“Hey! Get up!” The disturbance quiets for only a moment before it rings loud in his ear again, dragging him out of a comfortable sleep. “Get up! Get up, I swear to fuck, Jungkook! You really need to get up! I’m not kidding! It’s Lucy!”
Lucy. Jungkook smiles to himself in his fuzzy, half-awake state. Lucy. He loved Lucy. Lucy was everything; a creator, a destroyer, a lover, a hater, a demon, a god.
“I don’t know what you did but it’s bad. I think this is it, Kook. I think you’re gone. Lucy is on a rampage.” In the distance a deafening roar makes Jungkook curl into a ball to cover his ears. “You’d best make a run for it.”
Jungkook nods slowly and tumbles onto the floor as the world shakes again. He pulls himself to his feet, tail swishing around his ankles and starts to proceed down the corridor, out of his favorite room with the big pit of fire that he spent so much time sleeping next to. He was sure that was what had upset Lucy again, the fact that he was slacking in his duties. He pushes past servants and decrepit humanoids as panic grows in his bones. The hallway is dark, lit only by occasional flashes of fire from the Pit, but the dark isn’t a problem for Jungkook. He navigates the maze with ease, steps progressing from a drunken wobble to a full run.
He rounds the corner that will take him to the surface clouds where he can hide until Lucy’s anger fades and his face collides with the unmovable chest of the devil, his master. Terror courses through his veins at the rage plainly visible in Lucy’s features. His eyes are dark and narrowed, his teeth are bared and his hands clawed into fists. He grabs Jungkook by the horn before he can even think of running.
“You. I am tired of you shirking your duties, you lazy little fuck. It’s time you learned what it is to be without my mercy.” Lucy spits the words into his face, paying no mind to Jungkook’s pleas. He drags the young demon by his horns up to the surface clouds, currently brewing with a strong storm. Lesser demons and servants start to emerge from the folds in the grey clouds, the scowls of higher demons visible between them. They watch in silence as Lucy drags a struggling Jungkook to the edge of the farthest cloud peak and pushes his face over the edge. “Gaze upon the pitiful masses of which you will become. Feel weakness at the hands of the powerful,” Lucy lifts him above the clouds with ease, grabbing the base of one fluttering wing, “Feel pain at the hands of your master whom you have betrayed.” Jungkook screams as his wing is ripped from his flesh, blood pouring out of the wound and coloring the clouds red. Lucy grabs the base of the other wing and pulls. “Feel terror as you fall.” He says, tossing a dazed and agonized Jungkook over the edge of the cloud.
Jungkook watches the stormy clouds of Hell fade as he hurtles through the air, the face of Lucy, contorted in rage, burning itself behind his eyelids. His body is in flames; the fire from his wounds and the scorching heat of his travel through the lower atmosphere. Tears and flame and blood float above him as he tumbles down, down, down to the land of the living. His broken body slams into the hard ground like a meteor, force enough to turn a human body to dust. But Jungkook is no human; he will not die of mortal inflicted wounds, starvation or the slow decay of time. Oh no, he will rot in the mortal realm, powerless, until some demon up above has mercy on him, but he doubts that mercy will come any time soon.
When Jungkook wakes he finds himself being dragged, a cold metal ring around his neck and unnaturally smooth ground under his limp form. The world is grey and hazy, dim from his lack of consciousness. Loud, grating sounds echo around him, hushed voices and muted footsteps. For a moment Jungkook doesn’t know where he is, and then the suffocating smell of Christy fills his nostrils. How ironic for him to land on church grounds, how fucking ironic.
The cell the priests who serve Christy put him in is small and damp. At first they don’t touch him, merely stab at him with forks and knives and beat him with sticks. Little do they know his demon skin is too thick for such pathetic attacks. He can manage a lifetime of this if he really wanted to. The spit weak insults at him, throwing water from shiny canisters at him and holding wooden crosses up to the bars. Jungkook says nothing, reveling in the fact that these humans are fucking pitiful enough to think that they are doing him harm, that he is in any way weakened by their actions, to think that Christy had any real power. The gashes on his back do not heal, they bleed through all the hours of the day creating puddles on the stone floor. The priests leave him alone at night, coming back in the morning to poke at him some more. The trouble comes when one of the fat ones that he has come to recognize as Reverend Thomas waddles down the steps to the basement where he is being kept, holding a silvered cross, the book of lies and more metal rings.
The book of lies will not hurt him but the silvered cross certainly will. Jungkook smirks as the reverend sits heavily in a folding chair in front of his prison, tail stirring beside his body. The fat man is dressed in robes and a dumb little collar that Jungkook wishes he had the ability to set ablaze. Reverend Thomas reads from the book for a while, occasionally glancing up to run his eyes over the demon’s body, pausing on his cock and thick thighs.
“What is your name, foul beast?” The reverend asks, his upper lip sweating. Jungkook grins but doesn’t respond. “Tell me your name!” The fat man hauls himself off the chair and strikes Jungkook on the arm with the cross. His skin splits, drops of blood running in rivulets down to his wrist and plopping onto the floor. Jungkook brings the injury up to his face; it’s not deep but it hurts. A heated rage erupts within him and he lunges at the cell bars, teeth bared, climbing them so that he can stare down at the pathetic human. Thomas stabs one point of the cross into his leg and Jungkook drops to the floor, snarling. The human manages to get the rings around Jungkook’s wrists, locked together by a thick chain, after puncturing both leg muscles and bashing him in the temple. The cross had clanged off his curled ram horn on the first blow, the second being much more successful. Dazedly, Jungkook tries to crawl away but there’s no getting away now. Hot flesh is jammed into his ass suddenly and he chokes, trying to call out to his brothers and sisters even when he knows no one will answer. He struggles but each strike of the cross against his shoulders and skull make things dim and slow.
