Over the next few weeks, Lincoln and Mrs. Mayberry got acquianted with each other as unofficially mother and son. As they delved deep into their training sessions, Loona had to go back and tend to the I.M.P. headquarters after a couple of "happy" accidents there. She would not go into full detail, but it apparently involved a trio of heavenly cherubs in the first accident and a fellow Imp who was an assassin posing as a farmhand for Millie's family in the second. Mrs. Mayberry had promised to Loona that Lincoln would be in good hands, but even she shared her doubts with the teenage Hellhound.
Lincoln was not as creative or crafty on social media like his older sister was, but he still made an effort to think like Lori when introducing Mrs. Mayberry to the wonders (and horrors) of social media. It was somewhat helpful that some of the social media sites down here were basically dark reflections of the social media sites up there. Fearbook, XXX, and especially Sinstagram were some of the notable ones, so it was a slow but surefire start. They had to tread carefully whenever they were on thin ice, though, lest they end up like a now officially banned user dubbed moth_pimp. Taking a quick glance at the user's archived profile made them both agree that moth_pimp was nothing but trouble.
When he got talented enough to conjure up a Sinner disguise to call his own, another day was spent navigating the supernatural realm of Hell, specifically the "Ring" they (as the Sinner demons) were currently cooped up in. Befitting a setting where the most evil and vile of mankind were condemned for committing either one or every single one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Mrs. Mayberry explained that each ring divided and represented a particular piece of the realm: the red Ring was Pride, the orange Ring was Wrath, the yellow Ring was Gluttony, the green Ring was Greed, the blue Ring was Lust, the purple Ring was Envy, and the pink Ring was Sloth.
And as one who was a denizen in Hell, living here would not be a hell of a good time. Mrs. Mayberry had survived with the partial assistance of a fellow goat-like demon who was condemned after three days of supernatural torture. Taking note of her situation, she managed to kill the demon―a "Lamia", whatever that was―with a special weapon, but it did not change the fact that she herself was condemned to Hell from here to eternity. So she decided to pick up where she left off: the fine arts of being a loan officer.
Lincoln secretly prayed for her at every chance he would get.
While going about their days in Pentagram City, he would take notes of the various denizens and the social status they held. His interest was piqued at one group in particular.
"The Overlords?"
"A particularly powerful class of Demons in Hell," Mrs. Mayberry explained as she bought a mini weapons case sent from the Wrath Ring, "They rank just above regular Sinner Demons and place fifth in terms of power in Hell's hierarchy. Some of them are stereotypical mean, evil, and rotten to the core. Others are actually polite, cordial, and affable galore despite their profession. Take Alastor for example."
"Alastor?" Lincoln asked again.
"The Radio Demon, one of the most powerful of the Overlords. He specializes in pyrokinesis, phytokinesis, photokinesis, acoustokinesis, umbrakinesis, and...tentacle creation among other things."
Noticing Mrs. Mayberry's sudden sigh of swooning at that last part, Lincoln was understandably bewildered and grossed out, but it found the idea of his mother figure harboring a crush on one of the most powerful Overlords oddly adorable. Although, he could not deduce the reason why.
"So...you think you may have a chance with him?"
"Oh, no!" A now flustered Mrs. Mayberry giggled and waved him off, "I don't think so. He's out of my league for a number of reasons, not the least of which is his obvious status."
Rubbing her chin, she eventually added, "He's also a cannibal in spite of his cordialness."
"Yikes," Lincoln grimaced as Mrs. Mayberry nodded, "Well, don't give up hope, Mom. I think you'll find someone one day."
"Thanks, Lincoln," Mrs. Mayberry smiled, "I do appreciate it."
BANG-BANG!
BOOM-BOOM!
Suddenly, the sound of gunshots and explosions filled the air as many citizens took cover from the mayhem and madness; others took the time to relish in the death and destruction. Reacting quickly, Mrs. Mayberry pulled Lincoln into a dingy bar and watched a gang war involving a Victorian-era snake demon and a big-busted succubus with wings rapidly escalate. Performing a double take at the last participant, Mrs. Mayberry's anger began to flare up in recognition.
