Everything in Creation is governed and bound by Laws;

Heaven and Hell are no exception.

In times when Demons refuse to comply,

When the actions of the rogues jeopardise the balance,

Hell sends their ancient and most dangerous spawn;

The Contractor…

Act VI – The Scientist

“Day 761 - 04/07/2006

“Alexander has just opened his first novel, ‘Great Expectations’ by Charles Dickens and already he is mouthing his lips to the words of such a complex story. I do admit, when I first started the research on my own son, I did not expect such abnormal findings; Al is not like most other two year olds and I fear that his psychological development may not be applicable to the normal populace.

“But speaking personally, I think that Al may show signs of accelerated learning. If only his mother were here to see him, I think she would have been able to come up with a theory as to how and why Al is so gifted.

“Earlier in the day, Al was playing with Peek-a-Blocks and ordered roughly 30 blocks by species. He then pointed to each and every one of them and started reciting the phylum, genus and kingdom in Latin.

“Truly my son is a child prodigy; I hope that he maintains this level of thirst for knowledge in his older years. Perhaps my research of Al will yield a catalyst for higher learning in young children.”

Dr Nikolas Rausz

PhD in Developmental Psychology and Human Biology

Sitting at his old, wooden kitchen table in a large estate in Stuttgart was a tired old man, sipping his third cup of ‘Café Hag’ instant coffee. His hands were shaking as he brought the bitter brew to his lips, not noticing his white beard dipping into his beverage.

His wrinkled eyes travelled from the white coffee mug in his hands to his lavish lounge room before finally setting on the commemorative name-plate that his late wife Anke had made for him after he graduated from ‘Heidelberg University’: ‘Doctor Nikolas Rausz’.

The old man, Nikolas Rausz, took a deep breath and jumped slightly as the antique, mahogany grandfather clock struck eleven o’clock in the evening. He placed his head onto the table and tried to fight his heavying eyelids as he felt the warm feeling of sleep wash over him.

He awoke finally as he heard a loud rustling sound enter the room.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said a cold, sardonic voice behind him, ‘traffic’s a bitch.’

Startled, Rausz’s flailing arms knocked his mug off the table. He turned around quickly and found himself staring into the blood-red eyes of an ebon-haired man wearing a very long, crimson trench coat.

‘Herr… Herr Faust!’ He exclaimed. ‘You’re here.’

‘You were expecting someone else?’ Faust replied rhetorically.

‘N-no, I just –‘

‘Let’s just get on with it.’ Faust interrupted. ‘Section 49 of the “Pacts to Hell Act” ante bellum requires me to stipulate the terms of the contract before its final execution.’ From within his crimson trench coat, he pulled out an old, brown parchment and unfurled it. ‘At midnight, Nikolas, it would have been seven years and your soul will be forfeited to Belphegor.’

‘Meine gute!’ Rausz gasped. ‘Seven years have gone by so fast.’

‘Seven years have gone by in seven years Nikolas,’ Faust stated bluntly, ‘slow or fast, it’s almost time for you to give up your soul. Do you understand what happens after that?’

‘Ja,’ he replied quietly, ‘I will… cease being myself.’ He took another deep breath. ‘But I am ready; I had a good seven years with my son. We have made so much progress together.’

Faust nodded disinterestedly, paying little attention to the doctor’s anecdotes.

‘Would you like to see him? Would you like to see my little Al?’

‘Fine.’ He followed Rausz through the marble lined hallway and up a tiled set of stairs. Rausz’s shaky hands gripped the platinum bannisters as they spiralled up the magnificent, pearly steps before walking through a carpeted hallway.

‘Here we are.’ Rausz pointed to a white door with a variation of ‘Vaska’s Complex’ formula crudely drawn with crayon. He knocked on the door softly. ‘Al? Can we come in?’

A quiet and muffled, ‘Yes papa’, was heard through the door.

Faust followed the doctor slowly into the room to see a young boy lying on the carpet of his bedroom floor, drawing complex maths equations while listening to a rendition of ‘Macbeth’ blaring through the speakers. ‘Papa,’ the young boy, Alexander, said concernedly, ‘you should not be up so late.’ He sniffed the air. ‘And drinking coffee this late may aggravate your cardiac dysrhythmia and trigger a tachycardia. You know this papa!’

Nikolas Rausz let out a hearty laugh. ‘Al, I am supposed to the one worrying about you, not the other way around.’

‘How can I when you show a complete disregard for your health papa?’ Al defended.

Rausz was speechless for a moment and stared at his shoes ashamedly. ‘Al,’ he said finally, ‘I would like you to meet an associate of mine; Mister Faust.’

Faust entered the room and stood with his back to the wall without saying a word.

‘It’s nice to meet you Herr Faust.’ Al said politely. Faust nodded in acknowledgment. ‘What businesses have you with my father?’

Rausz began to panic. ‘Now Al, you mustn’t ask ab-‘

‘Just debt collection.’ Faust stated bluntly. ‘I’m hired to retrieve things that belong to other people.’

Al blinked innocently and turned to his father. ‘Papa, can I have a glass of warm milk and a small strudel for supper. It’s late and I should prepare for sleep.’

‘Of course you can child.’ Rausz then turned to Faust. ‘I’ll only just be a moment.’ He said as he exited the room, leaving the Contractor alone with the young German boy.

Faust looked around the overly-large and extravagant bedroom, fully aware the young Al was watching him intently.

‘You’re not very talkative are you?’ Al stated, cutting through the silence.

‘We don’t have much to say to each other kid.’ Faust returned.

‘Oh, but I think we have plenty, Nyxanoth Faust.’ The young child replied, with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Faust's blood red eyes fell upon the intriguing nine-year-old before him, saying not a word and peering into the child's eyes. Before long, the child's lips parted again and spoke.

'I know who you are.' He stated knowingly. ‘Or rather… what you are.’

'Oh? And what am I kid?' Faust asked unamused.

'You're a denizen of Hell, but you're no demon. No… If my research is correct, you must be the fabled Contractor; Hell’s oldest and most powerful weapon.'

Faust was unsurprised by Al's remark. 'If you know who I am, then you must know why I’m here.'

'If I'm not mistaken, and I never am,' the child began, 'you are here to reap the soul of someone who was foolish enough to strike a deal with you.'

'And you're not afraid?'

'Fear is an absence of knowledge and there is nothing of this world in that I am not proficient, Contractor; I fear nothing.'

