by Candice Green







Candice Green


© 2019 Candice Green

All rights reserved.


Author: Candice Green

8 Bethway Dr Apt 104 Sykesville, MD 21784


ISBN: 9783965444324



"I have a story to share with you. A tale about the most unlucky of men, seven bored demons, and a contest. The luckless soul is called Jerry Kinkade and were you to look up 'loser' in the dictionary there would be an out of focus picture of this poor sap...”

A figure steps from a bar's dark interior into the hazy afternoon. The slight drizzle of rain abruptly stops, as though it feels Jerry is not worth the effort. A cold wind moans down the alley as the man shuffles by with his hands in his pockets. Jerry sighs heavily. He had enough on him for a couple of cheap draft beers, not nearly enough to dull the ache behind his eyes. He trudges toward his apartment imagining the look on his girlfriends face when she finds out he's been fired from another job. Your basic minimum wage nightmare.

“You see Jerry is the type of guy who would wander past where he lives, while pondering something, leading him to an abandoned old house on the outskirts of town, as a real tempest comes swooping in…”

The rain starts to fall, and soon turns to ice. The wind whips up around him and Jerry is ripped from his gloomy musings. He looks around, startled, unable to get his bearings at first. Lightning strikes an old oak on the other side of the street, blinding him. He catches his newsboy cap pressing it to his head, to stop it from getting stolen by the wind. Jerry runs for the porch of a dismal house whilst still trying to gather his wits, ice and wind assailing him. Once there, it becomes immediately apparent that he will not be going anywhere soon with the storm growing in intensity. Without expecting the door to actually open, he turns the rusty knob in an attempt to get out of the weather. Surprisingly, the door opens with a soft, ancient creak. He steps into the interior briefly lit by a flash of lightning, kicking the door shut behind him.

The place is only warm by comparison to the cold outside and has a smell that put one in mind of a grandma's attic in mid summer. The scent of dust and dry wood makes it obvious no one has lived here for some time. Stumbling around, Jerry tries to use the intermittent light to guide him. Eventually he finds an old candelabra in a corner with a couple of candles nearby. Snatching them up, he pulls his lighter and lights one. Force of habit kept the lighter in his pocket, though he gave up smoking a couple of years back. Using the candle to navigate, he soon finds himself in a small, dingy parlor with a fireplace. A quick glance around reveals a shattered table and chair, most likely the work of the same vandals whose artwork lined the walls. After collecting a small armload of wood, he sparks a cozy fire to life in the fireplace. Those two years in boy scouts really paid off he thinks, as he stokes the flame. The storm continues to rage outside, the walls of the old house moaning with every gust of wind. After a time, he fishes his phone from his pocket in an effort to call his girlfriend, Laura, to pick him up. He presses the power button only to find that he has forgotten to charge his phone yet again. Shoulders slumping, he sighs once more. Besides, he thinks, I’m not even sure there’s time left on my card. Removing his coat and cap, he sits down in front of the fire. He gazes into its depths as he wonders, for the thousandth time, why life always wants to drag down him.

Shadows dance on the walls around his slumped form in an almost magical performance. He is miles away, his thoughts drifting towards the past... of family. He had been happy when he was young. An only child, his mom coddled him and his father always told him there was greatness in him. At the age of twelve, everything went sideways during their annual family vacation. The joy of swimming, fishing and boating at their small cabin ended that year. Jerry had been the only survivor of a horrendous boat accident. Orphaned and alone, he was sent to live with his father's sister, Aunt Erin, and her brute of a husband. Over the next six years he would play the role of Cinderjerry. Aunt Erin and her husband, Salvadore, would drone on about how bad his life would be without them. Never once did they miss an opportunity to reiterate just how much he should appreciate all they did. All they did, Jerry snorted. All they did was bankrupt him, spending his small inheritance on whatever pleased them; tvs, entertainment systems, expensive steaks... For some reason it was the steaks that irked him the most. They did not actually starve the boy, a school might have picked up on something like that. However, by the time he turned eighteen he was beyond sick of peanut butter and jelly, dry cereal or for a special treat bologna sandwiches.