"Martha..."
"Martha?" Lincoln faced her with confusion.
"She's trouble," Mrs. Mayberry growled, "Big trouble."
Feeling Lincoln's left hand clasp around her right, Mrs. Mayberry closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. Drawing her SIG-Sauer P226R and chambering it, she turned to her...
My...
...her son and flashed a comforting smile to him.
"Stay here and stay down, okay?"
Worried that she would get hurt in her pursuit of this Martha, Lincoln nonetheless nodded and watched Mrs. Mayberry carefully make her way outside to the gang war. The schoolteacher meticulously maneuvered through the four fierce and pitiless parties and other savage Sinners who merely wanted a piece of the action. In the heart of the battle, she and Martha locked eyes. The same type of recognition that flashed in Mrs. Mayberry's eyes glinted in Martha's own as well. Unlike her, however, the cannibalistic Satan worshipper grinned with glee as she abandoned her post and took charge at her self-proclaimed nemesis.
As the two tussled in the town square, the owner of the bar produced a Remington 870 with wooden furniture and began to load shotgun shells into the magazine tube. He appeared to be a 18-year-old boy with pitch black hair, navy blue eyes, and a skeletal appearance. He wore his version of a bartender uniform―a royal blue form-fitting, button-up, collared shirt with sleeves; an oxford blue vest with matching pants, and navy blue sneakers with white midsoles. The bar owner should have been angry or sad that the gang war outside was damaging his livelihood, but he was not. Instead, one half was happy that said gang war was the one interesting thing in a daily routine that thrived off the tedium, and the other half? The other half betrayed a sense of defeat, as if eighteen years of performance issues snowballed out of control and went downhill from there.
He used to be a musician, and a very talented one at that when he actually put in the effort.
The times, they had changed.
The bar owner attached the shotgun to a custom brace on the bar top before loading and chamber-checking his sidearm, a SIG-Sauer P226R to call his own. Holstering his pistol for future usage, he caught a glimpse of a young rabbit demon watching the chaos ensue outside from inside.
"What's your story, kid?" The bar owner called out a question to Lincoln, who looked up and faced him.
"Oh. Um..." Lincoln racked his brain for any viable excuses, "My mom, she has a grudge against Martha."
"Hmm. I bet," The bar owner chuckled before a Sinner crashed through the window and attempted to ransack the establishment.
"Attempt" was the key word.
BOOM!
The bar owner shot a shotgun slug in their eye and another in their chest to blast them out the window. Afterwards, he settled on not a Budweiser, Miller Lite, or even a Heineken...but rather a plain and cool Coca-Cola bottle to refresh before continuing opening fire through the hole in the wall the Sinner had created for themselves.
Deciding to help out, Lincoln drew his two-tone Glock 17 and opened fire as well, holding them back.
Despite internally critiquing his gunfighting skills, the bar owner was nonetheless impressed, "Not exactly a crack shot with a Glock, but I'm nonetheless impressed, kid. Where did you learn your gunfighting skills? Oh, wait. Let me guess: your mom?"
"Definitely," Lincoln nodded proudly before his gun locked empty and he went to reload. As soon as he did, he spotted a group of demonic schoolchildren getting caught in the crossfire. Judging by the look of horror on Mrs. Mayberry's face, it was clear to him that the group meant very dearly to her. And unfortunately for her, the succubus known as Martha caught on and had her followers target them while she handled her nemesis, sending them scrambling all over the place in a panic. Glancing over to the snake demon, Lincoln noted he himself felt just a tad uncomfortable by the scene and actions of the succubus.
Eventually, when most of the children were caught and restrained, one girl fought back with a discarded knife. The girl was a hybrid creature between a deer and a fox; she had the head, body, and tail of a fox, but the antlers and hooved feet of a deer as well. She also had teal blue hair and a fluffy tail that was roughly as long as her body was. Lincoln watched as Martha blasted the deer-fox girl in the chest with her Remington 870 Wingmaster before (as it clicked empty) slinging it over her shoulder in favor of one of her sawn-off double-barreled shotguns.
