The Many Faces of Evil

Many faiths will tell you that death is not the end. The Sumerians would have told you that when you died, you would spend eternity drinking dust and eating rocks, wearing feathers like birds while the gods laughed at you from paradise, spitting on the the crowns of kings. The Egyptians would have told you that you must prepare for trials when crossing the Duat, and to be pure of heart, lest you be judged wrongly and fail to join your friends in a perfect world. Essentially all religions tell you to live a good life, because odds are you'll end up in some shit-hole for the rest of eternity. You die once, yes? What about death after death? What happens when a soul is destroyed in an afterlife? Is it sent to a second afterlife? Does it no longer exist?

Oh, but there are many things that people are not meant to understand.

***

Etasiel twirled around, pressing both of his blades against mine. I knocked them away, swinging for my own strike. He parried with one sword, then went for my head with the other. I ducked, kicking his legs from underneath him, then plunging Solaris down for the kill. The bastard rolled out of the way, leaving nothing but cobblestone for my sword to strike. He rose to one knee, blocking my next crazy hit and swung his second sword over his head, meeting mine. He followed up by alternating swords in a pinwheel strike that left me blocking left and right. I stepped out of the way, catching Etasiel off-balance on a swing. I'm not awfully proud of what I do doing fights, but war is dirty. That being said, my I kicked right between the demon's legs, eliciting a scream of pain. I flicked my wrist-blade out and plunged it into the side of his throat.

"You could have just bent over and let me behead you," I commented. "It would have been easier on both of us."

"And you cannot imagine what awaits me," my target wheezed, hanging on to life, ignoring the mortal wound. "We will meet again."

With that, I kicked the corpse away and continued through the palace, vaporizing any guards that attempted to challenge me; I was in no mood to fight.

What had Etasiel meant by what awaited him? How would we meet again? Perhaps crazy bastards are just crazy bastards. I shrugged this off as I slammed the throne room doors open. Drawn swords met me and were soon relieved of their owners with a flick of my hand. A slight figure stood on the dais at the end of the hall. He turned and smiled at me, his horns glinting in the torchlight.

"Very impressive, Daniel," Urebor chuckled. "You are a fine warrior. Your father and your mentor would be proud."

"When villains complement the hero, bad shit's about to happen," I pointed out, drawing my sword. It began to glow as I let my angelic half of my power flow through it.

"Very perceptive," the demon commented, pacing in front of Satan's luxurious seat. "But how are you the hero? You are a murderer, all you do is kill. I have freed a people from oppression. You have come to kill me for that. I understand how you would justify your actions, but good and evil are matters of perspective. In short, there are no such things. We are human to imagine the difference between actions. To transcend to true figures of religion, we must cast off our opinionated views of what others do compared to ourselves. There is no good nor evil, only people whose actions are open to interpretation.

"And I interpret your actions as hostile and threatening to my life. But not evil. You are not evil and nor am I."

"This is Hell," I argued. "We are the ultimate house of evil. Perhaps there are different theories on our existence, but we are what drags humanity to sin, to do evil so that they may be punished, and that cannot be argued. Evil takes many forms, including perspective, but it definitely exists. There are many faces of evil, and I'm one of the more attractive ones."

"You can never be evil," Urebor spat back. "You are still half angel."

"I'm a demon in an angel's body," I corrected. "With the powers of both. I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back."

"Then let it be your right hand if your left is demonic," Urebor challenged. "Flames cannot harm me. You challenge me, and I accept. Have at thee!"

"You're a particularly ugly and stained face of evil," I stated, readying my sword.

A hand came down on my head, stunning me for a moment. I fell to the ground and rolled over, disoriented. When my vision cleared, I saw Etasiel standing over me, black blood still flowing from his destroyed throat.

"I killed you," I muttered, attempting to stand.

Etasiel stood there, looking dumbly at me. What...?

"You killed him," Urebor laughed, stepping down from the dais, "but he is still mine."

"What are you?" I asked, looking at the walking corpse before me.

"Technically, I never did anything," Urebor explained, walking circles around the two of us. "You did cut out his throat, so he can no longer speak. What happened to him, was that he died, but was sent back under my control. Oh, and you'll love what I have next for you."

I recognized that ugly face anywhere; Baal walked through the entrance smirking dumbly.

"What the fuck?" I growled, gripping my throbbing skull.

