(GM-led) Devils In The Details
The elevator dinged an obnoxious falsetto, torturing it's well tailored occupants as they struggled to escape the tiny prison. Faust felt his needling frustration cascade into rage as the doors jammed, forcing him to hold his breath and squeeze out sideways. A sharp yank halted him, his briefcase catching on the closing doors. With a snap and a ding, it was lost to him, descending back down the 666 floors to the lobby below.
"Fucking Hell," he muttered.
Grinding his jaw and running his hands through his chestnut locks, he cooled his high brows into impassiveness. Across the polished obsidian floors and mundane cubicles, the red mountains of ice loomed in the distance. Plumes of sulfur belch from the ground casting the sprawling metropolis before them in a tartar stained ichor.
(Original art created in December 2022 by D. Christopher.)
"The deal you made with Brady, it has too many postponement clauses. It's a legal nightmare."
Faust couldn't suppress the groan tumbling from his pinched lips, glaring to his right at Heina's quick approach. Her suit clasping in her assault across the tile foyer, red heels leaving scorch marks in their wake. He turned on his heel as she reached him, cutting off her beratement and forcing her to follow him. Let her stew, he thought, I really could have gone without the slither of eels this morning. Purposely, he strode toward the conference room.
"Good morning, Heina," he called keepings his pace brisk, barely stopping to dodge the tiny underling drudes. Disgusting little vermin, he thought, watching as they scurried across the office carrying memos and coffee. .
"Don't good morning me," she replied. The tingle of flames hissed at Faust's elbow, as she hounded his steps. "We will be incapable of collecting on him for decades!"
Muttering he turned past the water coolers. "Sounds like a problem for legal."
Faust growled at being yanked for a second time in one day, and pivoted so hard Heina almost crashed against him.
Despite her abrupt stop, she speared him with a glare. Her bright eyes promising dealth by slow lapidation, a positively thrilling prospect.
"You have your sights set high, Faust, don't piss me off."
Faust had had enough of her hounding for today. The darkness pulled to him and he loomed over her, his pulse clamoring for first blood.
"He wanted the addendum, so he got the addendum," he growled. She took a step back, fear blossoming in her eyes.
"How could I say no to the return of the notorious Brady Thom to the NFL? And Heina," he paused to throw the words over his shoulder. "He won't live decades anyway, greed is hard at work and now I've got my elephant".
Faust cast his gaze forward, reaching the conference room doors, black shapes visible through their frosted glass. Muffled voices indicated the meeting had already begun. Fuck, he thought. The boss was eager to land the next big one. Schooling his features once again, he clasped the handles moving confidently across the threshold. With a smug grin he thought, it's time to hunt.
Welcome to Brimstone and Co, the up and coming soul collection agency. For thousands of years, demons have been corrupting mortals and using their souls to power the intrinsic magics within the fifth dimension known as Hell. Demons must carefully locate potential souls, souls who have the capacity to achieve infamy. The more renowned or reviled the mortal becomes the more powerful their soul will be. Beware rival demons aren't above poaching potential souls and the costs of achieving a mortals dreams must be weighed against their souls worth. Everything comes with a price, but prestige and power lie with those capable and cunning enough to delivery the most potent souls .
This is where you come in!
Brimstone is located in downtown Shaitan and is run by the ambitious Lulu Kaachu, a power-suit filled with persuasion and topped with cascading ivory locks. Her relentless drive has propelled Brimstone from a distiller of backwater souls to the new heavy contender in Hell's soul scene.
Demons come in any and all specialties. Using their unique abilities they must locate souls and initiate first contact. These souls have the potential for infamy and the wider they are known the larger your score. Barter, persuade, and haggle them into eternal damnation. The key is to convince them can never reach the potential they dream of without YOUR help.
Examples of Potential Demons:
Soul Seeker - These demons have the ability to sense and locate mortals who display the necessarily talents and vices to propel them into the collective conscious of mankind. There souls are imbued with the cerebral energy, creating super wells of mystical energy.
Negotiator - These demons fill any space with an aura of charm and charisma. Using their honey coated voices, they disarm mortals, luring them into eternal traps.