“Pathetic!” Jungkook screams as the reverend fucks into him dry. “Where is your pathetic god?! Where is she?! I watched my master fuck her. That pink cunt on display for all of Hell to see. Is that your benevolent god?! I will set fire to your fucked establishment, burn it to the ground the way it belongs!! You are nothing.” Jungkook chokes on a sob as his flesh rips, the reverend bringing the cross down on the place where his wings used to be. “Master will enjoy torturing you in the Pit and when he’s done with you then it’s my turn and you’ll wish you had a real god to pray to.”
The reverend cums inside Jungkook’s bloody hole and hurriedly locks the cell again, sweating profusely. There’s a smile on his face that a demon knows only too well as the face of evil, but Christy harbors evil in a different way than Lucy does. Evil under Christy is something Jungkook will become very familiar with as he rots in the church basement cell. Every morning the reverend comes back to fuck him, always beating him to near unconsciousness with the silver cross. It starts as just one but soon unfamiliar faces visit the cell, taking the cross and sticking their disgusting cocks into Jungkook’s hole as he pleads to be left alone.
Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and months turn into years but the rape never stops and Jungkook refuses to give in. He will not cave to these accursed humans and their deplorable minds. He will show Lucy what he’s really made of. His brothers and sisters may not give a shit about him but he didn’t fucking care. Why should he? He could survive down he if he really wanted to. These disgusting, deplorable creatures were incapable of doing him any real harm. He just didn’t like being penetrated by lesser beings as if they were above him when he could crush their fucking skulls with one swing. It was demeaning and humiliating and nauseating, but he could live with it. He’d lived through things much worse than this mild discomfort.
He’s weak from the absence of Lucy and his brothers and sisters, unable to fight back for long before the cuts from the cross rendered him limp and pliable. The wounds on his back pour blood with every movement while the ones inflicted by the cross slowly heal over the course of several minutes while the priests fuck him, yanking hard on the short chain holding his wrists behind his back. His tail has been tied to his thigh so that he can no longer whip the Christy worshippers when they get too close. Over time Jungkook grows bored, the abuse is nothing more than aggravating and annoying at this point. He’s been down here for years, the priests’ dirty little secret that they visit between services, painting his back with cum and poking at the agonizing wounds on his shoulders with eager smiles. Jungkook can feel something growing inside him, a deep and infernal rage that he was sure would be enough to give him his old power for long enough to break free and torch the place. But he was going to make fucking sure that the Christy worshippers, the reverend especially, knew their place, which was below him. He would fuck them and choke them with their own severed cocks and rip the skin from their flesh and pull out their eyes to leave them dangling by their fucking nerves, swinging like red pendants on their faces. Fuck did he have plans for them. All of them. Every single fucking one of them.
Jungkook growls lowly as reverend Thomas lumbers down the stairs, his massive gut poking out under his robes. He’s sweating by the time he reaches the bottom step, liquid glistening on his upper lip and across his slightly wrinkled forehead. He fumbles for the set of keys that will open the cell door, cursing when he can’t seem to find it. Thomas fiddles with the keys for a good while until he unearths the little silver key that will open the lock. The cellar door bangs open at the top of the stairs, another one of his cronies stepping down quickly.
“The contractor is here.” He says, casting an interested look at the demon tied up in the cell.
“Finally.” Thomas turns back to Jungkook, meeting his fiery glare with a gaze of his own evil, “I’ll be back for you later.” He bangs on the bars suddenly but Jungkook doesn’t flinch. “Tch.” The reverend seems unhappy with his lack of response and waddles away quickly. Jungkook sits in the dark, smelling the green slime as it snails slowly down the walls, making the stone wet and slippery. Moss grows in one corner and rust eats away at the cell bars. Upstair Jungkook can hear conversation if he listens hard enough. There’s a back and forth between the reverend, two other priests who fuck Jungkook regularly and a strange, new voice that he’s never heard before. The conversation moves out of his range a few minutes later but what he can gather is that the church is being expanded and the unfamiliar voice belongs to the local contractor in charge of the project.
Jungkook doesn’t respond much when the cellar door starts being opened some hours later, so used to hearing the noise and rolling his eyes since it meant another load of human cum being dumped inside his body. But the jingle of keys, the scrape of the lock and the squeak of the rusty hinge continue for quite a while, being made by someone who is clearly not accustomed to opening it regularly. Jungkook frowns, unsure of what to expect when the lock finally clicks open and a figure peers inside trying to use the light from outside to see. But Jungkook can see everything: can see the hand fumbling along the wall at the top step searching for a light, can see the sneaker shoes of a human male and the scowl of his eyebrows as he stares blindly ahead. He finds the light after a moment, making himself squint and recoil at the shocking difference in brightness.
He’s young and clearly not from the church. Jeans and a ratty t-shirt cover his tall but rather thick, muscular frame. His sandy hair covers one eyebrow and little hoops glint in both ears. He comes down a few steps and freezes when he sees Jungkook kneeling in the cell naked, bleeding, and bound. He rubs frantically at his face and looks again before collapsing backwards onto the steps, eyes wide with panic and chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Holy shit…” He mutters. Jungkook doesn’t move but continues to stare at the human who obviously isn’t supposed to be here. The man straightens himself up and slinks down the stairs with an extreme degree of caution. “You….you’re. Are you alright?” He asks from the bottom of the stairs.
Jungkook pauses, having never been asked a direct question in years. He chuckles darkly, “Come to have your fun with me?”
“Huh?” The stranger creeps closer, one small step at a time. “Dude you’re bleeding a lot. You need help.”
“Fuck you.” Jungkook spits, lunging at the cell bars as best he can.
“Oh my god. I’m gonna get some help.” The human starts to back up. He reaches into his back pocket to pull out a phone.
“Hah! Don’t fucking bother. I know your games, human.” Jungkook’s tail tries to twitch where it’s tied to his bruised thigh.
The man scowls at that. “Dude, you need help. You’re gonna bleed out.”
“Then so be it! Leave me alone.” Jungkook slithers into the corner of his cell, trying to lessen the effects of the blasting lights and the intense stare of the human and not liking it because there didn’t seem to be any malice behind it, which was foreign to Jungkook.
