The Demon Humans Call Damien
The room was cold, almost surprising that it wasn’t damp by the feeling of it. Asviel stepped through the portal opened for him, scanning the room for the human who had woken him from his nights of pleasure. His eyes locked on him, sitting in a corner. breathing heavily.
“What is your name?” Asviel asked, enforcing the scratchy sounds with a growl.
“Atlas Lamont.”
His head tilted, it had been a few decades since a human spoke to him with confidence. He already liked this one, which didn’t mean much outside of surprise. Humans were ultimately all the same. Asviel stepped closer, allowing his human form to take shape. The portal behind him closed, the only signal Atlas would get that he was willing to listen to him, and potentially pull a contract for a deal.
“What is it you are hoping to achieve with my assistance?”
He stood, around six feet tall, lean muscular build as if he had been training, curly hair, light brown skin, likely half middle eastern, he couldn’t tell for certain. Surprisingly attractive, for a man making a deal with a demon that is. Usually it was the round up of edgy teenagers trying to impress their friends and pissing themselves once Asviel emerged in front of them. If it wasn’t them, it was some pimple infested prick that spent their time jacking off to some porn model, then bitching and moaning about not getting laid online. The type that made hating women their entire perssonality. His eyes said differently. Hollow, empty, the broken remains of a man that was losing his soul and drive anyway. Early twenties? A problem with alcohol, smelt of regret and sweet earthly decay. Asviel reached out and took his chin, turning his head, letting the words unspoken flow into him.
Ah, a cop. Interesting choice in career for a human like him. Cops were usually angry, with a hatred that simmered deep within their souls, something that was rather delicious to feed on. At least what remained of them. The only hatred the man in front of him held was for himself. Curious.
A cop searching for a deal to find someone specific.
“Who is it you’re searching for?”
“Her name is Asher.”
“Former lover?”
“The woman I love’s best friend.”
Woman he loved was an interesting way to describe her. He as a human was becoming more and more interesting by the second, which may have just been the result of the decades of annoyances Asviel had been forced to be center around. Either way, he didn’t care. He was interested. The wants poured out of him from his mind, and Asviel smiled. For all the human’s flaws, his confidence and lack of fear was enticing. He would be beneficial later on, giving him what he wants now would only enforce his use down the road.
“What you’re asking for requires a rather physical change. It will be horrendously painful, it will take days. If you survive it, you will have the abilities you’re searching for, and more.”
“I’m fine with that. Why are you accepting it so easily?”
Asviel smiled, not afraid to question authority, a trait he enjoyed playing with. “Because you’ll be of use to me later. Likely sooner than you think, I have a small demon problem, and it appears we may be facing the same rodents in the near future. If you want a different form of answer, your mind is already killing you. It’s already done enough for me to reshape you, form you, to how I need you. Giving you the abilities you seek give me more control over you.”
He pulled a contract from his suit pocket, one writing itself. “You will sign in blood. Your soul is mine, and before you give me the whining that you humans are known for, you were going to end up in hell anyway,” he clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes at the man called Atlas. “Atlas Lamont, son of a mayor, full of sin and you’re already delicious at such a young age. Under my control, everything will benefit you. Once signed, you will consume my blood. The process will then begin. I will return once it is completed, either at the gates of hell or in your… cozy dwelling.”
Atlas snickered. Something Asviel considered an acceptance of his terms, even if they were vague. He pulled a fountain pen from his pocket, then took the man’s arm, dragging the edge through his flesh. He didn’t flinch or give much of a reaction, Asviel couldn’t even smell fear on him. He was ready.
The human took the pen, glanced over the contract, then signed it. Normally humans would bitch and moan about wanting to read every single line, but not this one. Asviel really liked him. Fed up with existence and had a limited amount of missions left, the man was determined and little was going to set him back. Good thing Atlas’ contract was one of the more open ones he had written. Atlas would return to him when he was ready, for all Asviel cared, Atlas could live out a normal human life, put a bullet in his brain, and join him. Until then, he was a benefit for him as well being an earth-walker.
He spotted a glass, likely for whiskey, which was Atlas’ clear drink of choice from the scent of liquor on him, then stepped closer to it. He drew a knife, cutting into his wrist and allowing the blood to flow into it until it was approaching halfway. Might be slightly overkill, but he was confident Atlas would manage. The human was determined, and usually the ones that did not survive the transition period carried doubt. This one did not.
Atlas took the glass from him, pausing to stare at ther liquid before he consumed it. Asviel took the glass from him with a smile, a second later, Atlas fell to the ground. It was begining. Asviel stepped toward the opening portal, as it closed behind him, the screams of pain sounded.
***
Asviel returned two days later to find Atlas staring in the mirror, his eyes reflecting silver. It was an unspoken understanding that it had worked, that he was the half-demon and then some he had wished to be. That he sold his soul to be. That he was now part of Asviel, a deranged version of his genetic material, like an offspring of some kind. Only this one only carried enough of his genetic pool to look like a human mutant under certain circumstances.
The painful part was now over, and he was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with the annoyance of a human’s agonized scream. If he was in Hell, there was at least unison with groups, and that sounded like Hell’s version of heaven. One human was worse than claws dragging across steel or a chalkboard.
“Get a drink, you deserve you one after that.”
“What do I need to know?”
Asviel shifted, leaning against the counter. He liked this human more with every second he spent near him. Direct and to the point, no emotional annoyances. The last human that was like this was a serial killer that was now living in Hell, and was still one of his favorite demonlings. “Your abilities will come on slowly, you’ll figure out how to use them on your own. Your human needs will decline over time, the need for food, water, sleep, all of those annoying factors of human biology. If you develop a temper, might want to get that under control. Like demons, you’ll likely be more inclined to sexual activity, fuck as many humans as you wish. You’ll be immune to any of their diseases, and you don’t need to worry about human offspring. When you make trips into Hell, you’ll learn rather quickly what demonhood is like, if you want to call it that. Other than that, that’s all you a need to know that you won’t discover on your own. Take some time to figure out everything that had changed about you.”
He stared at his hands. “I don’t feel too different.”
“In time, you will. Do what you please, I couldn’t careless what you do in oyur free time. I’ll find you when I need you. I may be in my human form, one known simply as Damien. Good luck, as if you’ll need it.”