Illusionist - Using mystical energy they are capable of changing realty to suit their vision, but even small changes come at a steep price.
Fighter - These demons preventing the poaching of assets by competing corporations.
Whether you are a veteran hunter or new hire, negotiator or a soul seeker, Lulu considers you a valuable asset to the team. Work your way up the corporate ladder, go out into the hunting fields of mortal Earth and get those signatures… signatures of blood.
Welcome to the team!
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice:
Key Ability* :
*need not be magical, examples - illusions, human possession, tracking, soul analyst, fighter (watch out for rival demons), persuasion, sin specialist (uses a select sin to push the mortal to greater potential) , if you have something else in mind go for it!
Character Name: Asta
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice: Wrath
Appearance: Dark red, scaly skin with darker blotches throughout, very tall, lean, light blue almost white glowing eyes, wild blue-black hair that forms a mane around her neck and chest, silvery eland horns, lean muscle all over, four fingers on each hand ending in long black claws, long raptor legs with black tiger stripes striking through the red skin ending in three toed feet, long tail ending with a black poof like a lion's, a killer smile, but human-ish face morphs into a snouted reptilian face when enraged
Personality Type: playful, but do what I want
Position/ job/responsibilities: Relentless Recruiter
Key Ability* : Persuasion
Goals: I wanna be the very best
Secret: BIIIIIG crush on Lulu.
Character Name: Fate Alcaps
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice: Jealousy/Greed
Appearance: Patrick Bateman
Personality Type: Negotiator, Car salesman. Talent manager.
Position/ job/responsibilities: I work in the music industry. I influence crowds to affect the success or failure of our clients and their music careers.
Key Ability* : "Oppression" can change the mood of social situations from good to better, or bad to worse.
Goals: I want to get out of crowd work and into directly working with talent as a record label exec where I belong.
Secret: I fucking hate GenZ artists and their music and their fashion. It's vapid and pointless and has no soul. Any talentless hack can be a creator these days, not like in the Baroque period. Now that's what I call music!
Character Name: Lazareth
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice: Dullahan with the sin of Sloth
Appearance: Lazareth stands at 5'10" with a bulky build. His skin is an ashen gray with small, dark cracks running along the surface. He has short, unkempt black hair and dull, heavy-lidded eyes. His attire consists of a loose-fitting black suit, which he wears with the top buttons undone and his tie loosened.
Personality Type: Generally lazy and indifferent, Lazareth often appears bored and disinterested. However, when engaged in a fight, he comes alive and demonstrates a level of diligence that belies his usual demeanor. Despite maintaining his bored expression, he thoroughly enjoys these moments of action.
Position/ job/responsibilities: Lazareth is a fighter at Brimstone and Co. He acts as a bodyguard for the soul candidates as well as the devils that cannot defend themselves as readily.
Key Ability*: Lethargic Presence - Lazareths boredom seems to waft off him in a thick fog. Those who get near him end up feeling sluggish.
Goals: Lazareth is outwardly lazy, and it doesn't help that he is motivated by his birth sin. However, he is determined to find a challenge that actually brings out something other than boredom.
Secret: Unknown to most, Lazareth harbors a deep fascination with mortal art and culture. He secretly collects paintings, sculptures, and other artifacts from the mortal world, especially those that show great emotion, such as Van Gogh's paintings.
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice:
Key Ability* :
Character Name: Valentine “Val”
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice: Imp
Appearance: Valentine’s often-unseen true form is a short, slender, deathly pale young adult of indeterminate gender. They have dark eyes, feathery cropped white hair, and a literal silver tongue. Their stubby conical horns and small leathery wings are opalescent black, like an oil slick. Valentine is fond of slim-fitted suits and narrow neckties, but as is the case with their physical form, they will usually don whatever the situation calls for.
Personality Type: Charismatic troublemaker
Gender/Pronouns: Gender? I hardly know ‘er! They/Them
Position/ job/responsibilities: Technically a Negotiator, but nobody’s ever seen them negotiate. Val deceives, jokes, tempts, and annoys their targets into complying.
Key Ability: Illusion - can change their own appearance at will, usually to manipulate targets but often just as a goof.