“Just let me help you.” The man pleads, stepping forward again. “Let me take you to the hospital.”
“You think your human doctors can help me?! Fucking pathetic! Only Lucy can stitch my flesh back on and end my suffering. Your inferior kind are nothing.”
“I don’t know what drugs they’ve been giving you but I promise I’m gonna help you.” He steps forward again. Jungkook growls, growing wary of this bizarre human specimen. “I’ll get you out of here.” He fumbles with the heavy key ring, “What does the key look like?”
Jungkook pictures the little silver key with the chipped tooth in his mind, knowing that the reverend will have taken it off the ring before giving it to an outsider. He wasn’t just going to expose his dirty little secret like that. He was going to do his very best to keep Jungkook chained up in the basement for him and all his Christy worshipping colleagues to fuck whenever they wanted. Oh but how sweet it would be to haunt their dreams for the rest of eternity, even blinded they would still see him in their minds. Sweet, sweet torture, the thing Jungkook was best at.
But in order to get out Jungkook would have to cooperate with a human, a lesser being. Could he live with himself after doing such a thing? Ha! Of course he could, Jungkook would stop at nothing to start torturing again, to see fear in a mortal’s eyes and the tremble of their fragile limbs and that euphoric fucking feeling of having blood mist and splatter over his skin. He grins, “It’s in the office.”
Of all the things Namjoon expected when he went into the basement, seeing a bound demonic humanoid bleeding a puddle onto the worn stone floor was not on his list of possibilities. And part of him didn’t even believe what he’d seen. How could he? Demons weren’t real, people didn’t have horns or tails of the ability to survive after losing like a gallon of blood. It must have been a delusion from his addled brain, riddled with cabin fever after being ill for weeks. He locks the door behind him and rests his forehead against the smooth wood, willing himself not to pass out. It was too real in a way that was hard for him to understand. That couldn’t have been real but it was, it had to have been. He lets himself run circles in his mind, coming up with endless possibilities and conclusions that didn’t make sense. He takes a shuddering breath and pushes away from the door, walking briskly to the main office where the key supposedly was.
It didn’t matter that the man was distinctly inhuman, or at least appeared to be, Namjoon still felt the drive to help him. He couldn’t be happy cooped up in that jail cell and he was in serious need of medical attention. It was the basic principle of being human, was it not? To help others? Or was he mistaken in that thought? Being human meant that he was fragile and weak and doomed to waste away to the slow decay of time, and perhaps the creature in the cell was not limited to the same fate, which was quite fascinating to think about. But this was all assuming that he hadn’t been having an hallucination or was just seeing things in result to his bout of cabin fever. Maybe he was just crazy, or insane, which was a better word for it.
Namjoon stops in front of the office door, labeled in gold leaf. The frosted glass window doesn’t let him see if anyone is inside, which posed a big problem since he was surely not supposed to be looking for the key that would unlock the demon in the basement (Namjoon had decided in that moment that the person really was a demon). He would need to have a back up plan if one of the clergy was inside the office - a question or excuse to search them out. In fact he did have a harmless question about the age of the older looking parts of the church that he could ask, though it might seem rather strange to walk all the way to the office to ask such a thing when he had all the building plans already in his possession. However, the basement he had walked into was notably missing from some of the later plans. It appeared briefly in the earliest documents and was told that it had been filled in later due to structural integrity concerns. Namjoon had wondered why the door was still there and thought that he may get a kick out of seeing a plain brick wall behind it only to find out that it was a prison for something very much alive. And something about that was incredibly off-putting.
He turns the knob quickly, as if he had every right to enter the office, only to find it empty and silent. The security camera by the front entrance of the church displays a still video feed of the doors and stacks of papers litter the desks. A tall pile of bibles sits in the corner next to a bookshelf with all manner of biblical literature showing along the spines. A big cross hangs menacingly across from the door, above the computer and security feed. Pictures of jesus and angels litter the cream colored walls, casting judgement down on whoever was in the office. Namjoon feels a shiver run down his spine and quickly closes the door behind him. He looks around the room, unsure of where to start or where this key might be. He searches the top of the desk, trying not to move anything or knock things out of place. Drawers are full of pocket bibles and rosaries and office supplies, yielding nothing even remotely scandalous. He fumbles along the tops of the books on the shelves hoping to feel cold metal atop the temperate pages. Panic starts to grow in his veins the longer he searches and finds nothing of interest. He rummages through the drawers on the other desk, getting exasperated and frustrated. Namjoon lifts a heavy black bible in the bottom drawer and finally sees what he’s looking for; a little silver key with a chipped tooth. This must be it, hidden away under religious materials in the bottom drawer of the office. Movement on the security camera catches his attention as he stares at it. One of the clergy pulls the front door open, trying to hold a load of books in his arms and Namjoon knows he’ll be heading straight for the office. He looks back at the key, debating if he should take it. He knew where it was now and he didn’t have time to go back to the basement to unlock the cell anyways. He knew the clergy would be wanting to hear his thoughts about the building after his initial survey. Suspicion would be raised if the key was missing and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He would come back tomorrow to assess the structural supports anyways and he could make a move then. He hurriedly shuts the drawer, trying to make it look as untouched as possible. He takes a breath to calm himself and then opens the door.
Namjoon doesn’t much notice the fact that Leann isn’t home when he throws his bag down on the kitchen table and sits heavily, still unsure about the events of the day. He’d found a humanoid demon chained up in a church basement and as if that wasn’t fucked up enough the plans for said basement had been erased from the building plans to keep it hidden away. He wondered how long the creature had been down there, a deep pity forming in his chest. Namjoon rubs absently at his forehead and pulls the rolled up building plans from his bag, examining the layout once again, reading the notes he had written here and there. The clergy had made no mention of the basement when he discussed the flooring plan with them. Namjoon frowns, tapping his pencil against the paper. How did they expect to keep it a secret when they were going to have to redo the walls and floors across the whole building? The door to the basement wasn’t invisible, it was clear as day at the end of one hallway behind the main service space.