Roughly hoisting the girl up to face her, Martha cackled out, "Why, young missy...you oughta learn some manners."
"I don't learn," The deer-fox snarled back, "One of my issues."
"Perhaps we should do something about that," Martha smirked before holding the shotgun up to her chin, much to the horror of Mrs. Mayberry, her classmates, and even the snake demon.
BANG-BANG!
Two gunshots to the left arm and right ear made Martha scream out in pain and drop her weapon, her followers turning to face the source. Rushing towards them was a young rabbit Sinner who wielded a two-tone Glock, which he continuously opened fire and reloaded repeatedly as he advanced towards them.
"Damn it, kid!" The bar owner groaned out in exasperation as he charged out behind him, firing his Remington before switching to his SIG-Sauer P226R.
Lincoln paid him no mind as he charged forward, being mindful of his surroundings while reminding himself of the fact that Sinners could not be killed through conventional means. Nonetheless, he found it essential to drive them away and get the rest of the innocents caught in the crossfire out of it and into safety. He knew that Mrs. Mayberry would be angry at him for putting himself in harm's way to do so, but it would be worth it in the end.
Reloading his Glock once more, Lincoln performed head shots into the two Sinners closest before throwing punches and landing kicks to draw the attention of Martha's followers. He was in the middle of mentally thanking Lynn for all those turbulent martial arts lessons when the bar owner caught up to him, wielding his trusty Remington again. One of the slugs he fired managed to hit one of Martha's followers holding Mrs. Mayberry down, the schoolteacher taking the opportunity to wrestle herself away and grab her SIG-Sauer P226R, firing multiple shots around the Sinners restraining her. Afterwards, she ran towards her students and ushered them inside the bar owner's establishment.
BOOM!
Eventually, Lincoln was shot in the side by Martha, whose smirk fell rather quickly and was replaced with a murderous scowl as she marched forward while reloading her double-barrel.
BOOM!
Before she could fire or even attempt to aim at Lincoln, Martha was shot again, this time by the bar owner in her right eye. He continued firing before the snake demon―who had been preoccupied with Martha's minions―wrapped Martha around his tail and threw away into the sky. This prompted many of her remaining followers to retreat and chase after her.
Laying on the ground, Lincoln did not dare to move an inch lest he cough up more blood than he should at the moment. Mrs. Mayberry and the bar owner helped him inside the latter's establishment, the former murmuring softly to her son to hang in there while she tried to get into contact with I.M.P. as the other students led by the deer-fox girl lightly crowded around them. As he breathed softly, his eyes started to close...
...and open...
...and close...
...and open...
...and close...
...as several voices became jumbled...
...muddled...
...rattled...
...and tainted...
...with distortion...
"We found the body, sir. They've never managed to kill one of us before. We should just go down there now and destroy them!"
No, no. We can't risk them catching on. But, don't worry! When we come back, there won't be a demon left alive to pull a stunt like this again!
. . .
"Maybe I'd treat you better if you were real, and not some bullshit version of yourself, always pushing my boundaries. Lemme tell ya, nobody in that hotel cares who you are―how famous, how hot. So you might as well just…cut the act..."
It's not an act! It's who I need to be! And this…this is my escape. Where I can forget about it all, how much I hate… everything. A place where I can get high and not have to think about how much it hurts. And maybe if I can ruin myself enough in the process, if I end up broken, I won't be his favorite toy anymore. And maybe he'll let me go…"
. . .
"I love that you want to see the best in people, but these sinners, you know, they're just the worst. I, I don't know how much you can realistically expect from them, and Heaven? Hohooo boy, Heaven, is not exactly as carefree as you might think. Yeah, they have rules, lots of rules, and they aren't very open minded as you'd hope."
"These are our people, Dad, I… I have to try!"
Our "people", *******, are awful! They got gifted free will and look what they did with it! Everything's terrible!You build something nice, you invite people in and offer them everything and they just bring violence and chaos to your doorstep. It doesn't matter how well intentioned you are, they're always going to disappoint you."