Goals: Get fired (see Secret)
Secret: Val isn’t just a silly goofy guy - they secretly hate the business and they’re determined to cause as much trouble as they can before someone finally gives them the axe (preferably literally)
Lulu's head whipped up at the abrupt slam of the conference room door, the space empty as the door continued to reverberate in protest. Her lips creased into a thin line as she methodically rearranged the scattered papers before her.
"Val," the word fell from her lips with merciless promise.
"If you break my door, it'll be filing and storage for you all next week. With no lemon juice for your paper-cuts this time." She rolled her head to stare at the Imp over her shoulder and speared her with a dare-to-be defiant stare.
"Can't have you enjoying the experience," she continued with a sweet smile spread wide to reveal glistening fangs then turned back to the rest of her team.
They were scattered about the large U-shaped conference desk but barely filled a quarter of it. Within its center stood a high-backed chair, a monstrosity covered in black velvet, perfectly positioned to allow its occupant reign over the room. Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights covered most of the wall behind it.
"I've gotten word that a new temporal rift is opening. It's smaller than normal, which is good for us... less competition. But, there is a big prize inside."
In an effort to shake the lethargy from her limbs, Lulu rose and paced the room. Sloth demons, damn useful she thought, but she would have to get a 3rd cup of coffee after this meeting. She stopped in front of Lazareth and pushed his legs from the table, his large frame falling forward quickly, and situated herself saucily in their place.
Lulu appreciated the silence that permeated the room, you couldn't cultivate this level of focus, her team knew the stakes. She had bribed a Seer way too much mana for this tip and her silence. They had to pull this off, and soon.
"I've been told it will gateway you to 1961, but not where. Being so close to present days leaves us a lot of leftover transport mana."
With a push from the table, Lulu made her way toward her seat, trailing fingertips over the fringe of Asta's mane. The demoness practically leaned into her touch. Business first. She repeated the mantra a second time before flopping into her seat and draping her leg across the arm.
"You need to secure the mortal, initiate their soul, and seal the deal before anyone else arrives." A glass of viscous red liquor appeared in her hand and she took a sip.
"I don't need to remind you to be frugal. Illusion, compulsion, and pathokinesis will be the most mana efficient."
"Asta," Lulu turned to the negotiator, not missing the bulge of her eyes and her red cheeks turning impossibly more crimson. For a second, Lulu wondered if that color could bloom in other places. A thought for another time.
"I'm sending Bob the analyst with you. If she says it's worth it, do whatever you need to secure the soul."
With a flick of her wrist, she drained the contents of her glass and rose, swooshing her hair in a wide arc.
"Your meeting a senior negotiator in the field, are there any questions?"
The streets of Liverpool were crowded, flooded really, people brushed past in a pace that said they had nowhere to be. Fate glared up through the early morning sun, eyes drawn to the NEMS sign displayed over the storefront and back down again to a clerk busying about a large display of guitars in the window.
Rolled up under his arm is the newest issue of Mersey Beat, the musical magazine all the Beatniks are talking about. With a grimace, he unfurled it. Four youths looked up from the cover, all electric guitars and leather jackets. Fate read again Lulu's message written in elegant script below their stoic expressions.
Locate Bran Stein and get him to The Cavern. If you can secure his soul great, but we need him for the elephant hunt.
The door to the storefront jingled, Fate's eyes slid past the customer exiting, to a man in a suit behind the counter. The familiar pull of fate settled low in his belly, the hunt was on.
Fate's eyes flickered towards the man behind the counter, taking in his appearance with a critical eye. He noted the man's thin frame and balding head, his shrewd gaze calculating the possibilities of how he might be of use in his pursuit.
"Good morning," Fate said with a smooth, practiced smile. "I'm here to see Bran Stein. I was told he might be here."
The clerk looked up, his expression wary. "I'm sorry, sir, we don't give out personal information about our customers."
Fate's smile widened. "I understand your concern, but I assure you I'm not here to cause any trouble. I'm a talent manager in the music industry, and Mr. Stein has a great deal of potential. I simply want to discuss some business opportunities with him."
