Lucifer

Chapter 1

  It was that damned humans fault. I was so close to getting what I wanted, too! God, I hate him. Oh, sorry. Im Lucifer. Im not really a people person. Probably because Im not human. Im from hell. Now I know that there are a lot of stories about me. My name probably changed a lot, but they were based off of me. Im not friendly, especially if I'm tipped off. Black hair, black hoodie, black jeans, blue eyes, white skin, I look like your average COKEHEAD!!! I live in Chicago on earth. Dont get me wrong, I LOVE it here, but sometimes people... try me. Like that skinny ass man that tried to pull the ghat on me. I killed him. Now before you go all OOH HE KILLED HIM WITH SATAN MAGIC!!! I didnt. I just killed him with my M1911. Thats a pistol for you thots. I cant use that magic on earth. I only use it if I have too. In fact, I only kill if I have to. Im not a genocidal maniac. Actually, Im quite the opposite. Ive been feeling pretty deppresed lately. The other day I put my M1 to my head and pretended to pull the trigger. 

  "Bang." I said, laughing as I threw the gun across my apartment. I really shouldnt do that, I said to myself. That gun goes off and Im facing jailtime. I walk over, making sure that the safety is still on. Thank god it was still on. Got lucky. I turn up my music in my apartment. I listen to what the humans call "Rap". It is beautiful. Lots of them are good, but this one man from nearby Detroit by the name of Eminem is my favorite. But let me talk about how the next day went.

  Today I woke up, put on my headphones, put on D12, Devils Night, my favorite album. I grabbed my M1 and headed out the door, turned around realizing I forgot my wallet, and then I got in my car. I put the gun in the glove compartment, knowing that if the police pull me over, Im fucked if its out in the open. My car is a Dodge Challenger, blood red with a black stripe. Driving around, I notice all of the different areas of Chicago. Rich, poor, and everything in between are in this city. I need to go get some shit to eat.  A hungry demon is a mean demon. Brents deli is awesome. I gab myself a sub sandwich, and walk out. Near the edge of my vision, I see three guys hop out. All of them got their hands in their hoodie pockets. This is trouble, I say to myself as I turn around and briskly walk to my car. Sandwich now, men later. I unlock my car and ty to hop in as quick as possible. I start the car and I hear it.

  "Knock knock." Thug number one said. He had a red beanie and a black hoodie. The two men flanking him had similar colors. Fucking gangsters. Thug number two had a face tattoo. Tribal tattoo. Ugly as fuck. Thug number three had a hoodie that said "Detroit Pistons". The local NBA team. Thug #1 leaned into my open car window.

  "Why dont you open up and we can take a little ride togetha in this here beauty of a car?" He said with an obviously fake Chicago accent.

  "Id rather not. Anyone who rolls with a guy with a ugly ass face tat is automatically trouble." I said as I start to roll up my car window.

  "Do it." thug number one muttered. The two other thugs pull out Glocks. The glock is a reliable short range pistol. Saying that im 2 feet away, that gun is prett-ee reliable. By this time, Im reaching for the glove compartment. Somehow, I grab my M1 and pull the trigger. At the same time, Ive got my foot on the gas and Im driving like hell down the road. They shoot my back windshield out.

 "Shitshitshitshitshit." I say as I hear them start running after me. By then I'm gone. I pull up to my apartment building, run upstairs, and lock the doors. Im safe for... mmmmmmmaybey a couple hours. I need to do something, fast. So I get to work.