666: Part 1

Hell, he had decided, was too hot for his tastes.

The redhead sat in his executive leather chair, tapping a spiked pen into the smoldering oak. He looked at his ever-slightly red tinted flesh and glared slightly at it. Being stuck as Satan's main executive body guard had its ups, and had more of its downs. Sure, he didn't get whipped--well, by the lower class scum, anyway--or he didn't have to eat the stuff they served at the shelters, and sure, he got a car... But the food still sucked. The car was still piss yellow, and a FORD. And he still got whipped.

But, that was Hell. Except today. Today was one of Hell's obvious "warm" days. The temperature had risen from a steady one-hundred twenty-six to an uneasy and just plain uncomfortable one-hundred forty-eight. Even the "big man" himself was sweating a little more than usual... Of course, he had only laughed about it.

"It makes the new humans simmer," he had said, "and I haven't had a good Newbie Soup in an eternity." The German devil shuddered. The taste of humans was only good if you knew where to taste.

Suddenly, his vision turned upward. His red-brown walls looked as if they were melting. No doubt, they probably were, made of cheap materials salvaged from the ditches... The pictures and certificates on the walls he had no cares about. They were all fake, anyway, belonging to the owner before him. A diploma claiming to have a PhD in oral torture. The redhead had always gotten a kick out of that one.

A photograph filled with seven or eight devils, all smiling with the acidic, devilish taste that demons had when they were enjoying a family picnic up in the only hill area in hades, Bunker Hell. It was only a good family spot for the fact of all the nice humans there were to eat, or kill for sport, or just sit on, or tear off their arms for back scratchers...

Humans had endless possibilities that just made him so curious... What could they handle? What could they give? What did they... Think? Thoughts usually made him curious. He loved to probe about in the heads of others, finding out secrets. Hell's secrets were not that interesting, unfortunately, due to nothing ever happening. There might have been a liberation movement once or twice that resulted in the magma pits (and a lot of gauze afterword), but... He had never found a devil--*or* human--that contained interesting thoughts.

"Aa... your Darkness," the redhead ground out, standing up. The reason for his vision- upturning stood there, arms crossing over his chest. "We're having a problem with our... Scientists," the burly devil said, grinning slightly. "And you, as my body guard, will protect me in the day of seering heat."

The german devil would have fallen to his face. "What!?" he managed to sputter, before gaining his ..."cool" again. "How am I supposed to--"

"Ask the She-Devils," Satan bemused, glaring at the flashy devil. "They'll teach you the art of the Leaf-Wave."

It was an insult, he had realized, as the demon waltzed out of his office and slammed the door shut, a silent "thwump" resonating off the magma walls. /You're nothing but his toy, Schuldich,/ he thought bitterly. He glared at the still-vibrating wood, fist clenching over the pen before it exploded all over his hand. The ink, however, was hot enough to singe his hand he stood quietly and motionless as he let the realization of burning sink into his mind. Loudly he cursed, standing up and ripping open the door.

As he tromped down the hall to the water fountain, he had to use the material of his blazer's sleeve to push the button as to not burn his precious, ivory-red skin again. The water was extremely hot, but cooler than the blasted ink, and he managed to rinse it off with a few rough scrubs of his fingers. Turning, he briskly walked back down the hall. He didn't see the demon slam into him.

Bang.

The laptop of the opposite devil slammed shut as they collided and Schuldich leaped up, a glare replacing all other emotions in the emerald eyes. A slight fang poked from his bottom lip and he snarled. "Watch the hell where you're going."

"Ex-cuse me!" the other yelled, noticably shorter than the redhead. He gripped at his computer, the small horns protruding from his deep, dark hair turning a lavicious red with anger. Midnight eyes met the gaze of the gem fields and he managed not to send this moron through the wall.

"Watch who you're *talking* to," he bit out. "I'm the second in command lead body guard of his Darkness!"

Schuldich's glare immediately snapped off. "What!? He hired *you* to work for *me*!?"

"Na--ni? What are you talking about!?"

