The Devil Wants a Refund

Prologue

On a brisk autumn evening, Apollo was sitting on a stump in the woods, just enjoying life. Enjoying the smell of maple trees, the occasional warm wind blowing on his face, and the fact that pretty soon, it would never stop. Why would it never end, you ask? Well because directly in front of Apollo, there was a rune, in the middle of the woods, untouched by man. Now, most runes were just signs that meant things like good fortune or bad luck. This rune, however, was a gateway. A gateway to hell. Apollo had just realized in that moment that he was likely the only human to get this close to hell and have the ability to just walk away. This made Apollo feel powerful, but he needed to get to work. He got up from his stump, cleaned off dust from his jacket, pulled out his multi-tool, and cut a quarter inch deep slice in his right palm with the knife. The cut on his hand shook Apollo for a moment. Seeing it gave him an instinctive fear response. But the feeling of purpose drove those thoughts away, as he puts his dripping blood above the rune lines. The blood hit the rune and balled up like water on wax paper. Then it sizzled; bubbling and boiling like the will that lead Apollo to this moment. The lines began glowing from the spot of blood outward.

The glowing rune amazed Apollo, though, not because it looked nice, but because he was trying to figure out what luminescent reaction was taking place. While his mind raced with possible chemical mixtures containing blood that might produce light, the glowing rune began spitting out flames, and a silhouette appeared in the center and began walking outwards toward Apollo. Apollo realized this and began reaching into his satchel, pulling out a piece of paper.

A voice as smooth as steel groans from within the flames, "Who dares dist..." Until Apollo shoves a piece of paper in it's face.

"What's this, mortal?" The demon says as he takes it from Apollo and reads it.

"It's a contract, I know how you love deals, Devil." Apollo states, with slight aggressive emphasis on devil.

The magma-red creature finishes reading the page and looks up. "I see... But this flimsy mortal paper won't do for such an agreement."

Apollo glares "What do you suggest."

"It's quite simple, really. A conversion is needed." The Devil says this right before setting the paper aflame with a snap of his fingers.

Apollo's eyes widen with worry. "What are you doing?"

"Worry not, fleshling." 

The flames dissipate and the printed paper he had been holding transformed into a 19th century curled piece of parchment, and a quill appeared in its other hand with a burst of fire.

Apollo gives a distrustful glare. "Let me see the contract."

It grinned, showing rows of slick, shiny obsidian teeth. "Of course."

Apollo examines the paper. "What are these lines in the background?"

"It was just on fire, what do you think they are."

Apollo gave the lines on last look. "Hmm, well do you agree with the terms?"

The Devil looks up and his fiendish smile widens further than his face should have allowed. "Yes, all that's needed now is a handshake."

Apollo puts his hand out. "I'm glad it went smoothly."

The Devil does the same. "I concur." It claims in a deep gravelly purr.

Apollo touches his hand, it was course, there were clearly runes etched into his hand, and it was... warm, suddenly, then warmer, then suddenly flame came out of the ground and engulfed him. It burned, hotter than any burn he had felt. He tried to roll around to put it out, and then... he woke up, in his room, like he had this morning, but something was off, his palm was itchy. He itched and itched it more, and when the itch wasn't going away he looked at his hand, but there was something etched into it, a capital D in cursive with something in the middle. It was real, it finally happened. 

He could finally live forever.