The clerk hesitated, then seemed to soften. "I see. Well, I suppose I could give you his contact information. But I can't guarantee that he'll be interested in meeting with you."
Fate nodded, pulling out a sleek black business card. "That's all I ask. Here's my card, in case he changes his mind. Thank you for your time."
With that, Fate turned and headed out the door, tucking the magazine under his arm once more. He knew it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted - he always did.
"Ummm sir, there was just a man here asking about a Bran Stein. I told him we don't give out customers' information, but he left his card." The clerk fidgetted in the doorway looking at his new boss, the expectation of praise clearly written on his face.
"Jesus Christ, Tim, I'm Bran Stein!" Bran yanked the card from his fingers. The black gloss paper was strangely heavy with Fate Records embossed across the front and a single phone number on the back.
Pushing past Tim, Bran trotted out toward the door hoping to catch glimpse of the stranger.
"Sir, sir!", he clasped the door just before it had time to close on a man with stunning chestnut locks. Still huffing, he extended his hand, words tumbling out.
"I'm so sorry. We just hired a new clerk. I'm Bran Stein, a talent scout and business owner. Was there something I could help you with?"
Fate turned to face Bran Stein, a pleasant smile on his lips. He noted the man's frenzied energy, but kept his own demeanor calm and collected.
"Ah, Mr. Stein. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Fate Alcaps, a talent manager with Fate Records," he said, extending his hand in greeting.
Bran took Fate's hand and shook it firmly. "Fate Alcaps? I've heard of you. You've got quite the reputation in the industry. What brings you to my store?"
Fate gestured towards the magazine tucked under his arm. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about a potential business opportunity. I saw your name mentioned in this issue of Mersey Beat, and I thought we could discuss it further over coffee, perhaps?"
Bran's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I mean, sure. That sounds great. I was just about to step out for a bit anyway. There's a coffee shop down the street that I like. We could talk there."
Fate nodded, his smile growing wider. "Perfect. Lead the way, Mr. Stein."
As they walked down the street, Fate couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He had secured his first step in his plan to move up the ranks in the music industry, and with Bran Stein by his side, he knew he was one step closer to achieving his goals.
As Lulu finished her instructions and opened the floor for questions, Lazareth idly tapped his fingers on his leg, considering the mission ahead. He would protect the asset, and his co-workers if need be, but Lulu had obtained difficult to get information. The likelihood of violence was low which cause Lazareth to feel even heavier. Well can't make the boss angry, she's spent to much on this. Decapitation might not be a great threat for Lazareth, but Lulu was creative.
With a yawn Lazareth force his limbs to move and stood up. Taking a look over his team. Stay focused, its best if no problems arise, you can always visit the fighting pits later.
He moved his listless stare over to Lulu.
"I'd like access to my weapon to be reinstated." Lazareth had lost his right to it after an accident with a previous client. His weapon, a guillotine on a chain, was sometimes unwieldy and the asset had just so happened to walk in the way It really wasn't my fault...
This woman will surely bring my end, and I will thank her after
Asta was absorbed in her lewd thoughts of Lulu, trying to focus on the tasks at hand, but when she touched her . . . Asta nearly collapsed right there. Lulu was the only being in existence that could quell the burning rage within her and make her think, yeah, you know what, I could settle down, we could get a cottage together, maybe get a puppy . . .
NEED. TO. FOCUS. SHE SAID YOUR NAME, YOU FOOL.
Friggin' Bob. What does she even know about souls worth securing with her elite trash education. Asta learned her way out in the field while Bob was fiddling around with a smart calculator or something in school. Pffft! Asta couldn't help but chuff obnoxiously, smoke coming out of her slitted nose.
Wait a minute, meeting a senior negotiator? What? Why? Asta felt a smouldering in her chest that was threatening to grow to a blaze. She stood up to her full 8 feet, her clawed hands in tight fists.
"Hey, Ba-I mean, Lulu, who is this senior negotiator and why do we need to meet him? I'm pretty sure I can handle myself out there no sweat. Come on, you know me." Asta punctuates this outburst with a not so subtle wink at Lulu. As soon as she says it, though, she wonders what lovely . . . I mean, horrible punishment Lulu might have in store for such a display . . .