The redhead smirked, his face becoming its usual, taunting, irritating form as his fingers clawed through his long longs, brushing over the horns. "Allow me to introduce myself, you good-for-nothing piece of ass. I'm Schuldich, the *lead* bodyguard of," his voice turned to bitter, dripping sarcasm, " 'his royal Darkness.' " He looked down at the boy, who looked dumbfounded. "And you are--"

"I'm--"

"--Nagi," Schuldich finished. "Don't bother trying to tell me information I know already."

The boy looked surprised. Extremely so. He looked up at Schuldich, fist tightening over his laptop. "How... You didn't even know who I was, and you know my..."

"That, Nagikins, is the reason I am the head bodyguard." Immediately the boy's face turned red with anger--and embarrassment.

"Don't call me that!"

"I can call you whatever I want," he replied suavely, leaning down. His lips brushed against Nagi's ear; a common "greet" in the older demon's mind. /And do whatever I want to you,/ he spoke in a thick voice to the younger's mind.

Watching the red deepen on his facial features, Schuldich stood straight and continued to his office. "*Do* watch where you're going, though, squirt," he finished, and slammed his office door shut. Nagi touched his ear and breathed deeply, amazed he managed not to get a nosebleed. He had one thing to say to himself in such a whisper that he himself didn't hear it.

"Whoa."

***

Finally, it was the sixth day of the week, and that meant... Schuldich's day off.

The blazing young devil walked down the still heated streets of Hell, his thick-bottomed shoes not sticking to the magma and forever-sticky-tar covered roads. The new inventions those devils came up nowadays were astounding.

He heard the rumbling of an engine and looked behind him to see a piss-yellow Ford come passing by him, running over a conveniently appearing skunk just as he passed.

Damn Hell and its mysterious ways!

Schuldich held his breath for a few seconds, speeding his pace up before he passed the evil rodent of death and STENCH (hey, it was Hell's mascot; the fucking things were everywhere), and leaned up against a building's wall. He didn't burn his ass, surprisingly enough, and relaxed. He ignored the 'If you loiter, I skunk you' sign hanging above him. If anybody skunked *him* they wouldn't be owning their "no loitering" sign any more. So what if demons were supposedly immortal in hell; demons could be demoted to humans! And an eternity of pain and suffering would greet them. Yay.

He listened to the screams of agony at the nearby human shelter. Serving creamed corn again. He smirked a little wider now, pleased with the agony. "Serves them right. Low-class meddlers."

As they mopily exited the shelter to get out of there, burning-hot bowls in their ruddy fingers, Schuldich scanned over every one of them and their thoughts. During and after his mental presence, each human turned to another with a confused look flashing in their eyes. He smiled to himself as he looked through each of them. Boring, boring, boring, boring.

He went back to his own weight on his feet, tuning into minds everywhere he possibly could, trying so hard to find someone who would be fun to "mess with". He had half given up on the humans, and especially the devils who thought that tying their tails (and other appendages) into knots was the latest craze. It was almost saddeningly annoying.

Schuldich found nothing. More tail tales and other rubbish that was not interesting in the least, until he stopped. A hole of humans. Five or six of them... With one with short locks, digging a hole. He dug deeper.

"That's almost interesting, if it weren't so stupid," he scoffed to himself, continuing to walk, breath coming in a slightly different manner. Skunk.

He found his nearby apartment and fiddled with the keys in his pocket before managing to unlock it, rip open the door, and slam it. He leaned all his weight against the door, sighing. He deeply took in the scent of car-fresheners covering every door handle and up against the mantle. Schuldich stood up, shivering slightly from a feeling rushing over his mind. He looked about, and found his destination: the couch.

He threw off his shoes, grabbed the stereo remote, and clicked "play". The heavy music lulled the devil to sleep, and he grumbled slightly. Another night without a decent fuck. /Another night like this and I think I'll try to commit myself to being a human again,/ he hissed, curling on the couch. Another detested thought floated into his mind... Tomorrow was the 7th day, and he'd have to work his ass off.

Stupid Satan.