Chapter Text
IN THE BEGINNING
It was a nice day. All the days had been nice, there had been only seven so far and rain had yet to be invented. But the dark and heavy clouds moving in across the east suggested the first thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one. The angel of the eastern gate raised a wing above his head to shelter himself from the first drops.
"Sorry, what you say buddy?" the angel asked with a nervous grin.
"I said "Well that went down like a lead balloon,"" said the serpent.
"Oh. Yeah," the angel, whose name was Skizz, agreed.
"Bit of an overaction," the serpent whose name was Impulsive, though he now felt like changing it, he decided Impulsive wasn't really him, said as he scratched at one of his horns.
"I mean what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway?"
"Well it's gotta be bad, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Skizz said, crossing his arms with the certainty of a man who also didn't understand and had been worrying about it all afternoon.
"All they said was go up there and make some trouble," Impulsive said, with a shrug.
"Well it must have been bad," Skizz repeats "I dont think its possible for you to do good, being a demon and all. No offence."
The demon ignored him, watching nervously as the clouds crackled with a strange energy, a booming thud echoing across the sky. The angel offers up his wing and the serpent shuffles closer to shelter himself from the rain as it begins to pour.
"I didn't expect it to be so easy, I mean a huge tree with a do not touch sign. They could have at least surrounded it with a pit of lava or hid it far away." he said, "Makes you wonder what Their really planning."
"Best not speculate!" Skizz said hurriedly. " I mean if you do wrong when you're told it's wrong and you had the option to do good then you should be punished, even if you didn't know right from wrong until after you did the wrong..." Skizz says, trailing off as the ridiculousness of his words settled in his mind.
"Didn't you have a flaming sword?" Impulsive asks, bringing Skizz out of his spiral.
"Er," The angel stutters. Colour drained from his face and his eyes darted about nervously.
"You did I remember,"
"Oh well funny thing-"
"I thought it was cool, to be honest , where's it gone?"
"I- erm,"
"Lost it already?"
"I gave it away.." Skizz muttered, scratching down his arms.
"You what?" Impulsive said, eyes wide.
"I gave it away! To them! I mean, she's already expecting and Their so angry and there's vicious beasts out there! So i went down and said "here you go, one flaming sword, don't thank me, and don't let the sun go down on you here!" Skizz rambled, pointing fingers and gesturing wildly with his hands. Impulsive watching with a bewildered look on his face.
"I really hope I did the right thing," Skizz mumbles.
"Oh you're an angel, you can't do the wrong thing," Impulsive said, voice dripping in sarcasm, which goes completely unnoticed by the angel whose face regains some colour.
"I hope so, it's been eating at me all afternoon."
They watched the rain for a while in silence, standing close as to share the cover of the angel's wing.
"Be a bit funny though, wouldn't it?" Impulsive asks.
"What would?"
"If i did the good thing and you did the bad one,"
"Not really," Skizz muttered.
Impulse looked to the rain and shivered.
"No, suppose not."
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
It was a plain night. Not at all dark or stormy, or though maybe it should. It would have really set the tone, but that's British weather for you. Mild, and foggy, and gray. But don't let the lack of pathetic fallacy lull you into a false sense of security. Just because the weather is mild does not mean there's no dark forces afoot. They are always afoot, lurking in the shadows.
Quite literally, there are two, lurking in the fog right now.
"He should have been here an hour ago," one of the lurkers said, pulling frustrated on the sides of his hat. The hat was faded and smelt of must so strongly that passers by would wrinkle their noses at it in the street, but the lurker would rather discorporated then take it off. The hat is a panda, and the lurker's name is Oli, he's a duke of hell.
His friend ( a tall, deceptively average blond man named Jimmy) was walking in circles quietly around a gravestone, he had given up on lurking, quite frankly he found it to be a waste of time. He coughed into his fist, a small handful of bright yellow feathers falling from his lips and fluttering to the ground.
"I can see a light," He says, pointing in the distance.
"What's he like, anyway?"
"He's been up here too long," Oli says. "Gone native, They think."
"What's that he's riding?" the blond, feather filled man asks.
"It's called a Harley, it's like an electric horse." Oli explains.
Jimmy, like most demons, had a very limited knowledge on technology and so was about to ask if it still had hooves when the motorcycle pulled up to the graveyard, kicking up dust as the wheels spun on the gravel.
"Hail Satan," Oli says loudly.