"You have no power over us," Baal growled, tossing his short blade between his hands. "Perhaps, when you're rotting in Tartarus, you will regret your actions."

"I don't feel regret," I spat, turning suddenly to put Solaris through Etasiel's skull. The blade plunged through, rocking his head back until his neck broke with a sick snapping noise. I pulled out the sword and stepped back, expecting to see him fall.

What Etasiel did, however, was rock his head back to face me, blood drizzling down from the wound on his head. He then inhaled deeply, his black eyes turning red, and spat a mouthful of blood on the ground. I turned away in disgust as some of the liquid stuck in strings from his opened maw.

"Destroy him," Urebor ordered, walking away.

I quickly decapitated Etasiel, then chopped off the remaining limbs just in case. Baal approached me, his short blade raised menacingly. I blasted him with a great beam of angelic energy. His charred skeleton fell to the ground rather unceremoniously.

Urebor looked back at his servants' quick demises and approached me once again.

"You sick fuck," he spat, gesturing to the havoc I had just wreaked. "What are you that can conquer the indestructible?"

"I am Daniel, son of Saint Michael, student of Lord Beelzebub, and Sentinel Aide to Lord Satan," I stated, energy pulsing about the right half of my body and flames licking the left half. "I am also the guy who will shove this blade up your ass if I have to. Or would you prefer a swifter death?"

"Look at me, I'm a smart-ass," Urebor mocked. "Honestly, man, have you no shame?"

"Yes, I have shame," I chuckled. "If I started singing opera in a library, I would feel like a bit of a jackass. What I do not possess is a conscience, a loss I enjoy exploiting."

I extended my blade, merely tapping my enemy with the tip as my full fury lanced up the blade and blasted Urebor to pieces. Do it quick, make it simple; I loved being powerful.

***

"Mom, who are they?" Beryl asked, peeking down the stairs.

"Beryl, please," Lillian sighed. "Stay in your room."

"It's been a week since we issued that order," Belphegor sighed. "Would Daniel just please hurry up?"

"Shut up and let him take his time," Michael sighed. "Warriors have their methods."

"Yes, well I trained him to be faster," Beelzebub growled, crossing his arms.

Beryl stood at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, listening to the conversation below. It seemed that her brother was in some sort of trouble for something or other.

"Your television programming is horrible," Lucifer pointed out. "I can't quite seem to find my show."

"We don't air it," Michael explained.

"Well why the fuck not!" the prideful demon cried, throwing the remote to the ground.

"Calm down," Leviathan growled. "God knows, you're the loudest of all of us. Dumb piece of shit."

There came a knock at the door. Lillian answered it and was met by her precious son. She cried out in joy and hugged him, disregarding the blood on his robe.

"Daniel!" Satan cried, leaping from his sofa. "How did the mission go?"

"Worst. Fucking. Week. Ever," I stated, breaking my mother's iron grip to step into the house.

"But the revolution is over, yes?" Mammon asked. "We can have our kingdom back. 'Cause I'd really like it back."

"Yeah, it's over," I answered. "Urebor and his goons are dead." I explained the clusterfuck that had happened back down in the palace.

"Well, let's go home!" Asmodeus cried.

Everyone shuffled out the door except for Beelzebub, who stood and brooded for a moment.

"That boy is much too powerful," he muttered, pacing around the living room. "He could take my position in a matter of days. An angel being a Prince of Hell. Bah. Can't have that. Have to do something about it. But what?"

Beryl walked down the stairs, surprising the demon. However, she had completely ignored him and ran out to meet her family.

"Oh, Mother, Father!" she cried, hugging her parents. "Brother is safe?"

"Fairly," I answered, standing two meters away from the embrace. The little princess didn't possess the will to hug her own brother.

"Beryl," Lillian said, "you really shouldn't be out here. These people aren't really the type you want to hang with."

"Okay," my sister said. "You mind if I go meet my friends in the park?"

"Sure," Michael replied, kissing his daughter on the forehead before sending her off.

What the hell was that? Miss Perfect gets to do whatever she wants, but I can't walk into my family's house without being thoroughly frisked? ...Little bitch.

But Hell was my home, and I would be glad to return to it. It was a place where I could live in peace without persecution or suspicion. And, as far as I was concerned, it would remain that way.

Right?

Yeah, why not?