‘You can fear death.’

Al sat up and folded his tiny arms. ‘Well when you say it like that Herr Faust, it sounds like a threat. But I know that according to the laws set down by the Creator and enforced by His Angels, you cannot harm me; you cannot harm anything of this realm.’

‘I don’t hurt humans regardless, least of all a smart-ass for a kid.’ Faust replied coldly. ‘But for all your worldly knowledge, you’re still just a kid; pricks on the playground will still take your lunch money and bigger kids will still always stuff you into lockers. So what makes you think it’s wise to be mouthing off as though you’re all-invincible?’

Al picked himself up and ran over to his bed. He peeled back the large picture of ‘Albert Einstein’ that sat on the taupe walls and revealed a small, circular hole, no bigger than an adult thumb. He then dug his small fingers into the hole and produced a vial filled with a silvery-blue liquid, secured with a glass stopper.

‘Did you just put ‘Wizz Fizz’ in ‘Sprite’ and cram it into a vial?’ Faust asked sarcastically.

Al ignored him. ‘Like my father, I share a natural curiosity about the world; science, the advancer of humanity. But unlike my father, I was born naturally gifted about the workings of our universe.’

‘Translation: you’re very, very smart. I got that.’

‘Using my own talents, and no others’, I have created this; an elixir of immortality.’ He said, pompously waving the vial in the air.

Faust gave him a very perturbed look; standing before him, without any semblance of adulthood, was a nine year old that will live forever. He folded his arms and stared at Al. ‘So what now? You market that off to some big conglomerate and live your life as a king?’

Al let out a childish, mocking laugh. ‘And earn the ire of the Black Princes of Hell for giving humanity immortality en masse? Do you take me for a fool Contractor? No, if I can exist eternally, I can unlock deeper, darker secrets of our realm and perhaps one day transcend humanity.’

The Contractor glared at the child. ‘You want to be a God?’

‘My wishes are not so shallow; I wish to be the God of Gods. My knowledge shall surpass even the Creator’s.’

‘And what makes you think the Creator would bow to you? An arrogant, snot-nosed little shit.’

‘Hmph… look around you Faust; our world is decaying, dying and the almighty Creator is nowhere in sight? Where is He to correct the flaws of His design?’

‘The Universe was created and left to its own –‘

‘To its own design? If I helped father a child and left it to ‘its own design’ would I be doing it any favours, or would I be negligent?’

‘That’s completely –‘

‘Mankind needs their hands held Faust; it is a race of stupid, selfish, hateful and spiteful people. Without a proper leader and proper dogmata, they will surely be responsible for their own extinction.’

‘And you reckon that you should be the one to govern them? You… a shitty little kid?’

‘I may be a child, but I have done what many other before have failed to do; I have unlocked the secrets to being omnipotent and I am one step closer to being a God.’

‘You know,’ Faust stated, folding his arms unamused, ‘you’re not the first human who has ever thought that they were closer to a God than others.’

Al shrugged and climbed back onto his bed, tucking the vial back into its hiding spot. ‘That is true, but after I am done, I will be the last and I will show all the simpletons on Earth that I am better than everyone else, vater!’

Faust chuckled condescendingly. ‘So this is what it’s all about; you just want to get back at daddy.’

‘No I –‘

‘You wanna prove that you’re better than him?’

‘It’s not about –‘

‘You think you’re smarter than your old man?’

‘I know I’m smarter than that old man!’ Al burst suddenly. ‘No matter what I do, no matter what I have done, he still sees it as some sort of childish, developmental phase that I go through; “oh aren’t you talented Al, oh look at the particles you drew Al”, it’s disgusting how patronising he is!’ Al slammed his adolescent hands onto his bed post. ‘I’m glad you’re taking him from me.’

‘Do you know what will happen after I take his soul?’ Faust asked cautiously.

Al stared dangerously at Faust. ‘When you reap his soul, Contractor, he will cease caring about me and he will see my accomplishments from a purely logical standpoint. He shall finally acknowledge that my work is far superior to his in every way!’ Al’s eyes began to well with a sea of angry tears; he quickly turned his head away from Faust and wiped his eyes furiously. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour by taking his soul Herr Faust.’

‘You don’t even know why I’m taking his soul.’ Faust defended.

‘I know exactly why!’ He jumped off his bed and ran over to his desk in the corner of the room and opened his laptop, rapidly hammering away at the keys until he found an article. He picked up his laptop and raised the screen to Faust’s face. ‘Here; a few years ago, my father made excellent strides in the field of neuropsychology and research coming just a stone’s throw away from unlocking the secrets to memory invocation. Before then, he was struggling with obtaining funding and grants because his research was spiralling down the drain.’

‘You don’t think that he came up with a solution all by himself?’ Faust replied as Al shut the laptop face violently.

‘That simple relic could never have discovered something like this in a thousand years; obviously he had to have sold his soul.’

Faust opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps coming from the hallway and the smiling face of Doctor Rausz walking into the room holding a silver tray with Al’s supper. ‘Now make sure you finish all the milk and go to bed Al, I must continue my business with Mister Faust in the lounge room.’

Al nodded and took the tray from his father, setting it down onto his bedspread. ‘Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Faust,’ he said, staring at Faust intriguingly, ‘I will see you again.’

Faust stood, staring at Doctor Rausz as he sat on the couch of his lavish lounge room, his shaking hands eagerly clutching onto yet another cup of bitter-black coffee.

‘You’re scared.’ Faust stated obviously.

Rausz nodded, taking a slow sip of his drink. ‘I am just now thinking about the ramifications of my actions.’

‘Don’t you think it’s too late to be lamenting your actions Herr Doctor?’

‘Yes I… forgive me Contractor; I cannot help but think about my little Al and how much I will be taking from him.’

‘What are you taking from him?’

‘Propinquity,’ Rausz answered definitively, ‘sharing a bond through our love of science; discovering new developments in the field of neuroscience and perhaps even one day unlocking the secrets of the brain.’

‘As per your agreement with Belphegor, don’t you think you can achieve that now?’

Rausz shook his head fervently. ‘I am fully aware of our pact, but his abilities have not manifested completely.’ He took another sip. ‘To be quite honest with you Faust, had I not seen a rapid acceleration in his mental development, I would have thought the Black Prince had gone back on his word.’

