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Swan felt quite at home in the dark cathedral. It was quiet, and quite lonely. Except that he wasn’t alone; Lewis Legend was standing under the sole light that shone down from the vaulted ceiling. The leader of the Dark Purveyors was smoking a cigarette, his brow furrowed. Swan turned his attention back to his grimoire. He scrawled a few more lines before Lewis’ deep voice seemed to boom.
“I don’t understand you, kid.”
Swan looked up. “You’re not supposed to ‘understand me’; you’re supposed to do what our contract says.” He stated with annoyance.
Lewis turned his amber gaze upon the teenager. “I know that. But what I don’t get is, why go through all this trouble because you can’t get a prom date?”
Swan growled and slammed his grimoire shut, turning his head towards the greaser. “It’s more complicated than that!” he spat.
“Is it really?” Lewis retorted, puffing on his cigarette, exhaling a lungful of smoke. “You are willing to maybe end your life to fuck over an entire town because you can’t stomach your own problems?”
“They all beat me down until I had nothing! I have no friends, my dad doesn’t care, and no one else cares for that matter! So FUCK them!” Swan said, gritting his teeth.
Lewis started laughing. “You think you’re the only kid who’s ever been in that situation? My life wasn’t roses either.”
Swan smirked. “If you are so much better than me, why are you a Dark Purveyor?”
Lewis bit his lip hard and crushed his cigarette out and marched up to Swan, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
“Listen, punk. I’m trying to tell you this all ain’t worth it. I know its cool right now for anklebiters like yourself to be all edgy and shit, but you’ll be reaping the consequences for eternity, like all the Purveyors are. What you want is temporary, with endless punishment waiting for you at the end of the road.” He growled, before dropping the goth.
Swan got up off the ground and dusted himself off. “Thanks for the lecture, Dad.” He said flatly. “It’s too late for that now.”
The buzzing of a chainsaw could he heard above, echoing off the ceiling.
Swan smiled. “She’s almost here.”
Lewis rolled his eyes and strode back over to his motorcycle, leaning against it.
“Seriously, I thought I had issues.” He grumbled.
Swan cracked open his grimoire once more, scribbling more lines.
The greaser sighed. “At least there is entertainment in it for me.”
Part of the ceiling crumbled as the cheerleader began to plummet downward onto the stage. When she landed, Swan smiled, closing his book. The fun was about to begin.