The winged git was in his classic form: a sphere of light surrounded by eye-covered rings that turned and twisted about the central blinding ball. All of this was kept afloat in the air by three wings that did not flap and instead turned slowly about the creature — the wings were made of feathered light (and more eye-balls) and were mounted somewhere behind the hovering, ocular-orbited, over-bright orb.

Me? Think: handsome guy in a suit. Pick your man-crush and make him dapper (ie: plop that hunk in a good suit), wrap a pair of dark shades over his eyes and add a little stubble if he doesn’t have some already. Got the image?

Yo.

It’sa me, man-crush. Wanna fu—

“I need your help, demon.”

The Angels voice echoed about the empty valley and bounced around the rocks and trees and rattled my damned rum-addled demonic head.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and crushed my vision with a brow-crushed clench. Hopefully it would stop my brain from bouncing around my skull. “Could you use your inside the realm of mortals voice, please?”

“Oh, sor—”

“And form. You look like a mess and it’s making me dizzy.”

The eyes on the rings and wings closed, and then the golden hoops merged and floated to the top of the orb as the light at the Angels center stretched and unfolded into a sleak and still shinning humanoid form. The wings wrapped the angels body as he descended and landed before me... barefooted but clad in a white-suit that had been pressed into impeccable and indestructible crispness.

The angels skin was a radiant golden shade, as though a mortals olive skin had been gilt from within. White hair spiralled from the creatures head and fell about at shoulder length, the chaos and order of waves and waterfalls came to my mind.

Her face holds a pair of worried eyes the shade of a glorious and golden autumn afternoon. A pretty pair of lips are pressed into a pout, puckered by whatever sour source had sent her seeking and summoning a demon.

“Demon?” A question on her lips, though worry remained welded to her miraculous mug.

“Hm?”

“You were whispering ‘hummena-hummena-hummena’ under your breath.”

“Ah. No, I just said ‘Hm’.”

“Before that, though. Is. Was it a warding incantation? To protect yourself?”

“Nah.” I scratched my chin, yawned and made a show of my hunkier stretches and flexes. Surreptitiously, of course. “Just a song stuck in my head, friend. Also, protect myself? From what?”

“I...I could smite you with His holy light, Demon.”

“Sure you could, kitten.”

The sky was blue and cloudless, but that didn’t make the lightning bolt that had blasted me hurt any less. I was flat on my back and she hadn’t moved. Pain throbbed from my every atom and my suit smoked.

“Point taken.” Inspired by my charcoaled clothing, I pulled a packet of cigarettes out of my smouldering smoking jacket, shook a stick into my lips and then lit it with a snap of my fingers. “So,” I took a drag and exhaled: “what’s the job, Kit—”

Thunder rolled in the distant empty sky. I like a bit of a frisky slap as much as the next guy, but I’ll take the hint.

“What’s the job...Angel?”

“You may call me Saliestra, Demon.”

“Kilbern, Sally.”

“Saliestra, Demon.” She leaned over and I saw her wonderful face had not changed its worried woeful expression. Zapping me had been as simple and natural as brushing away a pesky horse fly. She’d been taught not to give us demons an inch...

Rather rightly, I must admit.

But, she’d probably been told not to summon us...and yet...

“The job is this. I need you to get me into and then back out of Hell.”

“Sightseeing?” I said, still on the ground, with a smouldering smirk as my suit jacket continued to smoulder from the smiting I had received.

She was still looking down at me, but rarely met my eyes. “Not sightseeing. A...a Rescue.”

“Unseen?”

“I hope so.”

“How deep?”

“...” The Angel stood upright and looked away as a manicured hand lifted and began to tug at her bottom lip. “Mmfph mphl.”

“Pardon?” I sat up. She had started to pace and was even more beautiful when worked up. If she ever smiles I’m going to be smitten and smotten.

Saliestra showed me her wingless back, clenched her fists and lowered her head. I heard a softly muttered mantra of self assurance and then wham!

She turned, chin up and eyes wide, a creature of confidence...one that was also scared as hell: “Ninth level.”

“Fuck off.”

“What?”

“Smite me. Send me back. Don’t care. You get a pot of gold, ‘cause I will not make that deal. Fuck. Off.”