Character Name: Cye'tlov (kee-et-lov)
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice: Kaijin
Appearance: 6'4. Horrifically slender, somewhat androgynous with no defining sexual traits. Small, reflective, silver scales cover their whole body with thicker, rougher patches that appear to swirl like mercury on their forearms, shoulders, and the sides of the torso. They become more like metal plate armor starting at the thighs and going down to lithe, muscled bird-like haunches ending in paws with retractable talons. Human-like hands, and even a thick tangled mane of hair grows in a very wide mohawk and reaches all the way to the ground. Just like their body, their eyes appear slivery, no distinguishable pupil/iris/sclera and are reflective. In Hell, this demon can appear reddish from the flames, on earth they might look blue and gold on a clear day, or pitch black in the shadows.
Personality Type: Coy, but seldom smiles, more socially awkward than christian at a nudist beach, but not a prude. Just weird but in a charming way that puts humans at ease...
Gender/Pronouns: enbeeee they/them
Position/ job/responsibilities: Soul Seeker, often stalks therapist who treats celebrities in Hollywood to greater influence famous people to do infamous things. See ability.
Key Ability: Whispers. Cye'tlov is the little voice that makes you doubt yourself, that tells you you are a failure, that makes your anxiety whirl, that makes you question your friends and lovers intentions, that convinces you the others are conspiring against you.
Goals: collect more souls than anyone ever has.
Secret: was once a human scientist obsessed with perfecting the human form through gene selection in already living beings, traded their soul to a demon on ebay (thought it was a joke or a scam) to get the materials needed to run try the experiment on themselves. It went horribly, their body was mostly destroyed, but in Hell, they were reborn, and the "ebay demon" claims they could be human again one day if they get enough souls... maybe.... probably not...
Lulu cocked her head to the side, savoring the rich lingering tones of her drink. Lazatheth and his strange ridiculous contraption.
Too innocently, she rose crossing until she stood before him, pressing on the table between them.
"I can't help, but remember the last time you took… what is its name again? Barb? Betty? Birdy?"
With a pointed look, she drew herself lazily across the table, her supple figure stopping too close.
The sloth demon's eyes budged, his beefy muscles tensing. She knew he could feel the scars opening, could feel them oozing and ripping, just like the first time. When he had been too careless, too lazy. Memory was such a powerful tool. Tremors began to roll along his body, along the flesh of his palms as Lulu continued to stare innocently up at him.
"How are you going to carry it around anyway?", she mewed.
"Hey, Ba-I mean, Lulu, who is this senior negotiator and why do we need to meet him? I'm pretty sure I can handle myself out there no sweat. Come on, you know me."
Asta's interruption pulled Lulu's gaze from the trembling form of Lazatheth, and she caught Asta's wink at the last second.
Interruptions. Satan, how she hated interruptions. The ire inside her grew. An interruption meant she wasn't commanding the room, and that people weren't listening.
She took in Asta's frame. It towered over the table and made the 12-foot ceilings look small.
I think I prefer her on her knees, she thought.
The thorny vines snaked slowly from the floor, climbing Asta's legs, a sensation of satin across her skin before they tighten in excruciating ecstasy.
Anticipation permeated the room, and Lulu savored the rising note of panic, as new vines clasped Asta's arms. They pulled her to a gentle repose, knees folding, arms pulled slightly behind her. The thickest creeper threaded through her main, before twisting deliciously around her throat.
"If I didn't think you could bring in this mortal, you wouldn't be going. Your talents are undeniable," she said, a quirk of her lips giving way at the licentious turn of her thoughts.
"I put Fate into play because he has expertise in the music field. And while the main act is yours, these souls can only reach their full potential with the help of another mortal. It's a fixed point of destiny. " Exasperation fringed her voice. She hated explaining herself, laying out the finer points of a plan. Perhaps dealing in riddles for the better part of a millennia had made her too cryptic.
"Fate will corrupt the manager. Put him under our influence, inhabit him if necessary, and bring him to the cavern club."
