I own nothing damn it! Stop harassing me!

"Oh my head." Amy said as she sat up.

The setting was unfamiliar as always. A seedy motel room that was incredibly dirty and sleazy. The sheets in the bed she sat on were wet with sweat, she hoped, and the room in general was trashed and very disgusting. The only light in the room was issued forth by lamp without a shade. Her head pounding, Amy stood up and put her feet on the floor.

That's when she noticed she was nude. She scanned the room for anything that might remotely seem like clothing she could wear. She was in luck. She found a pair of red leather pants, a pair of matching boots and a red tank top. They were nice to look at and actually fit like a dream.

Amy stumbled to the bathroom and flipped the light switch on. Not even bothering to look around, she turned the sink's faucet on and began to run water. Splashing it on her face made her feel a little bit better. It was almost like she had a hangover. Popping her neck she stood up and jumped back when she looked in the mirror. There were words written on it in red lipstick.

"Amy, I hope you enjoy the clothes. They seemed your size and they'll do for me as well. Love, M."

Amy read the words over and sighed. Then her eyes scanned further down.

"P.S., please take care of that mess."

Amy suddenly felt sick. These words in red lipstick haunted Amy, mainly because she didn't have any red lipstick. Slowly she turned and saw the woman's body in the bathtub. Amy almost screamed when she saw the blood that caked the walks. She fell backwards onto her ass and curled her legs up and tried not to look at the sight.

"Portal!" She screamed.

The body instantly sunk into the portal beneath it. And Amy sat there on the bathroom tile, crying. She was bad, but the things HE did were terrible. And there was no escape from him. None at all. They were stuck with one another.

The demon scene in Los Angeles is much like that of any other major metropolitan city. Metropolis, New York, Gotham, Chicago, they all are primarily the same when it comes to this very special side of their underworlds. L.A. is tad different though, mainly because of two things. First and foremost there are the law offices of Wolfram and Hart, an interdimensional organization that can provide gainful employment for any of the non-human organisms.

Then there is also a new player in town, and that makes this city all the more special. Because he is quite frankly one scary son of a bitch. And right now, he's walking to one of his favorite night spots.

The big hulking Minotaur at the door immediately backed away and allowed the newcomer to cut in line in front of the other patrons. He learned his lesson the first night when the newcomer wanted in and he refused to let him in right at that moment. The Minotaur suffered a terrible series of fractures in his right arm. Luckily he knew a guy who knew a warlock and got himself all patched up, but from that night on he always smiled and opened the door for his assailant.

Now there are many clubs in L.A. Some cater to humans only, others like Lux cater to both crowds, but this particular club, The Devil's Own, is supernatural only. Inside, a succubus is waiting tables, delivering a round of drinks to a few zombies. A human corpse is being used as a dart board by some Nightbreed, while a Der Kinderstod and werewolf chat philosophy at a nearby table. At the bar, the cyclopean bartender slides a few beers (with soul extract) down to a few customers.

"I tell ya bub; cleaning floors ain't nothing like being a bio-exorcist. I just wish I could get out there once in a while to cause some real mayhem ya know? But I'm stuck here. And I don't even get to stay here very long before Juno yells for me to get back down there. Sometimes, afterlife sucks." a Ghoul in a striped zoot suit with stringy blonde hair said.

"I hear ya. I gotta kill kids in their dreams here; I gotta kill kids in their dreams there. Sometimes I just wish that Nightmare would quit sending me on these fucking errands so I could just relax and hang out with you more B.J." his company said as he lifted his glass with a bladed hand.

"You're a good friend, Fred. Here's to 'ya!"

In the center of the room, where you'd expect to find a mechanical bull there is only a ten foot pit. Patrons are crowded around yelling down below at the current death match taking place within. A shark demon that was all smiles (no pun intended) smirked at the manager of his fighter's competition. The short pale man with greasy hair simply sighed as he saw his competitor torn apart down in the pit.

"Take you ill gotten money." The greasy man said to the shark demon.

"Heh. Glad to do business with you, Mr. Tap. Now go on home and tell Ms. Roulette that there's a reason that most dinosaurs went extinct. Not even that raptor you brought here all the way from Isla Sorna can stand up to a Turok-Han." The shark demon smiled.

Deep in the pit, the Turok-Han roared over its kill and held the head of the raptor high.

The newcomer smirked at what was going on here. It has been a good idea to take over this shoddy little hellhole and make it into something truly spectacular. A little incantation his better half weaved also provided a decent cloak from Wolfram and Hart, because he knew that they were looking for him. But soon, they wouldn't even really be that much of a threat.

