! I gotta piss like R. Kelly!" Cletus whined, rocking back and forth in the passenger seat.
"I told you to do your business at the truck stop, but ya didn't listen. Hold it in."
"But I didn't need to go then!"
"Too fuckin' bad,"
The pickup truck hit a large bump, and Cletus winced. This particular section that Lee was driving was a good example of your typical American back-country road – barely paved and a kick in the nuts to any suspension that didn't belong to a monster truck.
There really wasn't anything to write home about with the scenery, it was the same kind of woods you would see anywhere else in eastern Kentucky, or anywhere in Appalachia for that matter, letting you know that you were still firmly in doin'-it-Habsburg-style country, and far, far away from human civilization.
Lee drove relatively fast down the winding road. Not too fast though; you never know where a state trooper was hiding, even with those big-ass R. Lee Ermey hats they all wore. He would rather not be busted for driving without a license thank you very much.
But in all unfairness, those pigs would probably racial profile his friend in the back seat long before they got around to him.
Oh, right… The Narrator who still doesn't exist forgot to introduce him:
Here was Mercedes Schrader-Vasquez, a bishop piece and the latest member of this disaster of a peerage.
"¿Qué puñetas?... Debo estar volviéndome loco jodidamente…"
It was a long story on how they met in the first place – all that could be said for now was that it involved an impromptu trip to Puerto Rico, 500 pounds of cocaine, and a very, very bloody inflatable dolphin. What could be said a lot quicker was what he contributed to the group, and that was his magic skills.
Yep, you heard that right, they somehow managed to nab a wizard in their travels. Though, Mercedes was far from an expert.
But when you were running on a "budget of opportunity(TM)" as Lee might have optimistically called it, you'd take what you could get. And luckily, the half-latino had partially completed his education and training in the subject. Partially, because his late father was kicked out of Grauzauberer for… reasons; reasons that involved the coke and the dolphin…
…It was best not broach that subject with him…
"I swear to Satan, I keep hearing shit…" Lee muttered under his breath.
Well who the fuck knew? Maybe this hillbilly fuck and his girly-named wizard friend did hear the Narrator! He didn't fucking care, he was just here to share their miserable stories – Ahem-
-Right, fuck…
They all soon came upon their destination, and Lee parked the pickup on the side of the road. The very instant the truck came to a full stop, Cletus did a Houdini speedrun to his seatbelt and flew out the door, disappearing into the trees fast enough to make the Viet Cong and Bigfoot proud.
"Pendejo…"
"We speak inglés on this side of the border, Taco Bell."
Mercedes snorted, "I honestly don't know what insults me more; the fact that you called me a Mexican, or that you associate me with such dogshit food."
"Whatever tickles yer pickle more, Eduardo" Lee pulled up the e-brake, "Alright, you, follow me – Blowjob, stay near the truck, I don't trust you with that moonshine."
"Aw man!..."
Ach! Someone so big shouldn't be able to give such strong puppy eyes!
…
Fifteen Minutes Later – Innawoods…
Disappointingly, the moonshine was, for lack of nicer words, absolute dogshit – it tasted like bleach, paint thinner, and rat piss with a faint whiff of Shrek's swamp ass, and it smelled like it too. Even the alphabet agencies wouldn't use it in their enhanced interrogations, so there was no money to be found.
On the other hand, though, the magic circle was exactly what Billy-Joel had described. Lee set up a little camp nearby, and Mercedes, as the resident magic expert, went to town on the pentagram.
"You figure anythin' out, Mercedes?"
"Well, for one, this thing is old… Like, Pre-Cristóbal Colón old, and two, I'm 90% sure it's Devil in origin. Gotta have to take a closer look if we want to know for sure." He responded with his usual faint accent.
"Great, try not to fuck with it too much, Don't want no Bible-thumpers findin' out." Lee scoffed, "I swear, this part of the state got more revival tent meetings than teeth…"
"Ehh… Don't worry about that, they'll be too busy with their 'Family Reunions,' you see… hehe,"
"So says the boy-diddlin' Papist."
"Oh no, no, no, no! You got it all wrong – I ain't no filthy Catholic mamabicho. I follow no trinity but me, myself, and I-"
Brustle…
"Howdy!" Cletus popped up out of nowhere, zipping up his fly so fast, Lee was astonished that he didn't cut his privates off with it.
"¡-Dios me salve!"
Ow! A shot of pain slammed through Lee's skull like a baseball bat.
