Demon Lives Matter... Right?

[Centurion]

 Blood. Classically, red like the color of anger, yet also the color of love; The truest color of conflict. If only it were that simple down here. Instead, a kaleidoscope of colored ichor made this ballroom look like a kindergarten room where the unsupervised kids got into their teacher’s batch of lipstick and decided to play Picasso. It splatters the walls same as it splattered my soul, dark and crusty like week-old milk on a coffee table. My eyes scan the hellish ballroom, corpses piled high and intrigue even higher. Who could have possibly perpetrated a murder of this magnitude?

 My fascination could be mistaken as morbid, were it not for the notepad in my hand and the pencil tucked into my trilby. My interest is purely business, and I was in the business of solving crimes like this. I bore no official sanction, as what passed for government in the Underverse would never give a second glance to some scruffy old gumshoe with too much emotional baggage and his compatriots tromping around Dis looking for justice. That was a commodity in these parts, as this grisly scene was testament to.

 I am Detective Flint Maloney, ace mystery-solver and wearer of fine hats. This is not my first rodeo, and I doubt it will be my last. That was the way of the Underverse. The City of Dis, flaunting its ramshackle excuse for order, needed someone like me more than anywhere else. When something wrong is done, when a crime is perpetrated, when darkness and injustice creep into the hearts of men like a twisted Cancer with no intention of paying rent of utilities, I have to do something. It’s in my blood.  It runs red, red like the color of apples and ketchup; Both remain true staples of a simpler time. A time when people still believe in right and wrong in spite of the grey areas. Now I slough through a multicolored world, where black and white has been replaced by magic markers and those colored pencils that smell like fruit, painting a myriad rainbow of morality. I need to do something, something to turn this place around.

 Like a hedgehog enamored by the bold colors of their first carrot, a streak of violet catches my eye and drags me towards the center of the scene. Here. This was where it had started. A demoness lay there, crumpled and bloody, her face twisted into a permanent mask of horror. Her purplish blood burst out from her side across the ballroom floor and stained her Maid’s uniform. She had been struck first, with almost unbridled emotion. Almost. The initial point of impact was too jagged, it was a show of the slightest hesitance. Interesting. I take a few notes, jotting down my thoughts with a calm precision.

 Lost in my head, I don’t register the arrival of my companion until he is close enough to grimace at the slaughter before us. I glance back, face more somber than at my hamster’s funeral almost a year ago, and nod in greeting. He comes closer in order to examine the scene, his distaste more visible than my own. Unfortunately, his usually stoic expression always carried with it a sense of disgust.

 The man would win no pageants for beauty. His loyalty, however, was unparalleled. With me through thick and thin, this man had never left my side. His eyes bugged out like a sloth, long scars cutting crags in the rocky expanse of his visage like the emotional chasms between myself and my father. My partner was, and is, a good man. I trust him. We’ve known each other long enough to finish each other’s sentences.... Now I rifle through my notebook to remember his name.

 I am interrupted by a grunt from my compatriot, who motioned to gouges in the wall. Uneven, vile tears in stone and tapestry bespeak a story of graceful rage. The streaks of death were smooth and elegant. Whoever did this seems to have almost… enjoyed it. It was a disconcerting thought. To imagine that this deadly dance had brought some twisted maniac pleasure only hardens my resolve to find the perpetrator and bring them to justice. With my notebook now filled with data, I turn to my friend.

“Let’s go. I’m done here.” I slip the pencil back into the brim of my cap and tug on my trench coat.

 I pick through the slaughterhouse, trying my best to avoid the many bodies that lay strewn about like a toddler’s toys after a night with an especially irresponsible babysitter. The stench finally starts to get to me, but I push through it all and make my way for the door. The Bogart Bar and Grill, that’s where I should go. It’s a shady establishment, but one with no shortage of crooked businessmen, chatty barkeeps, and observant passerby to garner information from. All it usually takes is a free drink and some cold, hard, cash.

 I lead the way into the street, streaming igneous marring my new shoes. That’s alright, I have more at home. Flaring plumes of flame randomly light up the sky as the rank birthing pools scattered around Dis spew forth their demonic spawn. Every day more evil pours into this world, more evil than I can stop. All I can do is clear a small haven of good, like sprinkling salt into the middle of a snail highway to create a dead zone free of mucus and snail droppings. The bustling city, wrought with its demons, ghouls, spectres, undead, and other dark spawn envelops me. I hate it, but I have to blend.