‘If he did, I wouldn’t be here Rausz.’ Faust said knowingly. ‘As dirty and sorry assholes as they are, they are still bound by Law to uphold any and all contracts made with your kind.’

 ‘My point, Faust, is that even though he is learning at a fantastic rate, his knowledge is nowhere near as developed as mine.’

‘You don’t think he’s as smart as you?’

‘Well, not now; not yet.’ Rausz shrugged. ‘But I am sure that one day he may be.’

‘Yeah, he may one day even unlock the secrets to immortality.’ Faust remarked coldly.

Rausz let out a hearty chuckle. ‘Perhaps.’ He let out a long and longing sigh. ‘I hope he doesn’t miss me too much, Contractor.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’ Faust said bluntly.

‘You know, you never truly bond with another human being as much as you do your own kin; having a son… I don’t think any of my past achievements could measure up. It’s a shame that I won’t be able to feel this way after tonight.’

‘Okay, that’s it;’ Faust suddenly exclaimed, ‘I’ve had enough of your fidelity bullshit!’

Rausz jumped in his seat as he listened to the angered Contractor.

‘You keep telling me that you love your kid, that you wish you had more time with him? Then use that smart-ass brain of yours, invent a time machine and go back to the day when you met Belphegor so you can punch yourself in the face and stop this fucking deal.’ Faust was breathing heavily. ‘Maybe then you can raise a normal son with a normal brain instead of rearing a megalomaniac.’

‘M-megalomaniac?’ Rausz asked confusedly. ‘You mean my little Al? You think… there’s something wrong with him?’

‘I think there’s something seriously wrong with his fucking father! Who the fuck will make a deal to change a two-year-old?’

‘A father!’ Rausz defended, jumping to his feet angrily and matching the Contractor’s temper. ‘A father who loves his son! I want him not to struggle in life and have the know-how to succeed in whatever he puts his mind to!’

‘And why did you need Hell’s help for that? Why wish for infinite knowledge on a baby?’

‘B-because –‘

‘Because you’re lazy as shit Rausz!’ Faust shouted. ‘Because you wanted your son to be smarter than you so that you don’t have to put in so much effort in your own shit; so that he could do your research for you; so that he can advance your studies and you can still coast off the Rausz name! Why else would the Sloth Prince Belphegor answer your call?’

‘That’s… that’s not true!’ Rausz asserted. ‘I did it because I love my son!’

‘Save your benediction for a priest, Rausz; in a few minutes you’ll stop giving a shit anyway!’

‘I think –‘

Rausz words fell short as the large grandfather clock chimed loudly, signalling midnight. He let out a pained cry as he tore his shirt open, exposing a large, green pentagram inscribed on his chest. It glowed ominously as a low, growling sound emitted from his torso.

Faust stared at the sigil expectantly as he saw the head of a sickly-green wood demon poke through the glowing symbol. Between its rotting and yellowed teeth shone a small, golden orb as the demon clawed its way out of the human’s heaving chest.

It landed on the Persian rug with a dull thud as Rausz’ body fell to ground, completely out cold. The demon stared at Faust curiously.

‘Hand it over.’ Faust demanded dangerously.

The demon nodded its head and obediently walked over to the Contractor, dropping the drool-drenched orb into Faust’s hands and then sitting on the floor, scratching its decayed ear with its hind leg and awaiting his orders.

Faust inspected the soul and pocketed the orb. He then walked over to the unconscious body of Doctor Nikolas Rausz, slumped on the floor and whispered coldly to him. ‘It’s a good thing you don’t give a shit Rausz, because you’ve just created a monster. Now you get to live a comfortable life without the guilt of the calamities you have unleashed upon this world.’

Faust stood up and straightened his crimson trench coat before beckoning to the demon to follow. He walked through the painting-adorned hallway and stopped at the front door, looking back over his shoulder at the grand marble steps and locking eyes with Alexander Rausz, staring back at him intensely.

‘I will see you again Contractor.’ The young boy whispered under his breath.

Faust matched his gaze with his blood-red eyes and whispered back. ‘I know you will.’

He opened wide the double doors and exited the building, the green wood demon bounding behind him happily as they made their way back to the depths of Hell.

And so ends the tale of the Scientist… and the Contractor.

 

Everything in Creation is governed and bound by Laws;

Heaven and Hell are no exception.

In times when Demons refuse to comply,

When the actions of the rogues jeopardise the balance,

Hell sends their ancient and most dangerous spawn;

The Contractor…

Act V – The Orphan

 

“To: June Foster

Subject: Hi mum!

Asr be kheyr mummy and daddy,

How’s everything in London? I hope you’re taking lots of pictures for me, I would love to see what your homeland looks like. Is it true that it rains there like all year round? I couldn’t live in a country like that =P I’m too used to the Persian Heat.

Anywho, I’m writing to you because I think I’ve found a way to locate where my birth parents were buried. Don’t get me wrong, you and daddy have been awesome parents to me but I’m 22 now and I just wanna know my roots, I wanna know what my real mum and dad were like, just to see how my life would have been on the other side of the fence… For closure I guess.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about all this before you left for the UK but to be honest, I just thought about it a few days ago. I found a man who is willing to dig around for me and he should be getting back to me in a few hours.

Anyway, sorry for the short email, but I need petrol for the car. I suspect I might have to travel to Khorramshahr to visit their graves.

Duset daram mummy and daddy!

Leila <3”

‘Come back here you little shit!’

Down the night streets of Tavukane he raced, his crimson trench coat whipping behind him in the wind, as he gave chase to the water demon; the glowing, golden orb clamped in its dribbling, rotting, blue maws.

The demon turned its head and, as its black eyes locked with its pursuer, it let out a mocking laughter.

‘Nimis tardus, Faust! Vos potestis sequi?’ It taunted. The demon leapt high into the air and, with both of its talons outstretched, dove into the ground, leaving behind a small puddle of water as proof of where it disappeared.

The crimson-clad man, Faust, stared at the clear pool of water before he himself, dove headfirst through it. He felt the cool feeling of water washing over his skin as the currents pulled through a dark tunnel. In the distance, he could see a small ray of light shine through the depths of the underground current before his head eventually breached the water’s surface.

Faust found himself climbing out of another puddle and in a strange building. He looked around and surveyed the area; there were various mosaic pictures all over the walls of the rooms.