. . .
"Stop saying that and listen to me. You only hear what you want to hear, and it puts us all in danger. How are you supposed to save the world if you can't even keep us safe? You made a pinky promise to me, ***** *****...and you broke it. What kind of queen breaks a pinky promise?!"
. . .
"I don't care if you believe me. **** did. But you didn't trust her. That's why we're here. Do whatever you want. But you're as much to blame for ****'s death as I am."
. . .
"Vengeance has consumed you. It's consuming them. I am done letting it consume me. Justice will come soon enough."
"Tell that to the dead."
. . .
"Saying your goodbyes?"
"Saying hello."
"You think your wife can hear you?"
"No."
"Then why bother?"
"Maybe I'm wrong."
. . .
"You're my friend."
"You're my mission. YOU'RE...MY...MISSION!"
"Then finish it...because I'm with you...to the end of the line..."
. . .
"*****...you drown not by falling into the river...but by staying submerged in it..."
. . .
"I know you."
"You're okay..."
. . .
"Will you take me home?"
. . .
"When I drift off, I will dream about you. It's always you."
. . .
"Extermination...of human souls!? Demon or not, there is NO reason to be doing this."
"They were uprising, *****. It is my position as the head Seraphim to protect our people at all costs. And it's your position to keep them happy and joyful.
"How can I bring joy when I now know we are bringing misery to thousands of innocent people?
"Heaven needs us, *****. Everyone looks to us...and we can't doubt ourselves or worry about the fates of demons when we have our own souls to protect. Please...if you start to question, you could end up like Lucifer. FALLEN. I couldn't bear to see you suffer that fate, so please, let me worry about this, ok?"
. . .
"This is gonna work, *****."
. . .
"I know it is...because I don't know what I'm gonna do if it doesn't."
. . .
"Dad, just… help me."
"I… I can't."
"Why can't you?"
"*! You don't understand. Heaven never listens! They didn't listen to me, they won't listen to you!"
"You don't know that!"
"I do!"
. . .
. . .
. . .
"He's in the wrong universe."
Shooting up from her bed with an audible gasp was Lucy Loud, a young girl with an immense interest in the supernatural, paranormal, and everything/anything related to the poetry between the lines of the occult. However, even she―a devoted fanatic of the morbid―had her limits and placed a much-needed break from the hidden horrors of everyday life once in a while. Her socially withdrawn behavior and dark tendencies when being a manic maniac of the macabre have earned her more than a few ridiculers, even those within her own family.
When it came to holding back against her tormentors, Lucy was a skilled individual, but with good reason. Lonely, insecure, and emotionally suppresive were among the many alternate adjectives to describe her to the fullest extent, for unlike some other people such as her older brother, she simply could not cope with the criticism others held against her. Yes, she can emote, she was just simply good at hiding those emotions well. Namely, the disappearance of said older brother should have rattled her to the core, and it did...internally.
Treating her older brother as nothing but a good luck charm after countless days as a bad luck jinx made her realize a few things.
It made her realize that she had been taking him for granted lately.
It made her realize that she was capable of feeling fear, alarm, and paranoia.
It made her realize that she...was a terrible sister to him.
She did not know it quite yet, but her penchant for seances and magical spells actually did pay off, just not in the way that she anticipated. She also learned that she was capable of becoming violent and hot-tempered when push came to shove, and those cases were extremely rare. Tying into the trio of realizations, she always wondered what would happen when one particularly bad day resulted in a case of pushing evolving into shoving. She always wondered when push inevitably came to shove, she lose control and hurt those she cared about...including...
Her older brother.
Heavily breathing, Lucy winced and balled her hands into fists. She did not deserve to say or think of her brother's name directly; no older brother should deserve a mere mention from a sorry excuse of a sibling.
Shaking her head, Lucy got out of bed and headed to her special place in the attic.
She needed a sign.
She needed the sign.
She needed...paint.
Any paint.
Wildly glancing around, Lucy's eyes eventually landed on a single can of red paint.
