"I am the fucking King of Hell!"
I was currently indisposed inside the men's room, having what could only be described as a severe and annoyingly entertaining mental breakdown. Typical me… except this time, it was even more irritating. This meat suit, this 'Greg Veder,' was overflowing with insecurities, superhero delusions, and a flood of emotions. It almost reminded me of the time Winchester Jumbo turned me into a human blood junkie… ugh… uck… utterly disgusting.
"What should I do now?"
Frankly, I couldn't care any less. This world was just… strange. Brockton Bay didn't even begin to describe it. Sure, the nonexistence of heaven and hell was a breath of fresh air, but seriously? Capes? You would never catch me wearing one of those stupid capes.
I walked back to my classroom, my so-called best friend Sparky eagerly bombarding me with senseless quips and obscure pop culture references. Each one felt like a dagger, twisting deeper with every word I completely and perfectly understood. It hurt me more than I cared to admit. This meat suit's memories were like a curse, filling my head with trivial nonsense and forcing me to engage in mindless banter that was far beneath the King of Hell. But here I was, nodding along, playing the part of Greg Veder, the nerdy sidekick in this pathetic little world.
And then there was school—
Winslow High was a grimy pit, the kind of place that made even the King of Hell cringe. The walls were smeared with years of neglect, paint peeling off like dead skin. The hallways reeked of sweat, fear, and the stale stench of desperation. Lockers were dented and scratched, most hanging on by a thread, much like the students who passed through the halls. Graffiti covered every surface. It was a chaotic tapestry of anger, rebellion, and hopeless dreams.
The students themselves were a sorry bunch, shuffling through the days like the damned, trapped in a never-ending cycle of mediocrity and misery. Fights broke out regularly, though none of them had the flair of a proper Hellfire brawl. Teachers, too, seemed beaten down by life, their eyes hollow, their voices drained of any real passion. It was as if the entire school was waiting for something—anything—to break the monotony.
It was hell, and the irony wasn't lost on me.
Classes finally ended, much to my relief. I trudged out of the building, trying to shake off the lingering smell of despair that clung to me like cheap cologne. Sparky was still yammering on about some superhero trivia, but I barely heard him. My mind was elsewhere—on the fact that I, the former King of Hell, was about to be picked up by Greg's dad like some helpless teenager.
Sure enough, Dad was waiting in his beat-up sedan, waving at me like he hadn't just come from another mind-numbing day at a job he hated. I slid into the passenger seat, muttering a half-hearted greeting. He responded with the usual fatherly nonsense about how school went, which I answered with grunts and one-word replies. The ride home was painfully normal, a stark contrast to the chaos I was used to.
God. What have I done to deserve his hell?
When we got home, Mum was in the kitchen, dishing out dinner like it was the most important thing in the world. "How was school, honey?" she asked with a bright smile, her voice oozing with warmth.
"Same as always," I mumbled, dropping into my chair at the table. The food was actually decent, but I barely tasted it before I felt full and decided to clock off.
I dropped dead onto my bed, exhaustion washing over me like a wave of despair. Sleep claimed me quickly, and before I knew it, I was standing in a dream—though it was more vivid and unsettling than any ordinary dream.
I found myself in a dark, endless void, the kind that would've felt like home if it weren't for the fact that I wasn't alone. A figure stood before me, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. It was Greg Veder or at least some twisted representation of him. His face was a mix of confusion, fear, and anger, a reflection of all the emotions I'd been drowning in since I got trapped in this meat suit.
"Who are you? Crowley? How do I know your name?" he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "What… what's happening? Why are you in my body? Where am I?"
I stared at him, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "You're in your own head, mate," I said, crossing my arms. "Or what's left of it, anyway. I didn't ask for this, you know. It's as much of a nightmare for me as it is for you."
Greg's eyes widened, and he took a step back as if trying to distance himself from the reality of the situation. "I don't understand… how can you—how can we both be here?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "You think I've got the answers? One moment, I was giving Lucifer the royal middle finger, and the next, I'm stuck in your miserable existence. So, congratulations, Goldie. You've got front-row seats to the world's worst possession."
Greg looked down at his hands, shaking his head slowly. "This can't be real… I was just trying to live my life. Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?"
"First things first, introductions," I said, rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. "I'm Crowley, demon, and the bloody King of Hell. Or at least, I was until I got stuck in this miserable meat-suit you call a body."
Greg blinked at me, his confusion evident as he tried to process what I'd just said. For a moment, he just stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then, slowly, a look of realization and—was that admiration?—crossed his face.
"Wait… you're a demon? Like, an actual demon from Hell?" he asked, his voice a mix of fear and fascination. "So, does that mean… am I a cape now? Do I have powers?"
I was taken aback for a moment, caught off guard by the sheer absurdity of the question. "A cape?" I repeated, almost incredulously. "No, you're not a cape, whatever that even means. You're just a regular, powerless human who had the misfortune of being possessed by the former ruler of Hell. Not exactly the glamorous superpower you were hoping for, I'm afraid."