Lulu's point was punctuated by the click of the door, soft and timid. The intruder was obviously hesitant at having stumbled into the scene. Lulu growled. If there was anything she hated more than being interrupted, it was tardiness.
"You're late Cye'tlov."
Cye'tlov cringed as they heard the muffled voices from behind the door. Asta had just said... something. Even from out here, Cye'tlov could feel the menacing power bleeding off Lulu at the interruption.
Hot cock on a rock, what is she going to do to me when I walk in...?
Just then they felt their own power well up inside. The Whispers as Cye'tlov called it. Though it was hard to say if it came from Cye, or was somehow separate. They couldn't let the other demons know how to new to this they were. That this power was not unquestionably in control...
The Whispers answered "maybe you'll enjoy it..."
With a not so steady breath, Cye'tlov opened the heavy door and hesitated at the threshold.
There sat the team. Cye'tlov had just heard Lulu mention Fate, smug snake, they thought. As usual, Asta looked ready to pounce on Lulu like a lovesick locus, Lazatheth looked crestfallen or maybe tired? Cye'tlov could never tell, but that demon's damned power was already slipping over their silvery bare scales. Lethargy was seeping in, making Cye want to drop into one of the chairs.
But it was Lulu's devilish stare that kept Cye'tlov locked in place. Like an animal caught in the hunt. Val seemed to twitch off to the side, expecting, as they all were, to see what Lulu was going to do to Cye.
"I have to confess, I never thought I would be sitting across from Fate Alcaps. I'm quite familiar with the Liverpool scene, if you are looking for something specific?
Mr. Stein turned his cup for the umpteenth time, the fidgeting sent some of his coffee sloshing over the rim onto the pristine table cloth. Inky brown lines permeating in all directions.
An encouraging smile from Fate, sent him rambling again.
"Take this group for instance, just came back after a tour in Hamburg." He spun Fate's copy of Measly Beat around, Lulu's message invisible to the mortals eyes.
"The Weevils, terrible name, but not a bad sound. "
Relief washed over Lazareth as Lulu's attention shifted to Asta. Bertha... that's her name, he thought, trying to regain composure; the tension still lingered in his body regardless. It had been a mistake to bring it up so soon.
Lazareth lumbered to the side with some effort, deciding to wait there until his team was ready to depart. That was enough excitement for the moment. He slid his hand into his jacket pocket, his fingers caressing his Kris dagger. Trina will have to suffice for now., Unlike Bertha, Trina was soul-forged and possessed a mind of its own—Greed, Wrath, Ambition. Everything Lazareth lacked, this weapon desired. Trina could give Lulu a run for her money, Lazatheth mused before quickly dismissing the thought. He didn't want Trina getting any ideas.
Then the door opened to reveal Cye'tlov. This really wasn't the best day to be late
Fate leaned forward, his eyes bright with interest. "The Weevils, you say? I've heard of them. In fact, they're one of the main reasons I'm here today. I wanted to hear more about them and potentially see them in concert."
Bran looked surprised, but pleased. "Really? That's great to hear. I think they have a lot of potential, and with the right backing, they could really make a name for themselves."
Fate nodded, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. "I couldn't agree more. That's actually why I'm here. I specialize in cultivating new talent and giving them the exposure they need to succeed. My job is a bit like farming for clout, if you will, but instead of padding likes and views for social media influencers, I do it in real life, at live shows."
Bran's eyebrows rose in interest. "That sounds fascinating. How exactly do you do that?"
Fate grinned, leaning back in his seat. "Well, it's a bit of a trade secret, but let's just say that I have a knack for influencing crowds and getting them to react in certain ways. It's all about creating an atmosphere, a feeling, a sense of excitement and energy that draws people in and keeps them hooked. And that's where The Weevils come in."
He paused, taking another sip of coffee. "I'd love for you to come see them in concert with me at The Cavern. I think you'll be impressed with what I have to offer. And maybe, just maybe, we can work together to help them achieve the success they deserve."
With that, Fate knew that he was one step closer. The Weevils may not be his cup of tea, but if they could help him climb the ladder of success, he was more than willing to pretend to be a fan.