The clock ticks away on the wall all the way to almost midnight before Namjoon finally seems to notice that Leann still isn’t home. His fiance was never home late and he started to grow concerned. She didn’t text or call that she would be out later than usual but just when Namjoon pulls out his phone to check for messages he hears keys jingling in the lock. A smile grows across his face at the thought of her. She was everything; perfection personified with dark hair and small lips and smooth skin and a big, sexy brain. The wedding was in just a few weeks and he couldn’t wait. Maybe it was odd that he was so much looking forward to getting married but he was if it meant spending the rest of his days with her. Every day with Leann was another adventure where they laughed themselves into oblivion and searched out new places and just went with it when things didn’t exactly go as planned. Truly they were perfect together.
“Hey, honey. How was work?” Namjoon asks when he hears her kicking off her shoes. A response doesn’t come for a while and when it does it’s distinctly out of character.
“It was fine. Busy.” Leann mutters as she walks into the living room, still beautiful even when something is clearly bothering her. She looks tired and drained, like she hadn’t eaten or slept in days though Namjoon had shared breakfast with her that morning. Eggs and toast, he remembered because she had tried to take a bite of both and the eggs fell off onto her plate with a splat and they had both laughed so hard they cried.
“Want to talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping that a gentle nudge might make her open up and feel better.
“Not right now. I’m just gonna get some sleep if that’s okay with you. Gotta get up early.” She offers a strained smile and drags herself down the hallway.
“Okay, feel better baby! I love you!” He calls. There is no response.
Namjoon doesn’t get much sleep that night. Leann is cold and unresponsive when he climbs into bed and wraps his arms around her. She’s gone before he wakes up, leaving him to eat breakfast by himself and further contemplate why she’s so upset and the nature of the demon in the basement of the church. He’s nervous as he drives to the church and walks up to the door, knowing that someone is watching him from the office. He waits until all the clergy have gone to the Friday service to crack open the office door and nab the little silver key. He clutches it tightly in his palm as he hurries as fast as he can without looking suspicious to the basement door.
The lock doesn’t cooperate at first and he starts to panic when it finally opens with a loud creak. He flinches at the sound, hoping that no one else heard it. He hurries down the stairs, fumbling for the light switch. The demon is still there, in exactly the same position, dripping blood slowly down his arms and naked thighs. A small trickle runs down his temple into his eye and then to his mouth. He seems unphased by it, though. They stare at each other for a long moment before Namjoon finally speaks.
“I found the key.” He opens his palm so that the little piece of metal glints in the light. The demon smiles widely, wider than a normal human can. The image will haunt Namjoon’s dreams, that’s for sure. “I’ll let you out.”
He steps forward to the rusty lock and then hesitates. Should he do this? Should he let this demon out? His phone buzzes in his pocket but he doesn’t look at it, transfixed on the lock in front of him. What if it kills him as soon as he opens the door? He couldn’t die and leave Leann like that. He had too much to lose in that respect.
“I can smell your fear, human.” The demon says, emotionless and cold. But somehow he seems interested in conversation, like he wants to talk about it.
“Will you kill me? If I let you out?” Namjoon looks into the eyes of the devil, red and glowing and full of hatred.
“I am too weak to kill you and it would serve me no purpose. To survive in this world I need you alive.” Honesty rings in the demon’s answer but Namjoon still has doubts.
“What do you mean?”
“I was cast from Hell and I have no wings to return. I have been stripped of my power. Down here in the mortal realm I am almost as human as you save for a few vital differences.” The demon’s tail twitches as he says this.
“And what will you do? Supposing I open this door?”
“That’s none of your concern. I will carry out the mission of my master in hopes that he shows favor on me.”
“Are you going to kill people?”
“Only those who deserve to die. I am one of few that can pass judgement in this realm.” He pauses for a moment, never breaking eye contact. “Killing you is not part of my mission.”
Something feels wrong. About this whole situation. Namjoon stumbles back and grabs at the front of his shirt, fumbling for his phone. No, no he knew something was wrong. Displayed across his unlocked screen is a message from Leann.
Some things have occured recently between us and I just don’t feel comfortable in this relationship anymore. I’ve thought about it and I just don’t feel we’re right for each other. I’ve already got all my stuff from your place. Wish you the best. I respectfully request that we no longer contact each other.
That’s it. That’s all the message says. Namjoon brings the phone up to his ear to try to call her in some kind of shocked panic and it goes straight to voicemail. He tries again, voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Tears start to leak from his eyes and strange sounding wheezes blowing past his lips. It’s a sick joke, it has to be. He checks his messenger app, expecting to see her smiling face as his top contact but there’s nothing. Namjoon opens everything - twitter, facebook, instagram and even snapchat - but her icon is gone. She’s gone, as if she never even existed at all. Namjoon collapses onto the floor, clutching at his chest and staring at his screen, waiting for her to text that it was all a horrible trick. The text never comes and he knows it won’t. Namjoon looks up at the cage where the demon kneels, still bleeding, and screams at him. A deep and heated rage erupts within him, a hatred so twisted that he scrambles to his feet and turns the little silver key in the rusted lock, the mechanism making a loud clank before the door swings open. He yanks at the demon’s bound arms, met with a hiss of disapproval, and removes the cuffs around his wrists before his legs give out beneath him.
“Do it!” Namjoon screeches. “Fucking kill them all!” He curls into himself on the cold stone, sobbing uncontrollably. His mind races with thoughts and images and movies of his fiance smiling and laughing and promising to stay with him forever. Fucking lies!! The world goes dark around the edges, the corners of his consciousness fading as his body is overwhelmed with grief. His heart feels cold and small, as if it was shrinking against his will. Nothing was right in the world anymore, and it never would be again. “Make them suffer!!”