He could hardly remember the last birthday party he had with his parents and, at this point, he didn't acknowledge he had them at all.

“Such things are not for useless little orphans,” Sal used to say.

He hadn't thought of Salvadore and Erin in years. Some time ago he had heard that Sal had taken ill and was practically an invalid. It crossed his mind, at one point, to go and visit his former tormentor. Just to pinch him hard for all the times the man had pinched him for no other reason than to hear him yell. Jerry never did go of course. Under his shabby exterior he was still a nice guy, unfortunately. Often times, he felt it was the niceness that caused him so much trouble. Always getting the blame for other people's shit.

He massages his temples, Laura drifts into his mind. She was the kind of person he needed the least in his life. Always ordering him around and talking crap about him to her girlfriends, even when he was standing right there. Life had done a fine job of serving him up to her on a silver platter. Miserably, he stares at the fire. Running from his thoughts he finds himself caught in the gentle, uncaring embrace of slumber. He starts to doze, struggles against it for a moment, then ultimately gives in. He curls up with his coat for a pillow and lets the drone of the rain lull him to sleep.

“Now one might think ol’ Jerry was going to sleep out the storm and go back to his crummy life. But we’re talkin’ about Jerry. He's the kind of guy that would walk into an annex of Hell and lie down to take a nap…”

The afternoon turns to night with the storm still splitting the heavens and Jerry remains asleep. In fact, he sleeps so deeply that he never realizes that the house is changing around him. Whispers drift through the air. Jerry, had he been awake and paying attention, might even become a bit concerned.

*      *      *

At one end of purgatory, a horned figure on a large throne stares into the darkness. Lucifer, as he is known, is not a bad guy. So he cheats at Mah Jong, nobody's perfect, and he does have an important role to play in controlling the Chaos. Chaos rests behind the throne of Hell, literally. It serves as kind of an interdimensional, self-baking oven cooking up demons out of the ether. The number of -actual- demons, not damned souls or Hell's elite, has remained relatively consistent since the dawn of time. When their number does drop, however, Chaos sneezes a few new ones into existence leaving Lucifer to deal with the result.

To be fair, it's the same on the other side of the coin. Although, God does let the Archangels take over occasionally. Lucifer does not have such luxury and has learned, from experience, to always stay on his toes. Long ago there was an accident of sorts, one of those chaos buggers got loose, and it took him a millennium to fix the damage. None of that, however, will have any relevance to current events and Jerry's sad little life, which is about to be changed in so many ways.

*      *      *

Numerous dark shapes move along the walls. One of these shadows pulls itself free and drifts behind the man’s sleeping form. Soundlessly it coalesces into a lovely woman with big blue eyes and silvery blonde hair. She was the kind of woman who stopped traffic whilst walking down the street. The faint scent of honeysuckle and vanilla permeates Jerry senses, even in his slumber. She pokes Jerry but all she gets for the effort is a soft inhalation of air. She turns and signals for the rest to emerge. Several other shadows peel themselves free of the walls and become six, rather interesting if not odd looking, creatures. Another female, with raven hair and bottomless dark eyes, glances at the sleeping form and back to the first woman. Around them five men slide silently into existence. Their appearances range from young and disheveled to attractive and well dressed. Technically, among this strange gathering there is none called leader. Although, one especially well-groomed man possesses a quality any rulership would envy. Confidence, like a force of nature, exudes from his very being in waves, that compel onlookers to give him their undivided attention. This man, who calls himself Hubris, gazes down at Jerry.

“Really?” he snorts in distaste.

With this illustrious statement, Jerry awakens.