‘The Great Palace Mosaic Museum.’ He thought. Faust climbed out of the puddle on the floor and shook the water out of his hair, looking around the empty room, searching for any signs of the water demon before spotting it hanging upside-down from the red banister on the balcony in the corner of the room, licking one of its chops and clutching the human’s soul in the other.

‘Found you, you little prick!’ He shouted from the ground.

The demon’s black, rotting ears pricked up at the sound of Faust’s voice and it leapt down from the balcony, landing with a loud thud in front of him.

‘Now I want you to listen to me very carefully,’ Faust stated slowly, ‘if you don’t give me back that soul, I will reach down your throat, pull out your black heart and crush it with my bare –‘

Before he could finish his sentence, Faust was knocked off his feet by a large jet of water, crashing into the wall behind him. The demon cackled madly, wiping the excess water from its lips.

Faust pulled himself out of the wall and dusted the plaster off his trench coat. ‘Okay, I’m really trying to not kill you right now but you are really pushing my fucking temper demon. I just want the soul back.’

‘Vadis ut noceret mihi?’ The demon asked cautiously.

‘I’m not gonna hurt you if you cooperate; if you work with me, I’ll promise you that no harm shall befall you. That human’s soul belongs to the human; not you, not Hell.’

The demon stared at the stern look on Faust’s face and then back at the golden soul it held in its hand. It cautiously lowered its head and nodded.

Faust smiled softly and walked towards the demon, its talon outstretched and presenting the soul to him. Faust, in turn, reached out his hand to accept the orb but recoiled as he felt a searing hot pain in his hand. Looking down, he could see a small, circular, smoking wound in his hand. ‘Rock salt?’

Faust whipped around in search of the source and his eyes fell upon a young human male in a very impractical brown suit, peering at him through the sights of a ‘Savage 110 BA’, bolt-action sniper rifle with his sharp, hawk-like, hazel eyes.

‘You!’ Faust cried angrily, still clutching his wounded hand.

The suited man said nothing and fired another shot at Faust’s head. Faust quickly evaded the shot and took cover around a corner. More shots were heard as Faust poked his head out of his cover, only to see the water demon running around wildly, trying to avoid being shot by the determined sniper.

‘Wait, no! Don’t scare him!’ Faust called above the gunfire. He ran out from behind the corner and conjured a small fireball hastily to his hands before launching it desperately at the hunter. The flame caught onto the sniper rifle and the human dropped it on the ground, staring at his once trusty weapon that was now glowing red with heat.

‘Nice trick, Contractor,’ the human said, defiantly staring at Faust from his balcony, ‘but you’ll need more than circus acts to stop me!’

The hunter leapt off the balcony and down towards Faust, drawing two ‘Intratec TEC-DC9’ machine pistols from the inside of his jacket and showering the Contractor in a hail of bullets.

Faust, using his inhuman speed, quickly dashed out of the way, bounding upwards to the balcony where the hunter once stood. ‘Sick ‘em!’ He shouted.

No sooner had the hunter’s feet touched the ground he was tackled by the water demon, its maw locked in a vice-like grip on one of the hunter’s TEC-9s.’

‘Give it up Conrad,’ Faust called from his balcony, holding another fireball in his hand, ‘don’t make me kill you.’

The hunter laughed mockingly. ‘Kill me? Idle threats, Contractor; you cannot kill me without violating the Laws of Creation. You cannot even kill a cockroach that has run underfoot.’

Faust growled. ‘Look, I need that soul, a human’s soul, for a Persian girl back in Tabriz. I don’t need any more trouble from a smart-ass Demon Hunter like you, Conrad!’

The Demon Hunter, Conrad, stared back at Faust, his brown eyes burning with a frenzied obsession. ‘That human called this demon into our world,’ he stated coldly, ‘she deserves whatever fate befalls her.’ He kicked the water demon in the chest, causing it to fall backwards and release his weapon from its mouth before training both pistols on Faust and firing madly onto the balcony.

Faust felt a painful, scorching sensation envelop his entire body as the salt-laced bullets tore through his flesh. As he keeled over, he gave one last order to the water demon before his body turned into ash; ‘run!’

The demon bounded through the streets of Istanbul after crashing through a wall of the museum, chased by the frightening sounds of bullets being fired from behind it. Fearful for its life, the demon spat on the ground far in front of him, leaving behind a large pool of water before it dove into the puddle and disappearing from the Demon Hunter’s sight.

Conrad stood over the small body of water and stared into its transparent surface. He quickly pulled out his ‘Blackberry Z10’ and scrolled downwards before pressing the dial button.

‘Higgsby,’ he spoke into the receiver, ‘tell me all the landmarks within a 10 kilometre radius.’

The old, husky voice of Conrad’s servant was heard through the speakers. ‘Master Deslin, there is the “Eyup Cemetery” about seven kilometres from your location, sir.’

‘Good, how far are you from there?’

‘I can be there in five minutes, sir.’

‘And you will get there in two. Prepare the area, set up the equipment. The Contractor should arrive shortly before I.’

‘Yes Master Deslin, right away sir.’

The phone beeped as Deslin Conrad ended the phone call and stared up and down the darkened streets until his eyes landed upon a tired, old Toyota Corolla sitting on the side of the road. He grinned proudly to himself as he brandished a ‘Leatherman Surge’ pocket knife and walked quickly towards the car.

The water demon sat underneath a large tree, holding the soul close to its chest and jumping at even the smallest sound. At the sound of the wind blowing through the cemetery, it scampered, finding another tree to hide behind, whimpering slightly. Its blackened eyes stared hungrily at the human’s soul until a loud roaring noise awoke it from its stupor. ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

The demon wheeled around to see a large circle of fire on the grass, and the lone figure of Faust, the Contractor, arising from the ashen ground, his crimson trench coat dancing in the fire’s manes.

‘Recipite grata.’ The demon stated happily.

‘I saw the way you were looking at that soul,’ Faust stated dangerously, ‘and I don’t like it. You get that thought out of your fucking head, you get me?’

The demon nodded its head obediently.

‘Now,’ he said, looking around carefully, ‘give me the soul and we can be on our –‘

Faust’s sentence was cut short as he heard the sound of water spraying into the air. Looking around he could see the cemetery’s sprinkler system activate, showering the air with water. He shook his head and turned back to the demon, only to see it on the ground, writhing in agonising pain as the water splashed onto its skin, blistering its flesh.