Ach! Fuck!
Mercedes, meanwhile, jumped back like a scared cat who had just seen a ninja cucumber, leaping a full five feet in the air. Upon landing, the edge of his foot brushed against the pentagram.
The air suddenly became cold…
"..."
"..."
"...Mierda,"
A bright red flash blinded the three of them.
Meanwhile in Kuoh, Japan…
Tonight, for one young man, a miracle of miracles had occurred:
The "Wannabe Harem King" himself, Hyoudou Issei, scored a date with a real, living, breathing, human girl. But not just any other real, living, breathing, human girl – she was hot as hell too! Truly, he was blessed upon this wondrous day…
As he walked along the park path, her hand grasping his palm, he thanked every God imaginable, real or not, and his lucky stars for this moment.
The wind brushed by him as she let go of his hand, eagerly rushing towards the fountain ahead, midnight black hair flying as she did so. Confused, he followed her, desperately trying to keep pace despite his unathletic build. It was when she stopped to glance at the water, that his mind caught up to him.
Ah… Yuuma-chan wants to make a wish?...
Slowly, she turned around, and their eyes met… yet for some reason, he couldn't help but think about the strange encounter he had before this date. A cute girl in cosplay shoved a flier into his hands before disappearing into the crowd. Stunned, he stupidly stuttered and stammered his way into dropping said flier down a storm drain. One part of him regretted not catching up to her and asking for another, the other part…
Damn it! I was so close to starting a harem! SO! CLOSE! Yet you had to blow it, Issei!
"A-ano…" She stuttered quietly, dragging Issei away from him mentally punching himself.
Oh shit, gotta focus!
"What is it, Yuuma-chan?"
"There's something I want to do to celebrate our first date. C-can you listen to my wish?"
Here it was, the moment of truth…
This is it! Today's the day that I, Hyoudou Issei, will no longer be some virgin loser! Suck it Matsuda and Motohama! Who's your king now!?
Issei's heart pounded in anticipation, he was barely able to contain himself.
"Uh… W-what is that wish, Y-Yuuma-chan?"
Damn it, he sounded like a weak idiot right there! He prayed that she didn't notice that slip up… and that she didn't notice the thing that was causing a very familiar and uncomfortable feeling in his pants…
Not now, old friend… maybe later…
"...Could you please die for me?"
Wait… What?
"Uh… c-can you p-please repeat that, Yuuma-chan? I-I must have misheard…"
Fwoosh!
Feathers flew everywhere as suddenly, great black wings spawned out of nowhere from her back. Her school uniform gave way to a tight black… was there even enough to call that lingerie? Not that I'm complaining… Her once innocent smile sharpened into an expression spitting disdain.
With a great flap, she catapulted up in the air. She glanced down upon his frozen form imperiously.
"You heard me, human. Die."
W-wha.. HOW!?
The rest of his brain finally caught up to what he was seeing.
"W-what are yo-?"
Squelch!
Before Issei could finish, something long, hard, and uncut struck below, and it wasn't his old friend. A large pink spear pierced his ribcage, but strangely enough, it was translucent and glowing with malice. Shocked, he tried to firmly grasp it, only for it to burn his hands.
It suddenly became hard to breathe for Issei, as every time he tried, a sharp pain exploded upon his chest. A large great red stain grew upon his jacket, and the taste of copper greeted the back of his throat.
"Sorry, but you were a threat to us, so we had to get rid of you early. If you want to hold a grudge, then hate the God who put the Sacred Gear into- What the fuck is that!?"
Huh!?
A large red pentagram appeared under his feet. It glowed for a few seconds, but then it flashed and he was surrounded by woods and trees. His legs finally gave in and he collapsed onto the dirt, uncontrollably coughing up blood.
His vision blurred – he was only able to make out a few figures, one with a red hat of some kind…
"Is… Is that who I think it is?" Red Hat asked something in… English?
"¿Q-qué?"
Weakly, Issei raised his blood covered hand towards them, the other tight against his chest,
"H-help… me…"
Red Hat facepalmed, and sighed.
"Mercedes, you fucking Chrysler!"
Issei passed out.
It was evident that things weren't going to plan, as a bunch of idiot Americans just kidnapped the protagonist.
Whoops.
AN: Boy oh boy, another fucking DxD story from me? Who woulda guessed!? Hopefully this one won't end up in hiatus hell like the other… I hope. See ya next chapter!