Chapter 1

What the Hell

"We need to move on. However, I should introduce myself and tell you how I came to be involved in this story at all. I am Death, capital D. The grim reaper... or whatever, and I am pulled into all this over a bet…”

"Aaaaaaaahhhh!" The sound is beginning to crack and fade as Jerry runs out of breath. He scrambles back toward the fireplace like a demented crab. Seven figures stare in surprise as Jerry nearly back peddles directly into the flame, stopping only when his hand brushes hot embers.

"Ssssssss," he hisses in pain and one of the figures bursts out laughing.

"Freyja, your new pet is trying to roast itself!"

The figure’s eyes flash green as shifting light bounces off his jade horns. Freyja sighs and crouches down near the terrified man. She makes soft and soothing sounds as she moves closer to Jerry. Around her the air is permeated with the unmistakable scent of freshly made bread.

"Calm down, we're not trying to hurt you…," looking back over her shoulder she scolds the still snickering figure, "Loki, don't frighten him further, he's already freaked out."

The two begin to squabble in a language that makes no sense to Jerry who continues to lie on the ground cradling his burnt hand. He stares wide-eyed up at the assorted group. His attention is drawn to a tall, crimson-eyed man who suddenly growls, "I don't know about you lot but I can't take this decor a moment longer."

Jerry manages not to scream as the room goes fuzzy for a moment. When it returns in sharp focus the dusty room has been transformed into a proper parlor. The newly materialized, plush carpet and beautiful furniture make it a far more comfortable space. One of the others, a well dressed and portly man with a cheerful smile, walks over to a nearby table that materialized with the rest of the furnishings. Nonchalantly, he waves a pendant resembling a ham made of gold. Jerry watches, now somewhat fascinated, as a fantastic selection of tasty looking delicacies appear across the table. The husky fellow nods toward a disheveled ‘man’, with asian features reclining in an old lazy boy chair, and points to the table where glasses stand empty. Without bothering to answer, the reclining ‘man’ simply shrugs the other off. His coal black hair and smiling brown eyes do little to distract Jerry’s attention from the polished ivory tusks protruding from his jaw like an orc from some fantasy game. Watching the exchange from the side of Freyja, the raven haired ‘woman’ rolls her eyes exaggeratedly and opens her mouth to snarl at the orc.


Suddenly the glasses are filled, Jerry finds himself sitting on a plush ottoman and everyone is quietly peering at the red-eyed figure that had first spoken. He is now ensconced in a red velvet, high backed chair. Lowering his hand he glares at the confused man through half-slit eyes.

"So Freyja dear why am I looking at this scruffy human in my happy place?" Jerry manages to be annoyed at being called "scruffy" but takes the opportunity to try and process the events unfolding.

"I don't know Hubris, Loki tried to scare him to death before I had a chance to say anything," Freyja sticks her tongue out and blows razzberries at Loki, blue eyes sparkling. She turns back to Jerry and chirps, "Hey toots where'd you come from?"

Jerry half smiles as he gazes into Freyja's eyes. His brain tries to absorb everything going on around him whilst also trying to reconcile the fact that this woman had small, cute, horns made of rose quartz attached to her head. With conscious effort he was starting to focus on the people in the room. Each one is sporting peculiar types of dress and, more importantly, their heads were all topped with horns except, for Mr. Tusks in the recliner. Jerry stands slowly with his hand outstretched to Freyja.

"Hello," he begins, "My name’s Jerry Kinkade and I'm sorry to intrude, I was chased in by the storm."

Bemused, she shakes Jerry's hand with a giggle, "I'm Freyja, I'm the demon of Lust, in fact, we’re all demons of one thing or another. Go on,” she glances around at the others, “Introduce yourselves, you’re all being quite rude."

The disheveled, tusked demon glances up from his Gameboy, "I'm Aergis, Demon of Sloth. You play?” He shakes the handheld device at the human but before he can answer the demon shrugs, “Yea I’m more of a console guy myself. These games are the best things mortal minds have ever conceived…," at which point he resumes playing and ignores the rest of the group. The dark-skinned female with black eyes speaks up next.