‘Holy water!’ Faust exclaimed. He took off his trench coat and draped it over the pained demon before he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun firing, followed by a burning sensation in his shoulder. ‘Fuck!’ He shouted, clutching onto his perforated left shoulder.

From amongst the bushes, Faust could see the smoking barrel of a ‘Winchester Model 1200’ shotgun and the Demon Hunter, Deslin Conrad, and his loyal manservant, Higgsby, emerge.

‘Hmm… my aim is off.’ Conrad muttered as he approached Faust.

The Contractor raised his hands, summoning another fireball but fell forward as he heard another blast of the shotgun. He looked down to see his leg had been torn to shreds by the Winchester and let out an angered roar into the night.

‘Higgsby,’ Conrad ordered, ‘watch the Contractor while I deal with this unholy vermin.’ He threw his shotgun to his servant, who trained the barrel on Faust’s chest.

Faust could hear the soft crunching of grass as Conrad walked closer and closer to his trench coat and, underneath lying, the water demon. Not knowing what to do, Faust let out a loud, frustrated cry.

‘Do it!’ He shouted.

A loud noise of breaking glass pierced the air. Panicked, Conrad ran towards the water demon, only to be knocked back by a large torrential gush. He lifted his sopping-wet head from the ground and saw the water demon emerge from beneath Faust’s coat, completely transformed.

It had grown a pair of decaying, sinewy wings on its shoulders and large, curved horns protruded from its forehead. The demon cackled madly at the pitiful holy water that was trickling down the side of its face, leering angrily and growling at Conrad. The Demon Hunter reached into his jacket for his TEC-9s but the demon was already in the air. In a short blink, Conrad had his neck in the firm and sharp talons of the water demon, struggling for air.

‘Higgs…by…’ He choked. ‘The… Longinus…’

With one cautious look at Faust, Higgsby tore off the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a small, silver spearhead fastened around his arm with leather bands. The servitor charged towards the demon and with a mighty grunt, threw the blade with all his strength.

The water demon let out a loud shriek as the spearhead embedded into its neck. Conrad felt the demon’s grip loosen and slipped in between its giant talons and grabbed hold of the shard with both hands, running the blade across the demon’s jugular and around the back of its neck, severing its head from its body.

Faust watched in horror as the demon’s body began to ashen; its flesh melted and charred into specks of dust, flying into the wind and before long, all that was left of it was a pile of charred ash.

Faust hung his head in failure as he heard both Conrad and Higgsby approach.

‘You could have let me extract the fucking soul you limey shitbags!’ He shouted angrily. ‘You costed an innocent human her soul!’

‘Innocent?’ Conrad laughed, picking up his shotgun and reloading it. ‘She enlisted the help of the Black Princes of Hell. This bitch is far from innocent.’

‘That’s not your call to make, Demon Hunter! Your lust for blood has clouded you judg-‘

Another loud gunshot was heard as Faust’s words failed him once more. Conrad stood over the pile of ash that was once the body of the Contractor and sneered.

‘Hell’s most fearsome weapon?’ He sniggered. ‘I have disposed of imps that were more of a challenge.’

‘A job well done this evening, Master Deslin.’ Higgsby applauded.

‘It’s far from over Higgsby,’ Conrad stated macabrely, ‘I will run into the Contractor again. So long as Hell exists, I will always find myself drawing swords against him. But now he knows, now all of Hell knows, that we humans, we have methods to defend ourselves against their unhallowed and deceptive ways.’

 In a small apartment in the town of Tabriz, Iran, a young girl sat at her desk, patiently awaiting the peculiar man she had spoken to hours earlier. She held a book in her hand but was too preoccupied with her thoughts to continue reading; she just mutely read the same paragraph over and over again, forgetting what the story was about.

She glanced across the desk to the digital alarm clock that sat there.

‘Two in the morning,’ she thought, ‘I thought he’d be back by now.’

She stood up and made her way to the bathroom. The cold faucet squeaked loudly as she splashed cold water on her face to keep her awake. The faucet squeaked again as she tightened the handle shut, turned off the bathroom lights and went back into the living room. She let out a small squeal, not unlike her leaky faucet, as she saw a large, circular patch of burnt carpet and a man wearing crimson trousers and a black vest standing at the centre, staring at her.

‘Asr… Asr be kheyr… Mister Faust?’ She stammered.

‘Asr be kheyr Leila Foster.’ He replied.

‘You look different; what happened to your coat?’

‘Don’t ask.’ He answered quickly.

Leila was taken aback at being cut to the quick. ‘Did you find them?’ She asked slowly.

Faust walked across the room and picked up a cigarette lighter from the coffee table, striking it as he brought a cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag and blew out a large cloud of grey smoke before turning to Leila Foster and answering her.

‘Yes and no.’ He stated simply. He took another long drag from his cigarette. ‘You were actually born Leila Esfahani, your parents were Omid and Zahra Esfahani and, like you had suspected, lived in Khorramshahr until soldiers lay siege to the city in 1980.’

‘That’s it?’ Leila replied unimpressed. ‘I gave you my soul just so you can tell me my parents’ names?’

‘I’m not done yet.’ He answered irately. ‘They fled Khorramshahr for Turkey, but they stopped here in Tabriz to resupply.’

‘I still don’t see me getting my money’s worth here aqa.’ She said haughtily. ‘So are they buried here then?’

‘They’re not buried anywhere,’ Faust said bluntly, ‘they’re alive in Istanbul. Old as shit, but alive and kicking kid.’

‘I don’t… what do you mean they’re alive?’ Leila gasped.

‘You can’t connect the dots? They abandoned you here in Tabriz so their journey to Turkey would be easier.’ Faust crushed the cigarette on the corner of Leila’s coffee table. She took no notice of him doing so as she slumped back into her desk chair, completely stunned by Faust’s revelations.

‘They… just left me here?’ She asked unblinkingly.

Faust ignored her and continued. ‘Now as per Section 49 of the ‘Pacts to Hell’ ante bellum, I have to tell you what happens with your contract.’

‘What do you mean?’ Leila asked, snapping out of her daze. ‘You just take my soul now don’t you?’

‘It’s not that simple. Think about the exact deal you made with Leviathan, what were the terms of your agreement with the Prince of Envy?’

‘I… he agreed to find my parents graves… for my soul.’

‘Right, but we didn’t find a grave. We failed in our end of the contract so you were entitled to a refund.’

