Demonic Light

Prologue

He was waiting at an all-night petrol station and diner when Slithers got there. He jumped down from the cab of the truck, his wellingtons squelching in the freshly-churned mud. It was raining heavily, the orange light of a nearby street light making it appear as if it was raining sparks. The stinging drops bounced off the side of the truck, which read "CHARLSTON BREWERY: FINEST BEER IN THE WORLD" But this truck wasn't carrying beer - far from it, in fact.

Slithers lowered the tailgate of the truck and retrieved a large sack, ignoring the desperate wriggling of the creature within.

Slithers grumbled miserably as he made his way to the figure leaning against the side of the diner. His client had better pay him the promised amount, he thought darkly. Getting what he wanted had been absolute bedlam - his hands, now shrouded in gloves - (in case of being bitten) were covered in burn scars and teeth marks. Most people wouldn't bother going to the trouble of fulfilling the man's strange request, but Slithers had been promised a small fortune. Now it was just a question of getting it.

He arrived directly in front of his client, who never removed the hat and scarf that concealed most of his face. Only his eyes were visible, and they were a toxic green. At first he said nothing, but then, his words sent a shudder down Slithers' spine - his voice sounded like nails scraping along a blackboard.

"Did you get it?"

Slithers nodded. The man reached out for the wriggling sack, but Slithers pushed his hand away firmly.

"Not until I gets me money!"

The man made an irritated growling sound in his throat, but he handed over a wad of notes before snatching the bag. Slithers counted his money carefully, and had a nasty surprise in store -

"Oi, that's only have of what you said I was getting!" His client laughed.

"I didn't like to take risks. Word on the street is, you aren't the most trustworthy dealer around, Slithers." he spat.

"You might've brought me damaged goods, which would be very bad for you indeed... Something as valuable as this can't be damaged. And if it's damaged, I will know. And I will find you."

"YOU! GIVE ME MY MONEY, YOU FILTHY LYING -"

Slithers had raised his fist, but he was silenced by the sight of a wickedly sharp blade held millimetres away from the bridge of his nose.

"I am Doctor Folter, and you would be unwise to tangle with me. Now, get out."

The blade was withdrawn, and Slithers sprinted back to the truck before the fruit-loop decided to go after him. As he started the van a few moments later, he looked at where his client had been standing- and there was nobody there. Only a small fire exactly where he should have been standing.