Michael looked down from his perch, surveying the town square; it was usually bustling with life during the afternoon, but it was still morning. Barely a soul crossed the brick pavement, allowing the demon some quiet to plot his next move.
He felt the other demon's presence, watching Michael and waiting for a mistake. It unnerved him to no end, knowing he was so close to going back to hell.
Then, he spotted his target. Michael flew down and onto the human's shoulder, waiting for an opportunity to ruin the man. Information began to run through his mind: name, age, interests, weaknesses, fears.
Tom Helley wanted to die and pretty fucking soon.
Michael gulped, feeling lifeless, unforgiving eyes on his back. He couldn't afford to lose to one of the angels.
The red-haired demon wasn't sure if he could do it though; it had been too long, and he felt rusty. He also felt guilt, but he pushed it aside and chalked it up to those damn angels rubbing off on him. Demons didn't care about shit like this, so why was Michael struggling on this human's shoulder? Death wasn't foreign to him or Tom, apparently.
Why? Why? Why?
Michael growled his command harshly, unable to hide his frustration. "Go to the lake."
Tom Helley quickly left the square, shuffling down the sidewalk like a zombie. The demon shifted from one foot to the other, willing himself to relax under such scrutiny, but his body wouldn't follow instructions as his palms began to sweat.
Michael felt even more frustrated; he was a damn mess and figured the other demon had already known that. The red-haired demon bit his lip a bit too hard, blood trickling down his chin. He wiped it away, the dull (practically nonexistent) sting instantly fading.
Tom reached the edge of the forest, still quite far from the lake. Michael's stomach churned, further egging his anger at the way his body seemed to betray him.
The demon remembered a time when he loved creating chaos, even lived and breathed for it as a human. He recalled craving destruction in any form he could manage, but now, it was like a fading dream - a lifetime ago. When the shift occurred, Michael couldn't pinpoint. It had been such a long stretch from his last assignment that he felt the moment he decided not to go into town was when he couldn't do it anymore.
But Michael had to now, and it was tearing him up inside, like he would split right down the middle - a good and evil half.
Tom Helley was still walking, lifeless as if already dead. The human was already resigned to his fate and didn't need much convincing. The demon didn't know how he felt about it. Where was the angel? Where was the other side to Tom's conscience?
Michael turned to openly stare at the demon that had been following him relentlessly. "What the fuck do you want?" He challenged, shocked to see the same demon that taunted him the most when in hell. Of course, Lucifer would send that fucking prick.
"Boo," the demon with strange, winding antlers teased, sharp teeth sinister in the smirk he wore.