‘I… get my soul back?’

‘You would have but there were… complications…’ Faust spat on the floor angrily and, again, Leila did not take notice.

‘So… what now? You give me like a stock soul? A soul from the warehouse?’ She asked interestedly.

‘That’s not how it works; I can only give you back your soul, no one else’s.’

‘So either way,’ she started angrily, ‘I’m not gonna get my soul back at all.’

‘No.’ Faust said, staring at the ground ashamedly. ‘You won’t.’

‘Well that’s bullshit!’ She shouted. ‘I’m entitled to my soul back; you have to give it back!’

‘There is no fucking soul to give back you little shit!’ He shouted, glaring at her angrily. ‘I fought tooth and fucking nail to get you your soul back so I would appreciate it if you would shut the fuck up, calm down, shut the fuck up again, and listen to whatever the fuck I have to tell you!’

Leila almost fell out of her chair at being scolded so violently. ‘G-go on.’

‘You have now learned a valuable lesson in dealing with Hell; never fucking do it! Yeah, it’s pretty shitty that you’re not gonna get your soul back, but only five hours ago you were more than happy with giving up your soul to know where two headstones were. So don’t get shitty with me just because mummy and daddy didn’t love you enough to take you to Turkey with them!’

‘I’m not –‘

‘Shut the fuck up! I’m not finished. Now I’ve given you the information that you half-wanted to hear but were too afraid to and you know what? In about a few hours, when your body realises it doesn’t have a soul anymore, you’re not gonna give a shit.’

‘But this… this is all wrong!’ She cried.

‘If you have any complaints, call back Leviathan and discuss it with him because frankly I’ve been shot at and sent back to Hell twice today, so I’m fresh out of fucks to give.’

He stood up and brushed some of the cigarette ash off of his black vest before making his way to the door.’

‘But wait!’ Leila shouted from the living room. ‘Where are you going?’

Faust turned around and stared at her angrily with his blood-red eyes. ‘I’m going to get my fucking coat back!’

And so ends the tale of the Orphan… and the Contractor.

Interim I - Pride

Interim I - Pride

“I have never much cared for the so-called ‘Black Princes of Hell’; to me they are a bunch of spoiled, quarrelling school children. The fact that I call them ‘Master’ is purely a courtesy and a custom of the environment in which I am forced to live.

“The depths of this lightless pit is ruled by the Seven and of those seven, none is more feared, more reviled, more mirthless than the Proud Prince, Lucifer; the First of the Fallen Ones.

“Lucifer once defected from the Angels, refusing to bow to the Creator’s second progeny. He was cast from the Holy Kingdom and sent through the fiery abyss. Instead of writhing in the tortuous pit like other souls before him, he relished it, savoured it and endured the very pain that was supposed to break his spirit; all to show that he was the strongest of all creation.

“That pestilent hubris had spread to the mortal realm granting them the holier-than-thou attitude that humans have now become infamous for in Hell. When a mortal believes that he is better than the world around him, that he is entitled to greatness, he sends a call to Prince Lucifer, the Throne of Pride.

“And Lucifer always answers…”

His footsteps echoed off the pine floorboards as he marched through the archway of the ‘State Library of Victoria’ in the bustling Melbourne city. The many avid knowledge seekers took no notice of him as his crimson-cloak whipped through the security system and into the main auditorium.

He lifted his head and stared at the marvellous man-made structure before. ‘A demon’s feeding pit,’ he thought as he continued striding boldly through to the wooden staircase and made his way upstairs, walking into the gallery room.

He stood in the middle of the gallery, his blood-red eyes scanning across the various art works on the wall until they fell upon Ben McKeown’s ‘Spring Street End’ sitting in the far corner of the room. In front of the coloured canvas stood an old man, his shaking hands clutching firmly onto a walking frame and talking to the man beside him; a man dressed in the blackest of black suits, speaking quietly and smirking proudly.

His crimson trench coat kicked against his leg as the red-eyed man made his way towards them, straining his ears to listen to their conversation as he moved closer.

‘… And why not?’ The old man asked indignantly. ‘I thought the Dark Prince would want a free soul.’

The pitch-black suited man crossed his arms and continued smirking. ‘Gerald, Gerald, Gerald,’ he said condescendingly, ‘well of course I want souls. But the value of your soul is greatly diminished, I’m afraid.’

‘And why’s that?’ The old man Gerald asked angrily. ‘I’ve lived a good life, I’ve filled my soul with family and friends and experiences. My soul has lots of value Lucifer.’

The suited man, Lucifer, let out a snort of derision as he produced a small scroll from the inside of his jacket. ‘Gerald Jameson,’ he read off the page, ‘widower, four children, owner of a once-successful, but now-defunct, textile factory and –‘

Lucifer turned around at the sound of the crimson man’s footsteps echoing closer. ‘Ah excellent, the Contractor is here.’

Gerald was very nervous at having two Hellions in his midst. ‘W-what is this?’

‘Gerald, this is Faust; Hell’s Contractor… ah… Lawyer if you will. All pacts and contracts are governed by him and his extensive knowledge of the laws of Creation.’ Lucifer’s professional demeanour soured. ‘Although, his tardiness is not appreciated.’

The crimson man, Faust, stared at the Prince of Pride boorishly and matched Lucifer’s dark, mirthless gaze. ‘Is there a reason you summoned me Lucifer?’ He asked curtly.

‘His familiar tone is unappreciated too.’ Lucifer sneered. ‘I have called you here, Faust, because our good friend Gerald here has requested a second opinion.’

‘On what?’

‘On the value of his soul and watch how you address me cretin.’ Lucifer snapped. ‘Your existence is only a courtesy I bestow.’

Faust ignored him and turned to face the old man, clearly befuddled by the situation, Gerald spoke. ‘I… I just wanted to exchange my soul so that my children can live long, happy lives.’

Faust ran his hand through his ebon hair and took a deep breath. ‘Okay, setting aside the fact that the irony of that statement will be painfully felt long after you’re a corpse in the ground, what you’re asking for is simply and mathematically impossible.’

‘Why?’ Gerald defended again, hitting his walking frame on the ground frustratingly. ‘I’ve lived a good life, a just life. My soul should be worth plenty.’

‘Yeah, that doesn’t mean jack shit old man.’ Faust continued. ‘By asking for your children to live long lives, you are robbing Hell of the chance to reap their souls early. All for what, your old and used-up soul? Why should we take one ancient soul now, when we can take four potential fresh souls later?’

