The sounds of sirens filled the night, and broken glass shimmered red and blue like shards of ice scattered across the floor, but the burglar was already well away from the scene. As the cops were pulling into the jewelry store parking lot, he was huffing and puffing in some back alley, admiring his score. His old man always said he was a washout, a no good bum, and he was certainly right, but with a bag full of goods like this even a no good bum could get something to eat. Dear old dad could think on that as he lay in his grave, feeding worms.
The man in the alley was nothing special, just another piece of trash that got washed into the gutters, some regular Joe Shmoe who caught a run of bad luck and started taking whatever he needed. He was nobody at all, and not much good at anything but robbery. But before he was a nobody, he was just a kid named Jackie Wurthers.
As the vermin crawling through the alley looked on, Jackie sorted through his winnings. He was so engrossed with his ill-gotten riches, he didn't even notice the man leaning on the wall at the far end of his alley. The stranger was wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt, a red tie, and was drinking a glass of red whine, looking for all the world as if he belonged in some upscale resort, not in the city's underbelly. His skin was the color of copper, his hair was like coal, and his eyes, grey as morning mist, were watching the jewelry thief like a snake might watch a mouse.
"That's quite a collection you've got there," He said in a smooth, flowing voice, even toned, polite, and foreboding. "Though, if I know your type, it's not near enough." He took a sip of the wine as Jackie turned with a start and cursed in surprise. The burglar pulled a knife from his pocket, and brandished it threateningly, but the stranger seemed not to notice.
"Who the hell are you? You want a piece of this you can just forget about it man." The stranger took a step forward, and despite himself Jackie took a step back. A small chuckle escaped the stranger's lips, no doubt amused by the thief's false bravado.
"Oh have no fear on that account; I have no need for your money. In fact, I have a proposition for you. A way for you to make much, much more." Jackie looked nervous, but there were dollar signs in his eyes, and the knife was lowering. "That's better, my friend. You may call me Vincent. I do hope you accept my offer." His smug grin never faltered or changed as Jackie put up his knife.
"Well, whatever you've got to say, I'll hear it. Name's Jackie."
Vincent's smile widened. "Oh I know who you are, Mr. Wurthers. I know you're a homeless, desperate man, and a very good thief. You have nothing to lose, my friend, and stand to gain quite a lot if you agree to do as you say. The world shall dance in your hands when we are done." Vincent walked to the end of the alleyway, and beckoned Jackie to follow him.
"To put it simply, I am in a bit of a contest. If I defeat my opposition, then there is little in this world that will be beyond my reach. However, I can not compete alone, for every one of us must have a partner. That is what I need from you. The goal is to kill or capture all others."
"Wait, what? I may be a robber, but I ain't no killer!" Jackie stepped away, turned and ran toward the alley. Just as he got up to speed, he slammed into a barrier of some sort. When he looked, nothing was there, but he put up his hand, and felt a wall where he saw nothing but air. "What in the hell…"
"Exactly, my friend. I am just coming from there actually. My rivals will be here soon, and if you want the promise of safety from them I am your best bet. If we win, I will make you the richest man in this world." Vincent was standing over him now, offering a hand to pull him to his feet. Jackie just sat for a moment, feeling as if the blood had frozen in his veins.
"And… and say we lose? You expect me to get killed for you? Fat chance of that, buddy." Despite his brave words, Jackie made no move to rise. Deep in his heart, fear was eating at him, slowly. "What do you want from me, eh? Are you going to steal my soul or something like that?" The demon just smiled.
"Oh, because that is such a valuable thing to you? Look at yourself, Wurthers. You're just a thief, a vagabond. You are nothing, but I can give you the world on a platter. So, if we don't win, you really have nothing to lose. You have no life, your soul is wasted on you, and not worthy of me in the first place. Take my hand, Jackie, and make yourself something. Or I'll leave, and you can get back to lying in the dirt, being meaningless. I'll look for you among the ruined corpses filling the streets once the others arrive."
Jackie was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been. The terror was choking him, killing him. He wanted to close his eyes, go to sleep, to go far away inside his head and realize this was all a hallucination. He opened his eyes, and those grey, misty pits wee still drilling into him. Jackie too a breath, and thought hard, going over all the reasons he needed the money, and all the reasons he wanted to make this being go away. He thought for a long while, and then he had his answer. He reached up, and took Vincent's hand.
Vincent smiled wickedly, and pulled him up, squeezing hard. Jackie had to cry out as sharp claws dug into his arm, drawing blood. Vincent drew his hand away, and the blood continued to flow. It flowed out of Jackie's arm, off of the demon's nails, and began to swirl and slither in the air. Slowly it formed words, like a floating scroll with no parchment. On and on the blood flowed, until Jackie was feeling so lightheaded he couldn't read the words. When it was written out, Vincent clapped his hands and it vanished.
"Well, now that all of that is settled, follow me." Vincent turned, walked to the wall of a nearby building, and touched his hand flat to the bricks. Where the wall had been, there now was an open doorway, dark as midnight. Vincent stepped through without a glance back. Jackie hesitated for an instant, and then followed.
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First section done, more to come, see you all soon!
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