“But-but-but-but-”

“Getting an Angel down there and then back out! Unseen? Clandestine styles? No chance in my home town, Saliestra. Way-way-way outside my paygrade. Peace.” I stood brushed my knees off and subtly showed her my fine-toned arse as I brushed away any stuck grass. I turned back to her, no longer singed and back to full handsome. Jaw a little bigger. “Look. I’m sorry. Level three, maybe —maybe— four...I could possibly do that. But, nine? Nine! You’ll need someone higher up the food chain or lower down the shithead shaft.”

“If I go for a more powerful demon, this will leak and become a much bigger problem—”

“Look, you seem like a nice enough entity. I won’t sugar coat it. Hell is hell. Would not recommend. This coming from a guy who works there and has benefits. This...rescue mission...we would both end up up to our necks in an eternity of damnation the likes of which—”

“I’ll sign any contract you offer.”

“Cool, you got a pen?”

“You know you really shouldn’t talk to strangers,” I say to the little blue-eyed child before me. Based on the Chesnut pigtails and the sparkly unicorn-adorned overalls, I would assume the creature was less than a decade on this earth.

The little girl silently walks over to a rusted green bench beneath an oak tree and beckons me over by patting the seat next to her.“There is not a stranger left to me in this universe, demon,” replied the child in a voice that was young and old, new and ancient, a voice that was dripping in wrath and swathed in grace. This was no child but rather an eternal being, a guardian, seraph, celestial being, a divine messenger. It was an angel.

I never understood why some angels chose to appear to humans as a child. My assumption was that in their true form, they would strike fear into the hearts of their God’s followers rather than awe. Or maybe it was the fact that they could eat for free at most restaurants. Who am I to judge?

I, on the other hand, choose to walk this earth dressed as a thirty-year-old woman who looks just pretty enough to notice but not enough to remember. I chose dark brown hair that fell to just below my collarbones and brown eyes to compliment my olive skin.

Looking forward at the orange and brown-hued park filled with young families and old men feeding ducks by the pond, I asked the ancient child, “why is it an agent of God has summoned me today? Are things getting boring within the pearly gates?”

“The opposite,” she responds, “I have summoned you, demon, because I need your help. There is an item that must be retrieved, and I cannot do it on my own”Now, this should be interesting.“Why do you believe I would be willing to help you? Our interests are, by nature, misaligned. Why not ask another one of God’s soldiers?”

She pulls her attention from the crowded park to look up at me. “I need your assistance because the object in question can only be recovered when the forces of heaven and hell cooperate.”

I turn to look down at the cherub. “What do I benefit from this little arrangement?”Her blue eyes seem to pierce through the veil of her human form. Making me shrink back slightly. Despite her youthful appearance, she was much older than I was and likely more powerful. “You continue to enjoy the existence of this earth as it is. Heaven continues its holy pursuits, all while hell carries on corrupting humans. All will remain the same if you complete this task. If you do not, then both will cease to exist.”

I start to shiver a bit. I am unsure if it's in response to her words or the cool autumn wind. “Where are we going?”

“There is no “we” in this journey. I am an archangel my place is in heaven. You will work with another. An angel who has already accepted this task.” She explains

I looked up at the blue sky and contemplate my options.

I turn to the angel next to me and ask, “ What is it that I am seeking? What is it that can end us all?”

“The key of life,” She responds, “ Within it lies the power of ultimate creation and complete destruction. It was the tool used to create all life and was lost to us millennia ago. Some wish to use it as a tool to destroy heaven and hell and leave the earth in chaos. This cannot happen. Heaven and hell are necessary to provide balance to the universe. Without good and evil, there is no order.”

I was born in the frigid darkness of hell, and after spending millennia on this earth, I have grown to enjoy my existence here, and I have no desire for it to end.

I stand up from the bench and turn to the child. “When do I begin?”

"Oh man, you made a party and I wasn't invited until it came to bloodshed?"

A arbalest bolt whizzed right past me. I almost flinched there! Would've been a shame to show weakness when THE Raphaël called me, a little ol' baron of hell.

"Greetings to you too, Beelzebub. Usually, I would attack you on sight, however- well, I think you see why I will not do that today."

The angel turned away from the landscape of war to face the smoking-hot demon, me. I mean, both figuratively and literally. There's no AC in hell- and how would you call someone that looks 28, is dressed in a fine black three-piece suit with assorted gloves? Smoking. Only missing the cig', but to be honest, I've got my hands in a thousand vices but i'm not touching this one. As for him- is it a him? You'd think so with the commanding voice- but it lacks gender-specific features. Oh, and the formless, ball-of-light-with-eyes-on-ribbon-around-it thing? Yeah, I'll stick to the simple suit and tie. Seriously, is there fashion up there?