"I am Sekhmet, I am Wrath," She brandishes a sword intimidatingly. The blade glows as if the metal is still molten and intense heat radiates from it. Jerry takes note that no two of these demons have the same type of horns. Sekhmet’s, for example, swept back ending in razor-sharp points resembling those of a gazelle from Africa. The well dressed, portly man feasting at the table pauses and smiles.

"I am Bacchus Demon of Gluttony," he chuckles, apparently bemused. Rams horns adorn his head, lavishly decorated with gold and jewels that flash in the candlelight. From the darkened corner an ebony-skinned man, with beautiful golden horns and eyes to match, steps into the light.

"Leth. Greed," he examines Jerry appraisingly. From the other side, a wicked looking man in his late thirties casually strolls.

"Im Loki, envy... and I still think we should eat you," He punctuates the statement with a, slightly too toothy, grin. Displayed on his brow are a set of magnificent jade horns, styled like the comic book villain that shares his name. Jerry shivers a bit and glances back to the figure in the chair who is now smoking a pipe. He feels the demon’s eyes evaluating him.

"I am Hubris, the Demon of Pride,” more so than the others, the way Hubris says Demon makes Jerry believe the word is more of a title to these ‘people’ than merely what they are. The Demon’s horns appear to be carved from obsidian and tipped with gold for effect. Jerry thinks feverishly, desperately trying to make sense of his predicament.

"So are you like… the deadly sins? Like, -THE- deadly sins or just demons named after them?"

The first coherent thought in his head spills out of his mouth. It already felt like a dumb question but honestly he is not sure what is truly happening and it all has a rather dream-like quality. I am asking a group of demons…. from hell.... about their names… and we’re in their… parlor?

"Does it really matter?" Hubris laughs. Jerry agrees, "I guess not if you're going eat me anyway."

For a moment the nether creatures exchange glances and burst out laughing, all except for Sekhmet who grins slightly. Bacchus stares at the feast before him and then back to Jerry, "EAT YOU?" he roars with laughter anew, “We don't even know you!" At this, Sekhmet makes a small noise, very nearly a chuckle.

"Well you're a first, mortal. Never has anyone practically asked me to eat them." Loki sneers, "Hubris, it seems like you have some new competition for the most-swelled head award. Mortal, we have access to every delicacy known and unknown to humanity. Why in the nine gates of hell would you even be on the menu!"

Jerry scuffs his shoe on the ground and then squeaks, "I'm not scruffy either..." His eyes widen as he immediately realizes his brain has given up on understanding and has instead started tossing out any coherent thought from his lips. The laughter stops abruptly. Hubris stalks over to Jerry, circling him like a tailor checking the fit of a suit. The demon stops briefly to stare into his eyes.

"I don't have much to work with here..." he mumbles. At this distance it was obvious that Jerry was only slightly taller than the 6'2" demon. Hubris was looking at him thoughtfully, "Actually, I think there are possibilities..." he mutters to himself. He continues to fuss, "Good height, decent shape..." During this time Jerry is able to better observe the demon examining him. Aside from the horns it was his eyes that spoke to his demonic nature. Truly they are red and black. Not a ‘bad allergy’ kind of red, the iris itself was like a perfect ruby ring. They match his attire impeccably. Still mumbling to himself, Hubris pulls out a small diamond mirror.

"I like your eyes, the eyes can stay...." he trails off as he draws out a small glowing sphere, about the size of a pearl, and tosses it at Jerry. With so many thoughts ricocheting around in his head, like a bouncy house full of caffeinated squirrels, his reaction time is all but nonexistent and the pearl hits him dead on. He feels something flow down him like a whisper enveloping his body. He catches his reflection in a parlor mirror. Gone are his jeans and t-shirt and in their place is a fine navy suit with a tie and pocket square that matches his eye color. His ratty newsboy cap was gone as well and he now looked the picture of a well dressed, successful man. Jerry adjusts his tie a little and smiles.