 Making my way through the crowd, I chance a glance back at my comrade. Thanks to his wide berth, the man has little trouble cutting his own path. His visage, frightening as it is, does no harm to his ability to blend in. Finally, I come to the familiar neon lights of the Bogart. Outside stands Barney, the bouncer. Short nubs of horns peek out alongside his flared purple mohawk. His skin is a dark shade of blue, one he prides himself on oiling. The demon, burly and large, glances at me with distaste. However, thanks to past… agreements, he lets us pass. I enter the Bogart, steeling my will. It might be a hive of scum and villainy, but at the very least it could get us one step closer to finding justice for that girl and the many others slain in the Ballroom. I remove my hat and tuck it under my arm. Time to get to work.

[Moon Knight]

Shuffling into the Bogart, Dominik kept close to his comrade as they played metaphorical musical chairs with demons to get further into the bar. Always staying behind his very... emotional friend Dom watched him close, like all good friends do. Keeping his sunken eyes peeled Dominik observed closely around the bar searching for their target. 

Demons and monsters all shapes and sizes partied at every corner of the Bogart. Some stood or sat at the bar drowning in unholy merit and debauchery as their nicely dressed bartender drowned them in booze. Other creatures of the night sat at round tables clapping at skeletons playing smooth jazz. Any other monsters sat in various booths most minding their business as they plotted their next sinful day or drank to their melancholy. Dom's narrowed, his facial expression only giving a slight twitch, target spotted. Giving a grunt to signal Flint he pointed to the right beast they were looking for. 

Lenny Verminus a rat like being, sat by himself in a booth to the right of the bar. Mumbling to himself as he drank his poison, possibly planning something evil. Lenny was a sly creature and probably the ugliest oversized rat he saw in his life. The vile rat claimed to come from a universe where more of him exist and that the lived like kings but now he was nothing but dirt in the City of Dis. Dominik hated being anywhere around the filthy vermin but he trusted Flint's judgment and the rat well was a rat, always spilling information like a canary. Sliding into the booth in front of Lenny his nose slightly twitched and he gave a hushed sigh.
                          
"Vhat do you idiots want from me this time? I already gave you information for your last little case, go bother someone else." He said slamming the table with his claw-like hand. 

"Like a good sandwich or pizza, our hunger for justice never ends and like a curious monkey we seek for information, so rat," Flint said his fingers fumbling on his hat. 

"RAT!? How dare you say such a thing!"  Lenny lunged up from the table but flinched back as Dominki leaned in. 

"That's right we've got you just like a cat hunting for a mouse but soon learned that a dog was nearby." 

"Shut up! Vhat is it you Vant from me?"

"Have you ever watched Carrie?" He shuddered at the sound of the name.

"N- No."

"Lasura's Manor, horror was painted there like a scene from the movie and the gore was gorier than a rotten pumpkin heated up in the microwave." 

"I get the point Vhat about it?" 

"I want to know if you've seen anyone come out of there?"

Lenny gave a toothy smile. 

"As a matter a fact I hafe. A tall red-headed boy came running out of there and the last I heard was he was heading to Alexandra’s Bar & Bistro." 

Smirking Flint flipped his hat back onto his head. 

"You've done this city a favor and I guess you're not that bad of a rat." He said gesturing for Dom that it was time to leave. 

"JUST GO!"

[Ash]

Justice Alnutt was always either in the midst of trouble, or right behind it. There was nearly no in between. Mostly because she liked to keep her personal life and her private lives seperate or else she get slapped with the cuffs from the po-po herself.  As it were, she was on the running end of the law tonight. A sentry demon chased her down the cobblestone road, a red light beamed down over her and her baby; The hot pink 1970's Mercury Cougar sped down the rough roads. Justice's hair reacted to the wind whipping by, her afro bouncing to the beat of the blaring disco pounding out of her speakers and her large gold hoop rings swung violently from one side to the side.  A moment later the sentry began to send a magical spray of miniature missiles down on her and Pink Lady as it sprouted some warning in the demon language. It sounded like a cop was cussing her out as he told her to pull over and surrender peacefully, she knew better than that though.

"C'mon Suga-Pie, work it for me." She sang more than said, before turning the vehicle sharply around the cornerer. The tires screamed excitedly as her hands move over themselves to change directions, the light flashing over her many studded gold rings on her fingers. With an incredible handle on the machine she continued to flee the law. Punching the gas after clearing the building to straighten out the car and gain as much ground as she could on cobblestone.

Fires all around her sprays a warm glow over the pink paint job as it flies by. The thunderous beat of her Nu-Disco music matched her heart. The vehicle and her were one with each other. The only thing she could count on reliably down here. Her long dark, slender fingers reach up to adjust the rearview mirror, a collection of gold plated aluminium or wood plastic bracelets jingle about on her arm as she does.