"You seem pensive, demon."

"I mean, why wouldn't I be?"

I took my hip flask, and downed the rest of the whiskey. I had a feeling I'd better have a buzz for what they were about to ask of me. That, and I knew what he was going to say. Here it comes...

"I thought you were informed of the situation, with the millions of flies roaming around this place, feeding on the lost sheep that are rotting down there."

I sighed, took out the bottle of hand sanitizer from the same pocket I took my hip flask, and started cleaning my hands, the movement reminiscent of a fly patiently cleaning its front legs. Meticulous, mechanical moves. At this point, it's an automatism, I'm not even doing this on purpose. It calms me down. I needed this, because that guy's voice almost gave me a headache.

"And this is why you guys should have social media. You can't rely on a book whose original printing has been lost to time, guys. My domain isn't related to the diptera order of animals; but to everything related to pride, and most importantly, parties. But hey, it's a pretty wide term, so don't you worry your pretty little heads over what that means for that battlefield down there. Speaking of this, lemme guess: because of your stupid non-interference rule, you need me to clean after you, make sure those two armies stop painting the landscape red and maybe decapitate the tyrant that started this because he had a quote on quote «revelation» from your little daddy. Did I miss anything?"

"No, you are indeed a fearful demon, to know this much from this little information."

"Yeah, yeah, good thing you paid me in advance when you summoned me, because I can't stand to hear you talking. So, where is the crowned head you want to see rolling on the floor? Oh and don't bother telling me what a righteous act I'm about to do, I'm here because I got paid."

The angel, stunned by my response, only moved slightly, and a lower angel, with a body close to a human's, pointed in the direction of the white-clad army's command center.

I unsheathed my twin swords, which, to the untrained eye, look like a pair of wings... A fly's wings.

"Alright, party crasher, coming through!"

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Asmodeus approached the summoning portal. He enjoyed being summoned as it had become a theatrical sport for him. The humans never knew what to expect, so he could do just whatever he pleased and they would think it was normal. First, he would perform his theatrics, then he would torment his summoners as was tradition by tantalizing them with their most lustful of wishes before snatching them away. This time, he intended to emerge from the pentagram as a beautiful Nymph. If he was lucky he would stumble across a human that knew of Greek Mythology and really confuse them. He flew into the summoning portal with the aim of emerging as quickly as possible so it may appear that he swooped in. All for sport.

He slowly opened his eyes, just for dramatic effect, and began to bat his eyelids softly. He had emerged in a beautiful mansion. He was taken aback for a moment and grew excited as he admired the beauty of his summoning room, he greatly enjoyed tormenting the privileged. White marble and gold crested pillars adorned the four corners of the room, mauveine curtains decorated a classical four post bed and draped the huge windows closed to darken the room. Only the light of the candles in his pentagram lit the room; but Asmodeus’s eyes were keen for darkness. Two onyx lions perched at the door like guardians of the room. The room was festooned with living orchids of every color and a shower of never-ending rose petals fell from the ceiling. A white gold harp with yellow gold strings and a familiar looking embellished horn sat next to the only other occupant in the room, who sat aloof in an oversized burgundy chair with golden tassels. Asmodeus’s next ‘play-thing’ sat casually with his legs draped over the arms of chair with his head laid back on the opposite arm, as if left unamused by Asmodeus’s grand Nymph entrance.

“Asmodeus!” exclaimed Asmodeus’s soon to be sufferer, “Asmodeus, you know your tricks do not work here, though I am quite sure your act would have been spectacular”.

Asmodeus looked down to see his unadulterated body. He found the carefully enunciated voice familiar but did not recognize it yet.

“Where am I?”, Asmodeus’s deep voice bellowed and echoed in the pristine room.

“Asmodeus, it pains me to ask for your help, but here I am with needs that only a demon can fulfill”, Asmodeus finally realized who his summoner was with the verbose language and detached tone. “I find myself in quite the quandary that I believe only your unique and limited skills may be able to resolve within a timely manner”.

“Dammit, Israfel, how dare you summon the Daemon of Lust and then not pay owed homage! Further, you will refer to me with my appointed honorific of Daemon Prince!”, Asmodeus rebuked.