Jungkook has seen little of mortals up close, save for those who raped him every day, so watching the human who has set him free crumple on the floor is slightly off-putting. It’s certainly weird to watch the bag of flesh and bone writhe on the stone, he’s not sure what it’s feeling or why, nor does he much care, but something about the pitiful look on its face makes Jungkook almost start to feel bad for it. Jungkook, himself, is in no position to be making anyone suffer at the moment, made evident as he struggles to stand properly. The punctuated words of the service happening above him start to grate on his nerves more than usual because now he can actually do something about it. If he really felt like it he could set the whole place ablaze and rip the fingers and toes and teeth out of the priests one by one. But if he is to complete his duty as a servant to Lucy then he needs this human to return to its senses and the only way he can think to do that is to leave it alone in a comfortable place for a while. Jungkook breaks the chain wrapped around his thigh off with little effort, sighing in pleasure when his tail starts to swish freely around his ankles. He squats down by the crumpled human, pondering how to interact with it. Was he supposed to touch it when it was like this? Jungkook reaches a hesitant hand out to brush over the shoulder of the creature. It doesn’t respond very much to the action so Jungkook just picks it up off the floor and watches it cry for a moment.
“Where do you live?” He asks, feeling rather stupid. Demons of his status knew the basics of how humans operated, however, knowledge of their emotions or habits was not passed to anyone in Hell other than Lucy. But Jungkook had certainly learned a lot by being forced to listen to casual conversation through the floorboards for years.
“D-doesn’t matter. She’s not gonna be there anyways.” The human writhes again. “She betrayed me! How could she do this to me?! I gave her everything!”
Jungkook hums thoughtfully. “Would you like me to do you a favor and kill her?”
“What?? No! She’s just confused, she’s just stressed out at work. She just -” The human doesn’t finish, dissolving into tears again. And for as much as Jungkook doesn’t know about humans, he certainly does know that this one is reacting to a traumatic experience.
“Where do you live?” He asks again, growing slightly uncomfortable having a squirming mortal flesh bag in his arms.
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’m going to take you there.” Jungkook shifts from foot to foot, noticing for the first time the feeling of stone under his soles.
“Don’t you have some mission to do here?” The human stutters between wails.
Jungkook chuckles darkly. “I have all the time in the world to do that. Besides, there is one of innocence in the crowd today. It would be unfitting for me to do my duty in the presence of such a soul.”
“A baby?” The human stares blearily up at him, the picture of pity.
“Ha! No, someone is hiding a puppy in their purse. To scar the soul of an innocent is the highest of grievances for a demon. I would never do such a thing, and even if I did I would never be in favor with my master again. So I will take you home while I wait.”
“Are you going to kill babies?”
“All humans are born under the same mortality, with the same soul in different versions. A baby has the same soul as an adult, so it makes no difference who I kill.” Jungkook starts walking towards the stairs, noting how odd it feels to locomote after so long of not doing so. “But the answer to your question is yes, I will be killing babies.”
“That’s disgusting.” The human whimpers.
“Is it?” Lifting his weight from stair to stair is a difficult task for Jungkook, who must use his tail for added balance and consistently stop to calibrate himself every few steps.
“Babies are born without sin. Everyone knows that.”
“Are they? A rapist started as a baby. A murderer started as a baby. A thief started as a baby.” Jungkook finally reaches the top of the flight following the path of receding footsteps that he knew all too well. “Babies have the same souls as adults, just in smaller bodies. They are no freer of immorality than adults.”
“No! You’re wrong! It’s the adults who raise the child that are the problem! It’s because they were taught that way! It’s not the baby’s fault!” The human almost seems lost in it’s own mind now. It stares dazedly past Jungkook’s ear, eyes out of focus.
“Am I wrong? A baby is destined to be what it’s soul tells it to be. If it has an impure soul then it is impure from birth, regardless of any adults it may come across. Humans are naturally evil, as your kind would describe it, some more so than others. If I really based by decisions on the state of development of a human then your world would be a very different place and perhaps your lowly opinion would change.” Jungkook reaches a big glass door and for some reason it really bothers him. That stupid glass with it’s stupid reflection showing him in all his naked glory holding a mortal in his arms. Jungkook swings his head at the glass, shattering it with his horns. It feels good to do so, to feel the nature of destruction under his skin. Jungkook lets his aura build, bending the metal frame of the door where he passes through without even touching it, tail whipping in excitement.
The sunlight feels good on his skin, almost like the steamy humidity in the clouds of Hell. The pavement is hot under his bare feet and the cars in the parking lot reflect light into his eyes, making him squint reflexively. It’s nearly euphoric, nearly orgasmic.
His sweet little moment of freedom is interrupted by a growing commotion behind him. It seems that his destruction of the door has not gone unnoticed by the commoners at the service. He hurries to look for an exit route. “Do you drive?” He asks the human.
“Where’s your car?” Jungkook casts an irritated glance behind him, not particularly wanting to be pushed into absorbing souls in the presence of an innocent. He can see it glowing faintly next to the black, haggard orb of the human holding it, still inside the church.
“Over there.” The human flops an arm in the direction of a big black pickup truck and Jungkook beelines for the mass of metal.
“Open the door.” He commands, setting the human down on its feet. It grabs a set of keys and somehow the door unlocks without him using any sort of key. Jungkook doesn’t let his shock last long and hauls himself into the passenger seat, forcing the human to go around to the other side. The human proceeds to start sobbing again as soon as he sits down and Jungkook doesn’t have time for him to be sappy anymore. “I can offer you something that will take your sadness away forever.”
“Please. Please take it away. It hurts so bad. I’m gonna fucking die from this pain.” The human screeches, punching the dashboard.
“Drink my tears.” Jungkook says, forcing a drop of liquid out of the corner of one eye. It’s an active process for a demon to cry, they have to make themselves do it. The human stares at him, confused. “Take it and your sadness will go away. I promise.” When he gets no response he pushes a little further, “Trust me.”
He hesitates, eyes wide and jaw slack, before leaning over and trailing the tip of his tongue over Jungkook’s cheek. He shudders and sits back in his seat, swallowing loudly. He laughs suddenly, “I didn’t think you were serious.”
“What purpose would I have to lie to you? I am too weak to do anything without your help.” Jungkook watches the crowd start to gather near the door through the car window. He watches the innocent soul be carried to one of the cars and driven away. He growls in excitement, tail knocking against the hard plastic interior of the vehicle.