At first the only thing the mirror caught was the crazy amount of hair that Justice had floating in the wind. When she was just standing there it towered over her in all its glory. It’s only enemy being a downpour of rain or a swimming pool. Rare nemesis for the likes of this place. When she finally got it to focus on the sky, however, she could see the sentry demon put-putting out from around the same corner but was at a loss for its prey.

Good.

-

Down in Downtown Dis on the same street Detective Flint Maloney and his long term friend we're shuffling towards their new destination. The good ole private investigator was calmly going through most of his notes, his dark eyes glaring down at the pages that mocked him in his attempt at remembering his companion’s name. Without warning though, he suddenly stopped and looked up. So abruptly that Domnik almost dropped his three-fifty pound weighted body on the man by toppling over. Luckily for both tomcats Dom’s center was solid.

“Do you hear that?” Flint asked, feeling the wall of muscle behind him. His head swung left, then right. “Sounds like the 70’s coming back after a few years on break to find themselves and coming up empty handed so they have to just copy wh-”

By this time the music had gotten loud enough not only for Dominik to start to hear, but for him to recognize the song, hear the purring of a familiar Pink Lady dubbed by someone they knew, see the streaming lights as they washed over the two of them, and then pick up his friend in the middle of his many monologue. They fell back aways, and he pressed his partner into the wall they’d just passed to avoid accident.

The two adult men heard the screeching over the music. It was almost comically endless as the Cougar swiped, swung, spun, hell it even did a little ballerina twirl on one tire! Then came… Well nothing. It all just stopped as suddenly as it started and they were left breathing slightly heavier in the dark. At first Dom didn’t want to move out of memories of what Miss Alnutt was capable of, if only because he didn’t want to see what kind of mess she left behind. Slowly however, they unfolded from each other and looked out.

They watched as an old companion of theirs closed the door and then prance their way. Her gold sparkly platform heels tapped against the stone to a musical beat that was beyond either of them, her one piece bright orange outfit complete with extreme large pant legs flopped and fluttered as she danced her way to them. The afro, ever present and always getting bigger each time they run into one another, bobbed about like a whimsical buoy in the harbor. Her long slender arms were bare and active, the top of her one piece suit coming over her large breast in a bikini style tie over the back of her neck and around her upper torso. She more danced than walked, her hands pointing, her elbows lifted and fell with the beat, her hips swung, her head kept nodding, and she looked happy despite the very neutral look on her thick and full sunset yellow lips. Her hair covered her eyes, but they knew she was looking right at them.

She even struck a exaggerated poses on her way to their corner, before greeting them with the smoothest honest voice. “Hey there Babycakes! Didn’t meant to scare you, yo!” She punctuated her sentence with a snap.

“Justice.” Her name escaped his lips so easily, it was like breathing.

“Yo, McGruff.” She said, shooting him with both finger guns, flashing a friendly smile. “Lay some skin on me.” She said, offering her hand for a slap of the palms. He promptly ignored her to shake her hand. You could practically hear the record scratch as her groove was cut short. Suddenly she remembered why she didn’t see them much anymore. “How’s it hanging Tall, Dark, and Scary.” She tried to revive her party.

Dominik was a growl waiting to happen, and yet in the company of Justice he cracked a smile. A faint on, mind you. He also gave her the proper greeting of letting her smack her palm against his and then formed a fist as she bumped her collection of rings against his thick knuckles. Her hand left his in a fluttering wave as she made a cheap explosion sound with her mouth. Whatever this motion was, it made her happy. That made him happy. Or at least seemed to.

“What’s up, cats?” She asked, now dancing in place, rocking her hips to her new groove. "What's got you to prowling our big and wonderful city, yo?"

It took Flint a few minutes to properly explain what had happened. Apparently, someone went to that mansion and only one guy left. This red-haired humanoid. It didn't quite ruin her mood, but she wasn't bouncing as much when they'd finished.

"Yo dawg, that's whack as heck. We can't have just any fools rollin' on in and doin' as they please. Relax, hop on in, I'll get us over to Alexander's lickety split~!" She offered, motioning over to her pretty ping topless car. "You know the rules, though. Scratch her and I'll snatch yer ear off. Ya, dig?" The two men nodded, and all three of them piled into Pink Lady before she turned revved her up to life once more. The music jumped back to life and they began to pull away. It bounced a bit itself as it did, like she was prancing just as proudly as her driver.

A moment or two later, they were pulling up on the bar in question.