“Oh, come now. Calm for your old friend. Do you not recall how you ascended to the rank of Demon”, Israfel paused, “‘Daemon’ of lust, prince of demons, and king of the first three levels of hell? Certainly, I do not need to burden myself with such archaic rites and rituals. Next you will tell me I must send you a letter by cherub and ask you politely for your presence!” continued Israfel as he attempted to reprimand Asmodeus. “No, but you would do well to remember your place and my title.” he snapped. Israfel was rarely concise except when it came to demanding deference.

“Israfel, you still have not told me where I am”, commanded Asmodeus, ignoring Israfel’s demands. Asmodeus grew tired of Israfel’s posturing.

“Well you stand in my luxurious room of course. I thought you would have figured that out by now with all the beauty and song.” Israfel responded. Had you not known better, you may mistake Israfel as the Daemon of Pride as there was nothing he enjoyed more than bragging about his possessions and doing so in the most condescending way possible. Asmodeus had unwittingly given Israfel the perfect prompt to do so. “Wasn’t my golden-stringed golden-harp playing itself enough? How about my sacred horn!? What about…”

“ENOUGH!”, roared Asmodeus.

“You are no fun. Anyways, I did not summon you to remind you of your rank and how you got it, nor did I summon you to remind you how great my life is. I summoned you because I have job for you”, relented Israfel. “By my count you still owe me.”

“I refuse to be a pawn in your games again Israfel!” argued Asmodeus.

“You will do precisely as I tell you, exactly when I tell you to do it! Remember, I gave you the first three levels of hell, and I can take them away.” Israfel raised his voice in anger for the first time in the brief encounter.

“It would be a shame if the other Archangels were to realize just how unsavory your rise to power was. They may even oust you on the next communion of the Angels!”, Asmodeus subtly threatened.

Israfel calmed. “Indeed. You will do no such thing though. We both know that if I go down, you will go down as well. In the meantime, you will do my bidding”.

Asmodeus turned his head to the side and looked off in the distance, he breathed heavily through his nostrils. The smell of sulfur began to fill the room. He knew Israfel was right. The problem was that the life of an ousted Daemon Prince was far worse than the life of an ousted Archangel. With Asmodeus’s luck Israfel would take his place as Prince of Demon’s in his fall and Asmodeus would end up a lesser demon serving Israfel.

“What is your bidding Israfel.”

"That'll be 34.97" the cashier said in a delayed monotone voice

Mark trashing his satchel "it's gotta be here somewhere"

"Hurry the f--k up fruit" this infuriating voice continued from behind him "what kind of man wears a purse"

Mark eerily turning his head towards the lady

"REPENT WH-RE" a distorted voice spoke from the newly formed mouth that replaced marks eyes

No one else could see the eyes or that even mark was looking towards her. To everyone else he seemed to be searching his satchel

"Ahh here it is - huh?" Mark looking towards the frightened women "ma'am are you okay" "anyways" Mark pays for the items and leaves

"PETRIFIED AND scared" Mark coerced to that voice

After walking home mark covered all the mirrors and any reflective surfaces looking down at this ancient parchment he aligned 5 candles with a star in a pentagon he drew blood from his palm and chanted an unknown language

"MARK" the voice repeated over and over again "COME ON MARK YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS"

"I ask from above and below free me of this parasite and make him go I ask from above or below take this thing and KILL it"

a hot air infiltrated the room taking the unlit candles and pulling them together also pulling Marks blood toward the candles

Phhgu the candles lit making a demonic face with great horns

"what do you want with me a demon lord" - "ANGEL" I spoke arrogantly

" I NEED YOUR HELP"The angel mark pleas with me" please I wrongfully got into heavens and spirits have been haunting me I- i can't catch a break"

"OH what a pity party but as an demon you want me" " an angel to help with what? You Abomination"

"I told you help me get rid of them" Mark sobs

" you fool have you not devote to christ?" " hah" this is what he does now I can't fight your spirits from you but Marc I will greet you with open arms when you arrive to he'll have been tormented by your victims" I laughed back to hell

"That's what happened grandfather" a toddlers voice broke out laughing "

Yes "he was a terrible man a k-ller and r-pist but he didn't even know who or what he did his name was never mark it was dahmer , Jeffery Dahmer"

" where is he now grand pop" the toddlers voice spoke quietly

"Im heaven being tortured by the demons"

They both laughed until the little one went to bed

"Good night Obama"

(I'm sorry if the Obama was offensive to anyone)