“Why don’t you put some clothes on?” The human suggests gently from his side, eyes locked onto his thrashing tail.
“Because I don’t need to. I am not subject to your trivial mortal views of modesty.”
“You’re very honest.” The human shoots back, frowning.
“Christy would have you believe that my kind are liars and thieves, but on the contrary we do very little of that. We have no need to.” Jungkook turns his gaze back to the crowd, thinking of how best to torch them.
“The thing they worship.” Jungkook seethes just a little bit at the mention of Christy, whom he hated above all else.
“Oh. I see. Y’know, this whole no saddness thing is pretty fuckin’ weird.” The human rubs at his chest, perhaps checking if his heart was still beating. “I feel like part of me is missing now. Or maybe that’s just cuz of Leann.”
“You’re welcome.” Jungkook replied pointedly.
“Not sure that I like this feeling but thanks.” The human leans forward to peer out the window at the growing crowd. “I’m Namjoon by the way.”
Jungkook just hums, too busy focusing on how he could regain enough strength to start a demonic flame at his fingertips. He had tried many times in the church basement to channel all his remaining strength in all manner of circumstances but to no avail. Perhaps the scent of Christy was too heavy in there for him to be successful. He raises one of his hands and tries again, the tiniest little flicker making itself known as he concentrates. It’s not remotely enough to start a fire but at least he knows now that he can still do it. “Mmm.”
“What?” Namjoon asks, still rubbing at his chest.
“I need a sacrifice to regain enough strength to do anything of use in this world. A big one.” He narrows his eyes, spotting reverend Thomas among the crowd. His lips pull back over his teeth and he growls loudly, watching the blackened crisp of a soul bob between lighter grey ones. There’s a small child, soul equally as black, wandering at the edge of the crowd, a perfect sacrifice. “Come with me.” He pops the door open and closes it quietly behind himself. Namjoon leans against the car next to him, puzzled and apprehensive. “Stand back and don’t interfere.” Jungkook mutters, watching his chosen target wander closer and closer to his strike zone. He grabs it before it can do much more than raise it’s eyebrows in surprise. Jungkook bites deeply into the throat of the mortal, slicing through muscle and tendon like butter, taking his large mouthful clean off of the child’s body. He swallows down the meat and starts to suck at the blood pouring forth from the wound, drinking until he can feel the heat of the child’s soul passing into his own body. He tosses the empty husk on the pavement and drops to his knees, running his hands over his chest and thighs as power flows through him, hot and electric. He watches demonic flame burst from his palms, spreading it haphazardly over his skin. Fuck it felt so good to be full of human soul again, to be the judge instead of the judged.
Enshrouded in flame, Jungkook stands, ignoring Namjoon’s shocked expression, and begins his slow walk towards the church. Eyes turn to him and gasps of disbelief ring out into the air, Jungkook grins widely and reaches out to touch the human closest to him, frozen in fear. She bursts into flame as soon as his fingertips graze her skin. She screams and collapses, life already spent, and before the others can do much more than turn to run Jungkook releases a blast of flame, cooking all those in the vicinity, the smell of burning flesh filling his nose. A blackened woman, belly swollen with child lays before him, eyes rolled back and skin burned clean off. He plunges his hand into her womb and rips the unborn out, crushing it’s head with almost no force. The taste of brain matter spreads over his tongue as he laps at the remnants running down his wrist. The souls of those he’s killed slowly melt into his skin, drawn to him like moths to a flame. The reverend stands in the doorway, smelling of urine where he’s pissed himself, sweat running down his temples as always.
“Pray to your god!” Jungkook screams, voice distorted and too deep. He grabs the reverend by his almost nonexistent throat and pulls him inside the church, leaving his charred mess out on the blacktop to bake under the sun.
Namjoon doesn’t quite know what to think or do when he watches the demon rip the throat out of a small boy then toss his deathly pale and shriveled body onto the pavement between two silver cars. The demon hadn’t been lying when he said Namjoon wouldn’t be able to feel sadness anymore, but he could still feel pity for the poor child, for a life unlived. He’s unable to look away when the demon becomes a sudden burst of red flame, the acrid scent of charred flesh lasting in his nose for only a moment. The crowd drops like flies, all black and burnt. Perhaps the worst part is when he pops the head off an unborn baby and eats it. That’s the part that makes Namjoon vomit onto the pavement. The demon disappears inside the church, dragging one of the clergy by the throat.
Namjoon, having rid his stomach of all but bile, shifts nervously from foot to foot. He was an accessory to mass murder now, whether the creature fully responsible was human or not. He’s still the one who let it out and now he was wondering if he’d made the right choice. He didn’t feel sad about the death of his relationship with Leann anymore, he couldn’t. But was that a good thing? Was not being able to feel sadness something that made him less human? Or was it an advantage? He couldn’t tell and he doubted that he would see any of the consequences of his choice for some years to come. New relationships would be near impossible now, he knew that. Women would be confused and uncomfortable with his inability to feel sad. But he couldn’t feel sad about that either. It was an odd feeling, to be frustrated by his lack of ability to feel something ‘normal’. He’s not sure what to do about it either.
The minutes tick by and still the demon does not return. Namjoon begins to grow increasingly worried about being seen around so much death. Thankfully this church is situated a short ways away from nearby houses and businesses, but still close enough to be seriously concerning. He gathers up his courage and makes a mad dash for the door, eyes locked in the church interior and not the barbequed bodies of the people who went to the service. Namjoon wretches again, stumbling to the floor as he sees the utter carnage that the demon has created inside the main service area. Two of the priests hang, disemboweled and naked, from the large cross behind the sermon table. Their guts swing slightly, dripping gore onto the marble flooring and splattered across the walls. Namjoon doesn’t look too closely, knowing that all those red patches on them were things the demon had cut off, probably while they were still alive. Their eyes dangle out of the sockets, swaying like white pendants on red string. Namjoon can barely comprehend the horror inside the room. Blood is painted over all the faces of the saints and angels on the walls, the stench of it nearly overwhelming.
