Finally got a JOB-job (Prologue PT.3)

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(Narrator P.O.V, around 5 months since you got into hell, but a few weeks before the actual beginning of the series.)

It's been a few months since you got into hell, you've gotten accustomed to the place and it's overall shittiness. 

You've slowly started to learn more about your abilities as a demon, and have been experimenting with what you can do as well. 

Turns out, you're basically a walking, talking thunderstorm. Your electric abilities aren't just first of their kind, but uncopyable and near-godly. I guess the chair did have something good to give ya.

You've been able to sustain yourself financially by doing odd jobs and working as a cover artist, bringing the music you loved when you lived down to hell. Turns out, people pay a nice chunk of change to see somebody like you shred out something like 'Holy Wars'. 

All of this is well, good, fine and all peachy, but something felt missing throughout all of this... but you can't put your finger on what....

You kept telling yourself it was a problem for you of another day, but that other day kept coming, and they weren't slowing down anytime soon. So you decided to look for a REAL job, a 9-5, a corporate scheme for capitalist jackoffs, a way of financial support.

This led you down a pretty long path, from attempting to work under the V's, to disposing of bodies, to trying to fix Mcdonalds ice cream machines, to other stuff, but none of it was hitting that need.

You were starting to lose hope that you'd ever scratch your itch for satisfaction and overall enjoyment of yourself, until one fateful day...

(After a few weeks of trying to find a job.)
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Y/N: "...Shit man, this is really getting tedious..." You say, looking online for more job applications.

Y/N: "Sometimes I wish an opportunity would just come out of its way then SMACK me in the face." This. My friends, is what we writers call foreshadowing, and to an extent, Irony.

You lightly sulked to yourself until you decided to just give up for the day, besides, you've got a gig to get to in a few minutes, so why should you complain?

Now, one of the biggest things about you going to the concerts is choosing your guitar, the setlist, and what outfit you decide to wear. It's also one of the most TEDIOUS aspects of being a performer.

Y/N: "Hm... maybe I should choose Ol' Reliable?" You say, looking over to your ESP EX-201 model, your signature guitar.

 maybe I should choose Ol' Reliable?" You say, looking over to your ESP EX-201 model, your signature guitar

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Y/N: "Nah, it needs a restring anyways." You say, looking at how the top string is broken, you still haven't replaced it. Lazy bastard.

Y/N: "Maybe Lucy?" You then turn your attention to your Les Paul Custom, you named it Lucy because your old bandmate Lucy gave it to you while you were still alive. You got it by going back to earth for a day.

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