Gerald stared at his feet ashamedly as the Contractor proceeded to belittle him further.

‘And besides Gerald, you’re no patron saint. Your life is marred with sin; your first child out of wedlock, lust. The drugs and alcohol during your younger years, gluttony. And how many small companies have you bankrupted to get your business off the ground? Greed.’

‘What’s your point Contractor?’ Gerald asked meekly.

‘My point is that your soul belongs to Hell anyway and you’re old and you’re gonna die soon. So I doubt there’s any worry that you’re suddenly gonna turn into a saint there Jerry.’

‘M-my soul has plenty of value.’ Gerald replied quietly.

‘So you see Gerald,’ Lucifer added smugly, ‘strictly from a business point of view, you really have nothing to offer us.’

‘What was the nature of your deal with Lucifer anyway?’ Faust asked.

Gerald whispered something inaudible.

‘What was that?’ Faust asked loudly. ‘Speak up old man.’

‘Diabetes.’ He said slightly louder. ‘I want to cure my children of diabetes.’

Faust was taken aback by Gerald’s answer. ‘With… with your dying breath, you wanna cure your kids of diabetes?’

The old man nodded. ‘I’ve lived a good life Contractor, but the price of my hedonism is left for my children to pay. It’s not right; I’m the one responsible; I’m the one who should be paying.’

Faust stared at the sad old man in front of him curiously. Lucifer the Proud Prince stared at Gerald with a newfound interest.

‘Well, given such a touching testimony, perhaps we can reconsider our arrangement.’ The Black Prince said, smirking his trademark smirk.

‘What do you mean?’ Gerald asked hopefully.

‘It means that the value of your so –‘

Faust was cut off by the Black Prince’s loud throat clearing. ‘A word Faust?’ He said sternly.

Lucifer dragged Faust over into the far corner and stared at him angrily. ‘What in Hell are you doing?’

‘My job, Lucifer.’ Faust replied frankly. ‘We’re not supposed to keep anything from them if they want to sign a pact.’

‘I don’t give a shit what your job is.’ Lucifer spat. ‘If you tell him what his soul is actually worth, that sacrifice grows the soul, he may find way into the Kingdom of Light. Do you understand?’

‘I understand, but I don’t fucking care. There is no reason to take his soul; he is old, he will join you in Hell in due time.’

‘That is not your decision; I am the Black Prince of Hell, I shall decide whether to reap a soul.’

‘My duties and laws supersede your pri-‘

Faust’s sentence cut short as he felt the searing hot pain of the Black Prince’s hand upon his chest, burning into his flesh.

‘Now you listen to me you little shit stain,’ Lucifer hissed angrily, pushing his burning palm further into Faust’s chest, ‘you don’t ever fucking talk to me like that. Not in this realm, not in any realm. You may be ancient, but I am still more powerful than anything in creation. Do you understand me?’

Faust dropped to his knees as Lucifer finally let him go. Panting and wheezing he glared at the Prince of Pride as he straightened his pitch-black suit and walked back over to Gerald.

Faust growled as he picked himself up from the ground and dusted off his crimson trench coat, re-joining the Black Prince in his conference, his face contorted into a horrible snarl.

‘As I was saying earlier, Gerald,’ Lucifer began again, ‘I am willing to consider your offer.’

‘You are?’ Gerald said happily, his wrinkled eyes welling with tears. ‘Truly?’

‘Yes, your soul for the cure of diabetes for all four of your offspring.’ Lucifer stared at his nails nonchalantly. ‘I am nothing if not generous.’

Faust let out a sarcastic scoff met with a dangerous leer from the Black Prince himself. Gerald, the old man, nodded his head slowly. ‘I… I agree.’

Lucifer lifted his head back superiorly. ‘Very good then; I shall en-‘

‘Hold on,’ Faust interjected, ‘as the Contractor I need to make sure that this contract is perfect and respecting all jurisdictions.’

‘What jurisdictions?’ Lucifer hissed venomously. ‘He agreed to the pact with me, his soul shall henceforth belong to me.’

‘But is it rightfully yours?’ Faust asked. ‘He is making a deal and arguing about the value of his soul. This sounds a lot like greed to me, not pride.’

‘Don’t you dare Fa-‘

‘And if it’s a deal of greed,’ Faust continued, smiling softly, ‘then wouldn’t the deal best be done with –‘

‘Me,’ said a loud and curt voice from behind them.

Lucifer closed his eyes and, without even looking at whom he was addressing, uttered only one name, ‘Mammon.’

Gerald rubbed his aging eyes with his shaking hands and stared at the newcomer; he was a young man with hollow black eyes and a head of impossibly-black hair, donning a sharp attire of a jet-black vest, jet-black shirt, jet-black tie and jet-black slacks; the Greed Prince, Mammon.

‘What are you doing here Mammon?’ Lucifer asked, finally turning to face him. ‘I found him first.’

‘Well, as the Contractor stated; I am here because this deal should not be struck with you, Lucy, rather, me.’

Lucifer growled. ‘Don’t call me Lucy.’

Mammon raised his finger and waved it side to side, letting out a sarcastic ‘tut’ as he so did. ‘Temper, temper brother, your pride goeth before the fall.’

‘Why do you need this antediluvian’s soul anyway?’ Lucifer spat. ‘Your cup runneth over!’

‘Ah guys,’ Faust interrupted facetiously, ‘if ma and pa are done fighting, I think the kid is getting freaked out.’

Both Black Princes of Hell interrupted their quarrel and stared at Gerald, shaking nervously under their gaze.

‘I was here first,’ Lucifer stated again, ‘I sign the pact.’

Mammon patted his vest pockets. ‘Well if it means that much to you,’ he stated condescendingly, ‘I guess I can give you a crumb.’ He took a few steps away, inspecting the painting before him.

Faust was bemused by the storm clouds over the Proud Prince’s head as Lucifer produced a parchment from his jacket and began instructing the old geriatric. His crimson trench coat whipped behind him as Faust wheeled around and stood next to Mammon.

‘That was generous of you, Mammon.’ He stated, staring at the painting. ‘Letting that little shit have a soul that should have been yours.’

‘Yes,’ he remarked, ‘I am good to my brother aren’t I?’