"Well now he's good enough to eat Hubris, you did a fine job." Loki jokes with his usual, evil grin on his face. Jerry glances at the demon of Envy with a wry smile and answers, "Oh come on don't be jealous," immediately slapping his hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure where that retort came from. Loki shoots him a demon powered look of disdain, sharp enough to kill, and starts to move towards him.

Enough Loki." Hubris snaps, turning back to Jerry.

"Now where were we. Ah yes, I was making some cosmetic changes to our new friend."

"Listen guys... I'm sorry I barged in uninvited. I can leave now, no harm done." Jerry manages to say without noticing the Demon of pride’s eyes narrowing. Quickly, he moves towards the door desperate to put this experience behind him.

"Can you now?" The question feels as if it has an edge to it. Jerry stands in the doorway. Outside there is nothing; no trees or sidewalks, no storm or even sky, just a whole lot of empty.

"What the fuck!? Where is everything?" Jerry abruptly turns on his heel, afraid he might end up joining the void.

Hubris chuckles, "Don't worry everything is right where you left it. There are hundreds of portals around the world serving as entry or exit for hell's minions doing their jobs. Over time an entrance or two have been forgotten, this house for example, where we come to relax. This place specifically rests between your home and ours. Since the twentieth century started, humanity has become quite ingenious at sinning so we mostly just sit back and collect souls anymore."

"Tell me about it." Leth was looking irritated, "I don't have anything left to do with you humans. You’re already so greedy the mere mention of a hidden secret or longshot at wealth will spur your kind to kill or be killed. Greed was meant to be a trap but it used to at least take some actual bait to catch something," with a huff, the Demon of greed strolls over to the table full of food and starts to load a plate.

"I'm not too concerned. Less work to do is fine by me," Sloth chimes in. He has been joined by several other ‘people’, whom Jerry can only assume are also demons, all wrapped up playing a survival type console game on a huge television.

"Oh great the Sloth pack is here!” Loki shouts, I better grab something to eat before they realize there is food," he rolls his eyes as a couple of the pack are already helping themselves.

Having the shittiest luck in the world was one thing but Jerry was a rather smart man. He quickly decides that cowering and acting like an idiot would not work for long in this current situation. Hubris could tell the man had made some kind of decision by the look on his face and the set of his jaw. The Demon of pride brightens up a little.

"I’ve been trying to decide what to do with you..." Jerry was wondering the same, Hubris continues, "We cannot let you go, as none of us present have the power to make you forget this encounter, and killing you would be a waste." He looks around at the others.

They've been bitching about how bored they are and it has been forever since we had a game of Fall from Grace’, especially with someone who doesn't owe us anything." Jerry thought of himself as a decent guy, helping out others when he can. That part of him his girlfriend loathed more than the rest as it didn't put anything in her own pocket.

"What is Fall from Grace?" Jerry asks.

"We try to corrupt you with our many tricks and the one who causes the most harm without killing you wins.” Jerry was somewhat surprised by the revelation. Feels a little too straightforward, he thinks. Hubris explains, Loki killed the last one accidentally so he was disqualified and we had to get Death involved, a terrible mess. Therefore, I believe a fresh game would be in order."

He moves Jerry over to the refreshment table who then picks up a plate. Jerry mulls over all that he’s heard for a moment, "I guess I'd agree with a lot of that, about us humans I mean. We do not tend to play well with others and most people I’ve known have been pretty shallow"

Sekhmet, the dark to Freyja’s light, shoots a glance at Jerry. Her black eyes flash as she says, "You seem to be smart for a human, so many mortals fail to see the flaws in your world. So what do they call you again?"

For a moment he became lost in her eyes that drew him in like an endless nights sky, "I'm Jerry Kinkade, under any other circumstance I'd be fascinated by all of you... So is there any way to get out of this?" Jerry looks dejected.

"Sorry mortal, we do love our games," She answers, leaving little room for negotiation. At this point, Aergis and his band of damned souls burst into a cheer. The sound of which threatens to make Jerry's blood freeze until he realizes they are cheering at the game, having apparently won the round.