Greg's face fell, his earlier excitement fading into disappointment. "Oh… I thought maybe… I mean, if you're a demon and you're in my body, I figured that might mean I could do something cool… like, I don't know, shoot fire or control shadows or something."
I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at his naïveté. "Kid, if I could do any of that, don't you think I'd have used it by now? Trust me, being stuck in this body is as much of a downgrade for me as it is for you. Hell, it's probably worse. I have to eat, shit, sleep, and very recently— dream."
Greg sighed, looking down at his feet, clearly deflated. "So… what now? Are we just stuck like this? Forever?"
"Until I figure out a way to get out of here, yeah," I replied, my voice laced with irritation. "And believe me, I'm working on it. But until then, you're just going to have to deal with having me as your unwanted roommate."
Greg nodded slowly, still clearly overwhelmed by everything that had happened. "Okay… I guess I can handle that. Just… please don't make my life any worse than it already is."
I raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips. "No promises, kid. After all, I am a demon."
Greg's eyes suddenly lit up with a spark of excitement, and he looked at me with something that almost resembled hope. "Wait… what if we made a deal?" he asked, his voice trembling with eagerness. "Like, you know, in the stories. I give you something, and in return, you make me a superhero or give me powers. You could do that, right? I mean, you're a demon!"
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at his sudden enthusiasm. It was like watching a child ask for candy from a devil. I leaned in closer, my smirk growing wider. "So, you're thinking of making a deal with the devil, are you? How very bold of you, Goldie."
He nodded eagerly, completely oblivious to the danger he was putting himself in. "Yeah! I mean, if I have to be stuck with you, I might as well get something out of it, right? So, what do you say? You get my soul or whatever, and I get superpowers. Sounds like a fair trade to me."
I stared at him for a long moment, utterly bewildered by the sheer audacity of this kid. Did he even realize what he was offering? His soul, for crying out loud! But then again… more autonomy in this body, a little more control, could be useful for me. It was a tempting offer, even if it came from a place of pure foolishness.
"Well, I must admit, I'm impressed by your enthusiasm, Greg. Most people would be terrified at the prospect of bargaining with a demon, but here you are, practically throwing your soul at me," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "But let's be clear: this isn't some comic book fantasy. You give me your soul, and I could, theoretically, grant you certain… abilities. But you'd be giving up your humanity, and once that's gone, there's no getting it back."
Greg hesitated for a moment, doubt flickering in his eyes. "So… I'd still be me, right? Just with powers? You wouldn't, like, take over completely?"
I chuckled darkly. "Oh, you'd still be in there, somewhere. But I'd have a lot more control. You'd just have to trust that I wouldn't do anything too… untoward with your body."
He bit his lip, clearly weighing his options. "And what kind of powers could you give me?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "Depends on what you're willing to sacrifice. But you'd have to give me your full cooperation. No holding back, no second thoughts. It's all or nothing, Gregory."
He seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded, determination settling in his eyes. "Okay. Let's do it. I'll make the deal." I honestly thought for a moment that he would change his mind.
Greg's sudden resolve took me by surprise.
I raised an eyebrow, amused by his audacity. "You want to seal the deal then? You know how demons do this, right? A kiss to finalize the contract. But, lucky for you, the deal shall be made here within the dream, so I'll spare you the lip service."
Greg looked nervous, "Really? A kiss?"
I lifted my hand, ready to snap my fingers and make it all happen. But just as I was about to seal the deal, Greg hesitated, his voice breaking through with one last request. "Wait! One more thing—if we do this, I want you to do one good deed every day. Just one. It doesn't have to be big, but it has to be something that helps someone."
I froze, my fingers hovering in the air. My first instinct was to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it. Me, Crowley, the King of Hell, doing good deeds? The idea was laughable. But then again, this was just another layer of the bizarre nightmare I was living in, so why not add this to the mix?
I let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Seriously? You want me, a demon, to go around doing good deeds? Do you realize how out of character that is for me? It's like asking a shark to go vegan."
Greg didn't back down, his eyes filled with a surprising amount of determination. "That's the deal. If you want my soul, you've got to do at least one good thing every day. It's non-negotiable."
I could hardly believe the nerve of this kid. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After all, if it got me more control over this body and a step closer to getting out of this nightmare, then maybe I could stomach doing a few minor acts of kindness. Besides, it might be amusing to see how much I could twist the concept of a "good deed" to my advantage.
"Fine, fine," I grumbled, rolling my eyes dramatically. "One good deed a day, no matter how much it grates on my very demonic nature. You've got yourself a deal, Gregory."
With that, I snapped my fingers, feeling the shift in the dream world as the contract was sealed. There was no going back now—Greg had officially made a deal with the devil, and I was bound by the terms we'd set.
As the dream started to fade, I couldn't help but smirk at the thought of what lay ahead. Greg might have thought he'd outsmarted me with his little condition, but I had a few tricks up my sleeve. This was going to be one hell of an interesting ride.