‘How ironic; the Greedy Prince showing philanthropy.’ Faust laughed. ‘The Bible’s got it so wrong.’

 ‘I hardly call that philanthropy; it’s just an old man and his relic of a soul.’

Faust shrugged. ‘His soul may be worth more than you think.’

Mammon turned his head and, with his cold, blackened eyes, stared straight into Faust’s blood-red retinas. ‘Explain yourself.’

‘Well,’ Faust began innocently, ‘think about the deal he’s making; his soul, for the betterment of four others, to rid disease from their lives.’

Mammon gasped softly. ‘The Sacrifice.’

‘I wonder how powerful his soul is now with that resolve.’ Faust stated offhandedly.

Mammon’s eyes burned with desire as he stared at Gerald Jameson, pressing his pin-pricked finger onto the Proud Prince’s parchment. The contract burst into flames and Lucifer closed his eyes, lolling his head left and right before his eyes shot open.

‘It’s done Jerry,’ he told the anticipating mortal, ‘no more diabetes.’

‘And… my soul?’ He said, quivering.

Lucifer opened his hand and placed it gently in the centre of the old man’s chest. A faint, white light was seen from the contact point and Lucifer slowly pulled his hand back, revealing a small, glowing, golden orb being extracted from Gerald’s chest.

‘No,’ Faust heard Mammon whisper, ‘it should be mine. No!’ Mammon threw Faust out of the way as he charged with unholy speed towards Lucifer; his hands outstretched, he grabbed the golden orb, Gerald’s soul, before the Proud Prince had laid a finger upon it. ‘It’s mine!’ He shouted loudly, as passers-by hurried out of the room nervously.

‘It is not yours!’ Lucifer stated, as the limp body of Gerald Jameson crumpled to the floor. ‘He signed the pact under my dominion!’

‘But under my discipline!’ Mammon returned.

‘I will have that soul back.’

‘Come and claim it brother!’

‘Girls, girls please,’ Faust added mockingly, ‘you’re both the prettiest in all of Hell.’

Lucifer pointed a shaking finger at Faust. ‘You, Contractor, rectify this immediately!’

‘Oh? You want me to fix this?’

Mammon turned to him and stared at him ominously. ‘Who has jurisdiction of the soul.’

‘Oh yeah, sure, no problem; let me look that up for you shall I?’ He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a small, silver bible, leafing through the pages carelessly. ‘Let’s see; ownership, ownership… ah here it is.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Section 126 of the ‘Pacts to Hell’ ante bellum;

“Should a soul’s ownership come into contest from the Rulers of Hell”, that’s you two idiots, “after a pact is successfully enacted, then the disputing parties have but two choices: to surrender the soul back to its original, mortal owner, or to go to war over the possession of the soul.”

Well there you have it girls; give it back or go to war.’

Faust snapped the silver bible shut and stared at the two Black Princes in amusement. ‘So are you gonna give it back to him or not?’

‘It does not belong under the banner of Pride.’ Mammon spat.

‘I was talking about the meat sack.’ Faust retorted, jerking his head indicatively towards Gerald, still unconscious on the ground.

Mammon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Never.’

‘Oh okay,’ Faust stated, ‘then shall I let cry the dogs of war?’

Mammon stared at the small golden orb in his hand and then back at his brother, Lucifer. With a frustrating roar, he rushed over to Gerald and plunged the glowing soul back into his chest.

With one last angry look at Faust and Lucifer, he turned around haughtily and made his way down the steps of the gallery and out into the busy Melbourne streets.

Faust smiled softly to himself but his glee was short-lived.

‘You,’ Lucifer accused angrily, ‘you cost me a soul Contractor!’ Lucifer ran towards Faust, his hand blazed an ominous scarlet glow as it flew through the air, racing towards the Contractor.

Faust stood his ground and, without a word, he darted forward with lightning speed, grabbing the Black Prince around his neck and lifting him off the ground. Lucifer’s mortal body dangled in the air, flailing and thrashing about, cursing madly at Faust as he brought his head closer to the Proud Prince.

‘Now you listen and you listen well you little shit,’ Faust whispered dangerously, ‘the fact that I call you master is merely a courtesy that I have bestowed upon you. Don’t think that just because I live in your realm, in your brothers’ realm, that you own me. I am older than time itself and you’d do well to remember, that if I were so inclined, I can rest your head against the Brimstone Throne of the Dark Palace and break your demonic neck in front of all your little minions. Do you understand me, you fucking prick?’

Lucifer continued kicking wildly and cursing, testing Faust’s temper. ‘I didn’t fucking hear you.’ He growled, closing his hands tighter around the Black Prince’s neck.

Lucifer let out a small whimper of agreement before Faust threw him onto the wooden floor of the gallery. He pulled out the same silver bible from his pocket and flipped it towards the back pages, reading its contents rapidly.

‘Eieci te de regno et misit in abyssum!’

Lucifer let out a choked scream as his body suddenly burst into flames. Faust watched as the Proud Prince became engulfed by the inferno, leaving nothing behind but a small pile of ash as a remnant of his mortal self.

Faust stooped down and shook Gerald awake. The old man’s wrinkled and watery eyes fluttered open.

‘I’m gonna make this short old man,’ Faust said impatiently, ‘I got you your soul back and I don’t want you to squander the gift I’ve given you. Use this second chance to live your life better; spend the little time you have left on Earth with your kids, fill your life with love and happiness. You get me?’

Gerald nodded weakly. ‘But what about my kids?’ He asked concernedly. ‘What about the –‘

‘Hell still has to uphold their end.’ Faust interjected. ‘They made the blunder of the pact, not you so your family is still cured.’

The old man’s watery grey eyes began to well even more with tears. ‘Th-thank you Contractor.’ He said, taking Faust’s hands into his own and squeezing it tight. ‘Thank you for giving me a second chance with my family.’

Faust shook his head dismissively. ‘Don’t mention it. Just… no more deals with Lucifer alright? I don’t think he’ll be too pleased to see you again.’

‘But what about you? Wouldn’t he be waiting for you back in Hell?’

Faust stood up and corrected his crimson-red trench coat with a superior look upon his face. ‘Now don’t you worry about me, Jerry, they may enforce the Laws of Hell, but…’ he said as he turned around and made his way out of the gallery.

‘But what?’

Faust gave Gerald a confident wink. ‘But I’m the Contractor, Gerald, I am the fucking Law.’

And so ends the First Interim…