"Hail Satan," echoes Jimmy.
"Hi guys," Impulse says with a small wave, his visor to his helmet lifted, knocking against the fake plastic devil horns someone has glued to the top. He turns his bike off with a snap of a finger , simultaneously removing the helmet and placing it carefully on the well oiled leather seat.
There's nothing particularly demonic about his appearance. In fact, he looks kind. With warm brown eyes and soft looking hair to match. The only thing that could possibly indicate his demonic status is the shape of his hairline, what at first glance looks like an average receding hairline of a 40 something man is actually a carefully constructed illusion masking the horns that protrude from the man's forehead.
"Sorry I'm late, you know how the traffic can be on the A57."
Oli nodded, despite not knowing what the traffic was like on the A57, in fact he hasn't even set foot anywhere near a motorway, let alone suffered through bank holiday traffic.
"Now we're all here shall we get started on recounting the deeds of the day?" Jimmy asks.
"Ah, yes, deeds." Impulse said sheepishly, scratching his neck and looking a bit out of place.
"Er, you go first," he offers.
"I have tempted a priest," Oli says, "When walking the street he spotted the pretty girls in the sun, I placed doubt in his mind, within a decade we shall have him." He says with a proud smile.
"Nice one," Impulse says with a nod.
"I tempted a politician," Jimmy said "She took a bribe after I convinced her it wouldn't hurt anyone, within a year we shall have her."
"You guys are gonna love this!" Impulse says with a grin.
"I took down every telephone line in central London," He said. Oli and Jim looked at each other confused.
"So what?" Oli asked as Jim muttered "What's a telephone?"
"So what? " Impulse repeats confused. " Imagine how many angry people there are right now! Taking it out on eachother, small little sins that'll build up!"
"Yes but how does that secure souls for our masters?"
Impulse paused, straightening up. What could he tell them? He liked Oli and Jim well enough, but they were old demons, 14th century minds. They wouldn't understand that you can't just spend twenty four years entertaining old men in the promise of their souls anymore. You had to strategize, spread out, go mainstream. They would never have thought of VAT, or Manchester, or rigging every mob vote since the phantoms. He was particularly proud of the the glowsquid.
"Well those who Watch seem to be satisfied," He said instead.
"Times are changing, so what's up?"
Jimmy reached behind a tombstone, revealing a picnic basket.
"This is." he said, offering the basket towards Impulse who reflexively took a step back.
"Oh." He said. "No."
"Yes." Jimmy said.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"And they want me to erm-"
"Yes." Oli said. Grinning proudly, as if this was a great honour. Suppose it would be, if Impulse was not Impulse.
"Why me?" He asks, frustrated. " You guys know me, this isn't really my scene-"
"It is, your scene, your starring role, take it." Oli said with a sing-song voice.
"Why me?" Impulse whines.
"You're highly favoured, like you said, times are changing." Jimmy said, passing Impulse the basket and clapping him on the shoulder.
"Yeah, they're coming to an end for a start," Oli laughed as he pulled a piece of paper from under his hat.
"Sign here," he says. Impulse takes the paper, fumbling with his one free hand to find his pen. A sleek red ink pen with his name engraved on the side.
"Nice pen," Jimmy says.
"It can write underwater," Impulse mutters.
"Whatever will they come up with next," Jimmy mused.
"Well whatever it is better come up with it soon, and no not just Impulse we need your real name," Oli said, poking at the other demon, who's gotten quite tense within the past few minutes. He sighs as he signs his name, a red glow overtaking his eyes before fading away to the deep brown.
"So what do I do with it now?" He asks, holding the basket far away from him as if it was too explode.
"You'll get instructions. Don't look so worried mate! Our eternal triumph awaits!" Jimmy cheers before turning and hacking up more feathers.
Impulse scrunches his face in disgust before muttering "Eternal, yeah."
"Have fun with it, Impulse!" Oli says, patting him on the shoulder.
"Fun, yeah." He mutters as he settles back onto his bike, helmet miraculously covering his face and head once more, basket nestled securely in his lap.
"Well, um, I'll be off then. Er, see you guys around, or well, at the end of- you know. Yeah. See ya, bye." He sputters before revving the bike and speeding away.
"You trust him? " Oli asks Jimmy, who had finally come up for breath after coughing up enough feathers to fill a pillowcase.
"Nope." Jimmy said.
"Yeah," Oli agrees, would be a funny old world if demons went around trusting each other.