Conspiciously red paint and not the usual white.
Normally, she would see that as a bad sign, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Her desire to find her brother overriding her common sense, she lifted the cover (it had strangely been open for some time) and dipped the brush it came with inside before using said brush to paint a pentagram on the attic floor. Afterwards, she lit up seven candles before walking to the middle of the painted pentagram, crouching down on her knees, and closing her eyes.
"Please..." Lucy murmured, "Please...I just need a sign... The sign... Any sign..."
Nothing.
Nothing but a piercing silence.
An echoing silence.
Tears leaking through her eyelids, Lucy hung her head and shook her head.
"P-Please...I just need to see him. Know if he's alive..."
. . .
. . .
. . .
"If you're referring to my boss, then he's quite busy at the moment."
Her eyes shooting open, Lucy's head shot up with the same speed before a scream of fear echoed in the attic.
A scream that she recognized as her own.
Levitating before her was a Latino-American girl with red, black-tipped hair and a dark beige skin complexion; her hair appeared to be decorated with deer ears and antlers. A wide grin that displayed her sharpened yellow teeth was plastered on her face, and on her face was a pair of 1920's style sunglasses with a circular frame, black leather side cups, and blood red lenses. Her main outfit was a red pinstripe suit with a black bowtie, and levitating beside her was a combined cane/microphone contraption.
The...demon girl leaned forward and flashed her grin even wider than humanly possible...which was quite possible because she was not a human.
"You'll have to contend with me for the moment."
The demon girl continued,
"So...to what do I owe the pleasure of a visitation at this time, niñita?"
Scanning her from head to toe, Lucy's heart began to race with anxiety and panic, wondering why none of her family members seemed to notice her equally fearful scream.
"What...what are you?"
"I'm a demon,"
The figure replied,
"As if my apt appearance, sharpened fangs, and the fact that I only appeared after you performed that little ritual of yours didn't quite tip you off."
"That's impossible," Lucy muttered, "Demons aren't real. Monsters...aren't real."
Processing the words that came out of her own mouth, Lucy realized that statement was quite absurd considering the recent events.
And apparently, judging by her quizzical yet amused facial expression, the demon girl thought so, too.
"Then what am I, the unreal demon, to you if demons and monsters are actually unreal?"
Lucy struggled for an answer before the demon girl heartily laughed away her fears.
"I'm merely toying with you, pequeña querida. I know exactly what you've summoned me for."
"You do?"
"Hmm,"
The figure replied while rubbing her chin in faux contemplation,
"You wish to seek out the lost soul of a loved one."
Lucy's eyes widened beneath her pitch black hair for two different reasons. The first was that she was presumably one step closer to find her brother. The second...was that the reunion may be far different than what she had in mind.
"No, no... He...he can't be dead..."
"Niñita, just because a soul is lost doesn't necessarily mean that the person the soul inhabits is dead,"
The figure's smile became sincere, if only for a brief moment,
"Unless the physical evidence proves otherwise, but that's another sordid story. It just means...that they're lost. It's shaped like itself, don't you think?"
Lucy glanced around aimlessly, wondering what exactly was running through this demon girl's head other than the obvious.
"So..." Lucy asked carefully, "You can help me find my brother?"
"But of course!"
The figure clasped her hands together with the same wide grin,
"The method of doing so, however, is quite painful, I'm afraid."
Before Lucy could question what the process involved or protest against it, a surge of pain coursed through her veins and prompted her to fight back the whimpers of a similar caliber. The pentagram glowed beneath her as she then began to levitate along with the demon girl, who merely grinned wide.
"Don't worry, though, pequeña querida! This will only last a moment!"
Eventually, she unleashed an ear-piercing scream as she felt the spell―for a lack of a proper term―work its magic on her. Feeling as if a transformation was overwhelming, she ultimately fainted from pain overload, unaware that the process was already complete.
At that moment, a transformed Lucy fell through the pentagram and the demon girl decided to follow suit, satisfied with her work.
Still...
Decisions, decisions...
Ash to ash...
This choice I have made...
Might be just mighty rash...