Destined to Rule
Deep in the bowels of Hell live some of the vilest creatures humankind will ever know. These demons are the chiefest among the lesser devils, favorites of their lord Satan. Their abilities have earned them a coveted status in the pit, but that’s all going to change.
“What’s this all about, and why do I have to be here? I was asleep.”
“Calm down, Belphegor. We know just as much as you. Satan just asked us to gather.”
The laziest minion in Hell merely scoffs at Leyak’s explanation and assumes a curled-up position on top of a nearby rock. His naps are an important part of his daily routine. They take priority. While he drools away, some of the other devilish peons talk. Everything from their preferred method of torturing victims to what they had for lunch is brought up. No one can trust a word Neshma says though, because what he cherishes most isn’t torture or food, but lies. Even Satan believes nothing that comes out of him.
Gressil ignores them all, choosing instead to build tiny people out of ashes lying around. Once he has enough of them made—he dramatically smashes them with a gleeful smile on his lips. If he could do nothing but wallow in filth for all of eternity...then he would. His playtime is suddenly cut short by his lord stomping through, kicking up dust as he does.
Oops...
“Minions! Good, you’re all here.”
“Where else would we be?”
The grumbled statement from Gressil isn’t heard because Satan has urgent news. Well, urgent to him. The king of Hell is displeased. Matters in his realm have become monotonous, and this just won’t do. He needs a change. A vacation is out of the question, unfortunately. The last time he did that, he came back to total chaos. Cerberus was running loose, chewing up everything in sight. It took weeks to get Hell back to normal. No, another gothic cruise to the Bahamas isn’t the answer.
Also bored with the idea of waiting for the apocalypse to start, Lucifer decides then and there to take his band of trusted minions topside. They were always meant to rule by his side. As the greedy one of the bunch, Ormenus is now calculating what’s at stake and how he can skew it to his benefit.
“What would we need?”
“Vessels.”
This silences the materialistic minion as he ponders who the best candidate would be. Maybe a stockbroker or a billionaire CEO. Moneillon interjects, frustration already setting in for him.
“So, just normal possession? That’s boring. I hate it.”
“You hate everything, Mo.”
“True, but wouldn’t it be better to manifest ourselves fully?”
“How?”
“Impregnate a human woman. They’ll grow our spawn and bam...us.”
Leyak stands confused. Since he holds the title as the group’s antisocial one—he has stayed away from silly matters like sex or relationships. Seeing the frown forming, Agiroth steps in as the resident pervert to whisper an explanation in his ear.
“Wha...?”
“Ugh, read that book we got you. Sheesh.”
After a few more minor details are hashed out—the demons walk behind their lord. The trip through all the layers of their home is tedious, ruining what little restraint some of them have. Huffing and puffing for most of the way, Verrine finally can’t take it anymore.
“Come on! This is taking forever.”
“Keep your pants on. I’m going.”
The impatient imp sticks his tongue out at Neshma while a scowl adorns his normally impassive face. Just for that, Belphegor slows to a snail’s pace. Known as the sloth of the group—he has no problem irritating them by taking a millennium to do anything. Verrine stands at the door with his arms crossed, waiting... waiting... waiting.
“Oh, for the love!”
His last few steps are rushed by the testy demon and they both follow everyone to the surface. Portals appear on Earth, spitting the foul spirits out onto the soil. Each one must now find a suitable vessel. Satan spurs his servants forward.
“Go!”
And thus, their journeys begin...