"Go get something to eat Jerry, this is going to be a long night." Jerry gives Hubris a questioning look and replies, "I remember reading something about not eating when you're in hell."

Hubris leans forward "That is Hades Jerry. We are not in that reality and this place is just an annex, with no real power to affect things like that."

Unable to fight his hunger pangs, he decides to accept what he’s been told. There is everything from various meat dishes to cinnamon rolls, all of which smell and look delicious. Jerry starts placing a few items on a plate until he comes to one section where nothing offered seems familiar at all.

"Those are not from your realm mortal, be careful. They won't necessarily kill you, but that one on the plate in front of you will give you a case of the shits so bad you’ll pray for it," Bacchus then points to an unusual looking flower that Jerry had assumed was part of the decorations.

"This is called Virgins flower’. It is light, sweet and all the rage. I think you will like it."

Taking the advice of the Demon of gluttony he picks up the beautiful, multicolored flower and set it on his plate. Closer inspection reveals, despite its appearance, that it isn’t a flower at all but a pastry made of impossibly thin layers of dough. He finishes picking up a few more recognizable items and a stein of beer then sits on the couch next to Hubris's chair.

"I have to admit Jerry Kinkade you are handling this well," Jerry shrugs at him while he gets settled and picks up one of the more familiar looking treats.

"The outside is doing better than my mind but I have seen enough horror movies to know better than to try and fight this shit.

Hubris gives Jerry a wry smile, "How practical! If more mortals thought that way there would be far fewer screams. So you understand the situation. I know it's absolutely the worst luck but here you are. It is like everything in your life went to shit when your parents died, you drew one of the crappiest cards in life and even the smallest touch of luck would have changed your destiny."

Jerry watches everyone around the room mingling. You could almost pretend it was a normal gathering, figures standing around chatting as they enjoy the refreshments. Hubris snaps his fingers and one of the creatures with Aergis peels off the group to come over. This one had an unruly mop of hair and small horns as well as tusks. Hubris merely waves him off with instructions to make him a plate of food.

"Hubris? Who are they, more demons?"

Hubris takes the plate and stein then dismisses the creature, who shoots Jerry a smile that was tinged with sadness. The Demon of pride had started to eat, pausing he replies, "No, they are what made Sloth lazier than anyone thought possible. They are the damned souls of gamers. Introducing him to videos games was the worst idea. Titles are important in Hell, excluding Sloth's gang, we are all Demons with a capital D and we can spend a lot more time in the mortal realm than the others. Next are little d demons that spend almost all of their time as Hell's lackeys, doing the menial tasks. Then there are the damned souls, like Sloths companions, they need his aura in order to stay outside of Hell thus they cannot operate without his influence. Of course, you have the upper level held by Lucifer's commandos and there's the big guy himself."

Jerry decides to try the flower pastry, which disappears on his tongue with an explosion of flavor; vanilla, cinnamon and a few he can't quite place. The pastry was like a panoramic view made of food. Jerry couldn't help but smile, closing his eyes to relish the flavor.

"I've never tasted anything like this before," he states.

"That recipe existed before the little family squabble got Lucifer booted from Heaven. Bacchus made a bargain to trade some of our recipes to the angels so they can enjoy them. He always makes sure to send a big gift box to Lucifer, being of the belief that they are why he lets us hang out here. Finish your drink and let's get this game rolling." Jerry sighs and finishes his drink, "What happens to me if I win?" Loki snarls at him from across the room, "Never going to happen, human. Never has and never will." he grins flashing small fangs.

"Enough Loki." Hubris comments as if by reflex. Freyja sits down next to Jerry on the couch and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, reminiscent of the flower pastry, permeates the air. He gazes into Freyja's bright blue eyes.

"Is that you?" he asks, "I remember smelling fresh bread earlier, it felt...comfortable."