He looked to the bartender and made sure that he was seen, even with that one eye. He snapped his fingers and the bartender quickly went to work to make his drink. The newcomer smiled and walked to the private booth that belonged to him now that he was owner of the club.

He remembered how he had found the previous owner sitting there the fist night he came in, and "convinced" him to sign it over to him. Well before he was torn to bits and scattered from the Valley to Malibu. The newcomer scowled when he saw someone was sitting in his booth, with his feet up presumptuously.

He was young looking and human in appearance and wore solid black, with a black trench coat. That screamed vampire. His hair was bleached blonde and at first glance he was mistaken for the Slayer's pet vampire. But his hair was more spiked and longer, like a mullet. He was also smirking hugely.

"I hear you're the guy to talk to around here." The vampire at the table said.

"I am."

The vampire was instantly gripped by the neck and thrown halfway across the club. The newcomer sat down in his booth and watched the surprised vampire rise to his feet and shakily walk back over towards the table.

"Hell of an arm there." The vampire said, holding his neck as he approached the table.

"You have no idea. Now, do you mind telling me what you were doing in my booth? Make it quick before I tear your heart out and feed it to you."

"I just wanted to get your attention. You've ignored me every other time I've tried to get it." The vampire stated.

"I'm not on to be bothered." The one in the both growled, "Didn't anyone try and stop you from getting in my booth?"

"They tried. But I'm persistent. I just wanted to get your attention." The vampire said again.

"So what's it to be? Are you challenging me or trying to sell me something? Either way it's rather annoying. It happens almost every night."

"Yeah, but not everyone sits in your booth every night." The vampire countered, "That alone has balls. And balls I have in spades."

"Ah, you're selling something." The one in the booth smirked.

"I figure I am." The vampire replied.

"What are you selling and what makes you think I'm interested?"

"I'm selling my eyes, ears, and my fists." The vampire replied.

"I have enough bouncers here thank you. And if I need a bodyguard, it obviously wouldn't be someone I could manhandle so easily."

"Well, that's not exactly what I'm selling." The vampire said again, pulling up a chair from a nearby table, "That's not my line of work."

"What is?"

"I'm good with other things. More under the table kind of stuff. I know how to help run an organization and I figure I'm as good a lieutenant as anyone you can get around these parts. I can keep my eyes peeled for anyone who might want to move in on your territory and if I can help take them out like that." The vampire said snapping his fingers.

"Go on."

"I'm smart, I'm fast, and I'm strong. Most of all I'm persistent. I came and sat in your booth just to get your attention and when you threw me across the room, I just got up and came back to talk business. I could have run, but I didn't. I figure if you want me dead you can kill me anytime. And I didn't run from your goons when they tried to toss me out for sitting there. I got nothing to lose that I haven't lost already. That's my philosophy." The vampire smiled.

The being in the booth smiled at the vampire.

"Now you, I'm starting to like, but what makes you think I need a lieutenant?"

"You're just getting established here. Bang up job so far, but bad as you are you're gonna need somebody who knows the business like I do." The vampire said.

"And how do you know it? From your mannerisms you seem young for a vampire. You're probably not even a century old."

"That's true. Got brought over in the sixties, but I helped my sire run a town up north called Santa Carla. Our brood pretty much had the run of the place until about sixteen years or so ago. Hunters came in and wiped out everybody but me." The vampire replied.

"And how'd you escape?"

The vampire smirked, "Here's a rule of thumb, only wood to the heart kills vampires. Antelope horns hurt like hell, but that's about it."

The one in the booth smirked.

"Look, if you want somebody at your side to help keep an eye on things and maybe run a few hoes or drugs, than I'm your man. Hell, I made a living by siphoning my own blood off and selling it to junkies. Gives 'em one hell of a high. I know how to work a business like this." The vampire stated as he stood and broke the leg off of his chair, "But if not, take this and jam right into my mother fucking heart, because seriously, I got nothing to lose I ain't lost already."

The one in the booth stood and took the stake from the vampire and pressed it into his chest hard. The vampire hissed in pain and his vamped out as the shard of wood was slowly worked into his chest cavity. However, he didn't struggle or even try and get away. He just stood there and smiled. The stake was recoiled and dropped.

"You'll begin immediately."

"Sweet. Name's David by the way." The vampire smirked.

"Well, David, don't disappoint me. When you work for Mephisto, you have Hell to pay if you fuck up." Mephisto growled as he sat back down, clad in red leather pants and a red tank top.

"Got it." David smirked as he walked away, whistling Sympathy for the Devil.

Mephisto smiled and closed his eyes.

"I love that song."