Fate could smell the hunger wafting off Stein, It left the unpleasant tinge of greed at the back of this throat. He purged the sensation with a gulp of coffee and mustered a forced smile. Stein had grown uncharacteristically silent and was staring at Fate as though caught on the cusp of his next sentence, unable to speak, unable to blink. A coil of sulfur unfurled from the doorway and Fate stiffened in response. His hair rising in hackles along his arms.
Crack. Stein wrenched his neck, a trio of pops followed, and he settled into his skin as though pulling on a wet shirt. His palms stiffened against the table, nails biting rivets into the lament finish. Glistening droplets of blood marred the irregular lines. Stein's eyes rolled back into his head and returned as ruby slits.
"Ahhhhh Fffffate," Steins voice now a gravely rumble. "Wwwwhat are youuu doing with ttthis mediocre moorrtal?"
Steins muscles loosened in tight wave from his shoulders, as the demon settled into the chair lounging his arm across the back cushion.
"Tttthese meat bags mmmuust always swwweat so much," he grumbled.
Of fucking course Metzil would be here, Fate though. It couldn't be that easy after all.
Asta knew she had pushed too far as soon as she started uttering what would surely be the last thing she'd be allowed to say at this meeting.
Maybe she'll notice the wink and dig it?
She most certainly did not, at least that's not the impression Asta got from the look she was getting from Lulu. Then she felt the creepers doing what they do, and grunted in a combination of panic and... arousal? Knowing that Lulu was doing it certainly did nothing to settle her. Then Lulu was saying words, but who knows what they even were. There was no way Asta was going to be able to focus at this moment on anything other than the thought that Lulu Kaachu was binding her. A barely perceptible mewl escaped Asta's lips and she really hoped no one was able to hear it. Her face was once again aflame with blush.
Then the door opened to reveal poor Cye. Asta couldn't help but feel jealous that this bout of attention on her was about to end knowing Lulu and her peeves.
Cye'tlov eyes drooped heavily as the wax beaded, her breathing coming in sips. She couldn't see the source, only the molten trail it left over her scales. Clinging to her every curve.
She risked a fervent glance towards Lulu. The corporate demoness would have looked bored if her eyes weren't riveted to the slow cascade along Cye'tlov shoulders.
Lulu relished the hypnotic nature of wax. It's gentle flow over the flesh, scorching torment before the inevitable cool. The way it hardened and cracked, crumbling to reveal a ruby tattoo. A vibrant webbing of torment across the skin.
Oh, how she had suffered interruption after interruption. Surely, her team was doing this on purpose. Some souls just craved the delight of punishment and she could hardly disappoint them in their quest for absolution.
But this was a dangerous thrall. She risked getting lost in their panting breaths and clenched teeth. Each hiss, moan, and succulently wrenched lip a lure.
Play time was over.
Lulu huffed a sigh, and circled Asta with all the casual demeanor of a lion stalking its prey.
"As per usual you have been requisitioned mana meters." An electronic hum filled the room and over-sized wrist watches appeared on the table before her team.
"You are to meet Bob in the lobby. She will see you to the gateway and through."
"Team," She leaned before Asta and dragged her nails along the slender serpent's neck, clasping her jaw. Lulu's thumb ghosted her imprisoned pout, then pried her lower lip free with a silent pop. Impenitence and something else Asta longed to taste raged behind her eyes as she whispered, "You are dismissed."
With a healthy dose of fear and determination, they leapt from their chairs. Bob loitered by the elevator. Her bright eyes shifting to the doors at their approach, her aversion a confession of the meetings proceedings. No one spoke as she led them down and out into the back alleys of Shaitan.
They wound their way through the city and its scattering hordes of Hamcoons.
The feral scavengers' growls hounded their steps. Abruptly, Bob stopped before an unassuming dumpster. The smell of mung bean sprouts permeated its rusted frame and boxes of cinnamon peeps littered the ground before it. Even the Hamcoons wouldn't touch those.
"Okay, big baddy your first".
Bob lifted the dumpster's lid and motioned for Larazeth to approach. A dim glimmer of opalescent light brimmed over the dumpster's edge, the only indication of the gateway within. Holding their breaths, they dive inside and into the mortal realm.