The demon himself is busy choking a third clergyman with a bundle of rosaries, his eyes are glowing like beacons and the too wide smile is back. His skin is red with blood in a manner that looks like he smeared it all over himself with the flames still licking around his curled horns. He laughs suddenly, a sound that is very, very inhuman in nature. It’s too deep, rattling Namjoon’s bones in his body. He stops choking the man, whose lips have gone blue, and holds him up by the throat instead. He plunges a hand into the abdominal cavity, smile growing wider at the screams and the wet, muted snap of bone has Namjoon dry heaving again. He’s been pinning up the clergy to the cross using their own bones and this third man faces the same fate. Namjoon notices burnt, disfigures and mutilated bodies littering the pews around him and another man, portly and red in the face, bound by the demon’s tail which has grown significantly in length. The demon slashes at the stomach of the newly hung man with his flaming horns and the sickening plop of intestines on the floor has Namjoon wanting to die. What had he done?! How could he have let this monster out of its cage?!
“And you! Dear reverend, it’s finally your turn to atone for your sins.” The demon slowly unwinds his tail from the body of the last man. “Pray to your god now, whore.” He says mockingly. The reverend shivers and cries but doesn’t do what the demon seems to want from him. His red eyes narrow, “I said PRAY!” He screams, a clawed hand reaching for the reverends face to pluck out one of his eyeballs. The reverend, who Namjoon finally realizes is the head of the clergy at the church named Thomas Bouregard, screams and puts his hands together to simulate praying. The demon laughs again, “For all those years you enjoyed my body against my will. Now it’s your turn, little whore. Turn on those who follow you! Destroy your own fucked establishment!” The demon hoists him up to eye level with the dying man pinned to the cross. “Pull his tongue out for speaking the false truth!” He orders. Thomas pleads to the demon but not even a glimmer of remorse shows in his red eyes. “I said pull it, dear reverend.” Lightening quick, he snaps off one of the Thomas’s fingers. The reverend listens to him, slotting his remaining nine fingers between the jaws of his dying comrade.
The squelsh of flesh being removed is loud in the silence of the church, the groan of the dying man probably the last sound he’ll ever make. Namjoon puts his forehead to the floor, wishing so badly that he could go back and make himself keep the door shut on the prison. The demon makes Thomas pull off the ears and eyes of the dead clergy and then fucks him but the way the reverend is screaming leads Namjoon to believe that there is more going on than he cares to know about. He keeps his head down and focuses on his breathing, wondering why he deserved to witness this. He was sure if he ran the demon would cook him alive in seconds so he just stays put on the floor, trying not to listen to the snap of bone and the splatter of blood and the gargled screams. It goes on forever, or at least it feels that way.
“Do you wish you had been born, dear reverend?” A whine is heard in response. “Where is your god now, wretch?” The laugh shakes Namjoon’s bones again. “Accept your fate, be damned to die a thousand deaths for all eternity in the fires of Hell, soul cursed to rot in the graveyard of souls, never again to see the light of life! That is your punishment, mortal! So it has been spoken, so let it be.” He speaks in some guttural language after that, punctuated by wet snaps.
Namjoon ponders lifting his head after silence has started to ring in his ears. He jumps when the voice of the demon sounds quite close to him, returned to its normal, nearly human quality. “We should probably get out of here. You’re no use to me rotting in prison and my energy is spent.”
Namjoon shakes his head, horrified beyond words, watching the sway of intestines behind his eyelids. He gags again but his stomach is empty. He feels like dying, like never again seeing the light of day. How could he want to keep living when he had just witnessed something so grotesquely disturbing with his own two eyes. Perhaps he should pluck them out like the demon had done.
“I can offer you something that will take your horror away forever.” The demon says softly.
Namjoon lifts his head expecting to see him drenched in blood and guts, but he looks quite normal, a healthy flush coloring his cheeks. The human nods slowly, afraid of moving too fast.
“Drink my saliva and you will never again feel disgust at the hands of the horrific.” The demon sticks out his tongue, which is a normal human one, and Namjoon lets his own rub across the smooth, wet surface. And it’s gone, just like that. He no longer feels horrified by the events of the past few minutes, he feels nothing, he feels...normal in a very strange way. He picks himself up off the floor and makes for the hole where the door used to be, noticing the lump of red and pink flesh on the altar that must be what’s left of reverend Thomas.
They get in the car and drive off, leaving the carnal damnation of the clergy behind without a care. To where? Namjoon isn’t quite sure but he knows he won’t be returning to his apartment for the foreseeable future. He notices for the first time, as they sit at a red light, how human the demon looks when he’s not covered in blood and flame, save for the horns and the tail. He’s still bleeding and has notified Namjoon that he will continue to bleed from his back until his wings are stitched on again, so Namjoon has put a blue tarp over the passenger seat where a pool of red is already starting to form.
“What’s your name?” He asks, watching the cars in front of him start to crawl forward.
“Knowing my name would give you a degree of power that would currently set your mortal body aflame. But if you wish to, you can call me JK for short.”
“Alright.” They’re quiet for a moment. “Do you know where you want to go now? I have lost everything in my world so I don’t care where we go.”
“Hmm.” JK leans back against the tarp, staring out the window. “There is a cluster of unforgivable souls near here that I should deal with. But I need to rest first; damning mortals is a high energy process. I won’t be able to do it again for a few days.”
“Okay. I’ll book a hotel. The church paid me early this morning so I’m set financially. For a week or so, at least.” Namjoon makes a left down a less busy street after seeing some pedestrians cast curious glances at JK through the window.
“Mmm, I forget that you mortals still use such barbaric methods. I can take care of that for you, don’t worry.” JK waves a hand to dismiss the problem, another notable human habit.
“Why are you so human-like? It’s weird.” Namjoon scowls as someone darts across the road in front of his car, making him slam on the brakes.
“Because I’ve been here for so long. I told you before that I am nearly as human as you down in this realm, I wasn’t lying.”