"She stinks." Loki interjects.

"Fuck off Loki." The aroma of sulfur momentarily scents the air, "I'm sorry Jerry, he never lets up," Freyja replies, sounding annoyed. The scent of roses fills the air replacing the harsher perfume.

"When Lucifer refined me from the Chaos he incorporated the whole aroma thing because some of the best or worst memories can be triggered by smell. I can control it for the most part but sometimes emotions can interfere."

"Like I said, she stinks." Loki has moved closer to the couch, sitting on the arm next to Freyja. He fiddles with a jade snake pendant he wears around his neck.

"Remember human, we are all demons and you shouldn't let a sweet smelling, blue-eyed succubus make you forget that"

Jerry ponders that for a moment, "Is that why you don't have a pendant Freyja? Most of the others do, except Hubris, I think his is the mirror."

Shocked glances bounce around the room like a golf ball in a tiled bathroom. Hubris appears noticeably surprised, "Well now, you are different from your peers aren't you? no one has ever made that observation before." Hubris drums his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Jerry, you are more than you appear to be and you have been reasonable for your kind so I'll answer that. These trinkets are like batteries or like the ‘horcuxes’ in those books by that dull british woman, about the magical kids or something, but instead of storing souls, since as Demons we don't have souls, it stores a magical charge that builds as long as it remains in contact with our bodies. We can spend it in pieces, like the pearl I used on you or to make a snack table. We can also use it to make ourselves more powerful. Freyja, however, is a succubus that Lucifer engineered very carefully. Her scents, among other things, recharge at a much faster rate than our powers do so she needs no trinkets."

The other demons, besides Aergis's gang, have gathered and sit down. Jerry surveys the group, "So I guess this is it, how do you start?"

The Demon of wrath was confused, "You want to start? Why? It would mean your ordeal begins."

Jerry already resigned himself to his fate, "You have told me my case is hopeless so why make this go on any longer then I need to."

Loki watches Jerry with a bemused expression, "You’re either brave or stupid. I'm going with stupid."

Hubris rolls his eyes, "We'll draw lots in a moment, I need to procure a referee first," a collective groan releases from the gathered. It was Jerry's turn to be baffled, "A referee?"

Hubris nods, "We need a neutral party to hold the bets and make calls for rule violations etcetera. We demons love to cheat, obviously, so we need an official. My usual choice is Death, he's a trustworthy guy and as one of the few true immortals he often gets called to referee, because he is impartial."

Hubris pulls out his mirror and taps on it. At first there is nothing reflected but the ceiling. Then an older man wanders into view, he has blue eyes and a head of dirty blonde hair and a grey peppered goatee. He picks up the hand mirror and adjusts his hooded cloak bathrobe, taking a moment to flash the fact that he is wearing pink bunny slippers. The old man starts pouring dark coffee into a mug, glancing at his newspaper as he brushes the mirror.

"Hello Hubris, to what do I owe this call."

We need a Ref."

The figure glares at Hubris visibly annoyed, "I thought I told you that I was done with you lot."

"Oh come on Thane surely you could use a little excitement?" The figure groans then replies to the mirror, "Fine. But this better not be another cluster fuck. give me ten minutes…”



Chapter 2

Let the Games Begin

"Yep that is me, Death also known as Thanatos or Thane, and this is when I joined in this little fiasco. Creatures like demons and angels, for whatever reason, always need an impartial judge for their little games… Well mostly it’s because they do not trust each other. Hey I don't get it myself, but like many lesser creatures, they can be petty. My own history as Death is rather convoluted. The short version is I popped into existence the first time something had to die and I've been here ever since. Even Lucifer and Steve are unable to effect any real changes in my bailiwick. Right... you may wonder who Steve is, God likes to change it up sometimes so he's currently going by Steve. Now back to the story..."

Death walks into the wall, on the other side of the mirror, and walks out of the wall next to the snack table. Jerry watchess.The cloaked entitys, kesssserAss*a.Aai