“Huh. Am I still human anymore?” Namjoon asks under his breath, knowing that he drank the tears and saliva of a demon from Hell that had stripped away at his emotions.
“Feelings don’t make you human. As a demon, I can feel a lot of the same things you can. The ability to love doesn’t make you any more human as it does me, demon.”
“You can love?” The information shocks Namjoon, having been bred in a society that said demons can never love.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be able to? The only things I can’t feel are the things that I can give you the ability to also be immune from. I can’t be sad or horrified or lost or lonely, among others.”
“Huh. That’s interesting.” Namjoon clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I would have thought demons can’t feel anything.”
“Of course you would. The only thing you humans know is the lies that Christy tells you. She chose to intervene with humans, which was wrong. My master kept to his word and stayed out of your affairs. But, of course, accidents happen when angels and demons get thrown out and then discovered. That’s why you have satanism. The goal is to regain favor by working in the shadows to keep the ultimate balance but we aren’t perfect creatures. You know, angels had more to do with the creation of satanism than demons did. They’ll never tell you that, though.”
“Tell me about Christy and your master.” Namjoon settles one hand at 12 o’clock on the steering wheel, relaxing against his seat.
“Well, my master is Lucy and Christy was his opposite. The were supposed to work together to keep the world in check, to make sure that there was no central creation idea. One of Christy’s sperm and one of Lucy’s eggs joined to make the first single-celled organism. They worked together really well for a long time, until something evolved that they weren’t planning on. Lucy wanted to destroy early humans to keep the balance pure and Christy wanted to keep them since they had come about naturally as part of the systematic world. Lucy made an agreement with Christy that neither would step in to save or destroy humans unless they threatened the balance. Of course, some time later Christy broke her end of the promise and stepped into your world, spreading rumors that Lucy wanted to destroy all humans and that they were tainted by Lucy’s hand. She made a big scene and then some idiot wrote it down and now you’ve gone rampant with the lies Christy spread.” JK rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
“So it would be wrong to say that Lucy is evil and Christy is good.”
“Yes, that would be wrong. Neither, in the beginning, were good or evil. Lucy held one end of responsibilities taking and recycling life and Christy held the other, creating and birthing life. All souls are recycled when you die, except when a mortal judge, like myself, steps in to end the recycling process in which case the soul goes to the Pit and then to the graveyard of souls. All human souls were innocent until Christy stepped in and made them impure of mind. Your kind run wild with suspicion and rumor, all of which was Christy’s fault, and for that reason you are all ‘sinful’.” JK uses air quotes for added effect.
“So sin came from Christy, not from Lucy?”
“Sin is a human construction, just like time and gender roles. There was no sin in the beginning. Christy created the idea of sin, so I guess you could say sin comes from her.”
“Do either of them have souls?”
“No, neither Christy nor Lucy nor any of their servants have souls. Since we are created in the image of our masters, we are also born without soul, there was no such thing as soul until the single cell became two.”
“You really don’t have a soul?” Namjoon squints and looks at JK again, noting all his human features and the way his face conveys emotion. His eyes are big and round, set above a rather large but somehow cute nose and small lips. Black hair flops over his forehead and a tiny mole is visible right under his bottom lip. If he were human, he’d be quite attractive.
“I don’t. But you do.” The demon stares at Namjoon’s chest.
“What does my soul look like? Can you see it?” Namjoon is suddenly irrationally interested in this conversation.
“Yeah I can see souls, but it would be wrong for me to tell you what yours looks like since it would influence you in a way that my master doesn’t support. But if you want to know, it’s right here.” He leans over to poke Namjoon right in the center of his chest. “It gathers in your middle, from all parts of your body. That’s where I can see it best.”
“What do souls look like?” Namjoon turns to face him, stopped again at a red light, now on the outskirts of the city.
“Depends. Evil, corrupted souls are black and thin and kinda cracked looking….kinda. Hmm, I guess it’s hard to describe in your language. Pure souls, like the puppy had, are a little like a ball of smoke that’s also flaming and glittering. A little like white water. A little. I guess you don’t have a lot of things in this world that look like souls.” JK laughs as he says this, smiling to reveal large front teeth. Something about that makes Namjoon smile, too.
Namjoon pulls up to a rather fancy looking hotel, instructing JK to lay down in the backseat until he had finished paying for a room. Figuring out how to get a bloodsoaked demon into the building without detection was a problem they both pondered on for a while until the demon suggested that they wrap a towel around his chest to catch the blood from his back and cover it with a sweatshirt Namjoon had thrown into the backseat. JK is very vocal about his distaste for “JEANS”, which he says with a weird, offended accent every time. The horns were another problem that they solved by pulling the hood of the sweatshirt up and wrapping the ram-like appendages in rags. It was good enough for them to hurry to the elevator, which JK also didn’t like, and sprint down the hallway to the room.
“Jeans.” JK mutters scathingly as he drags the fabric off his legs and throws it into the bedroom. Namjoon laughs, finding it utterly ridiculous that a demon from Hell had such a problem with the simple article of clothing. JK, as it turns out, doesn’t sleep but he does go into a resting state which he said was a lot like meditating. Namjoon had told him to do his resting in the tub so they could clean the blood out of it in the morning.
Namjoon doesn’t dream that night, his mind just replays all that had happened in the past few hours, which was a lot. He thinks of Leann and JK and what the demon was capable of and the nature of good and evil in the world as told from the lips of an ethereal being. He thinks of what it means to be human and where the line was that separated him from JK, since it didn’t appear to be as clear cut as he would have expected. There were a lot of things individually that made JK a demon, but if you stripped all those cosmetic things away, would he be human? Was he, on a very base level, already human? Were there just extra things that he had that made him a demon? Surely that couldn’t be the case since humans came into being way after the creation of angels and demons, but in a way it made sense to Namjoon. Or perhaps he was just delusional, still hallucinating from cabin fever and he would wake up with Leann next to him and a totally normal construction project laid out on the kitchen table.