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 II – The Father

 

“What? What do you mean she only has one more year to live? … But doctor, she’s only four years old… isn’t there anything we… no I… no, I don’t want to prolong her life for another few months, I want her to… but the results, you said they were… please, tell me there’s something we can do for her? … No I… no I understand. Thank you for trying.”

 The tails of his crimson-red cloak danced in the wind as he ran down the streets of Manhattan. He could see it up ahead, but it kept burrowing into the ground and reappearing on the other side of the empty street.

‘I’m not playing fucking whack-a-mole with you anymore!’ He shouted angrily. He leapt high into the air and brought his fist crashing through the concrete pavement beneath him. The impact sent a mighty fissure across the ground, opening the pavement with its trembling quake. He heard the sound of his target falling through the chasm and leapt down into the scar of concrete.

Curses and screams were heard erupting from the hole until finally he emerged, dragging a struggling, beige demon out by the horns.

The demon screeched and thrashed about, all while clutching a peculiar golden orb in its talon.

‘You piece of shit,’ he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow, ‘when I tell you to fucking stop, I mean fucking stop! You earth demons make me sick.’

He bent down and punched the earth demon in its disgusting, dribbling maw and struggled to pry the golden orb out of its talons.

‘Hand it over!’ The man demanded, rolling on the ground with the demon. ‘Don’t you know who I am you limey fuck? I am the Contractor!’

‘Estis… Faust?’ The demon inquired, its voice quavering at the sound of his name.

‘Of course I’m Faust! Who the fuck else would I be, Justin Bieber?’ Faust stood up and flicked his coat angrily as the demon stared at him in fear.

It turned its ugly head and stared at the golden orb, the Human Soul, in its talons.

‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ Faust warned ominously.

It stared back at Faust and then back at the soul indecisively before raising the orb to its decayed mouth.

 ‘No, fuck you!’

Faust pulled out a small silver bible from the interior of his robe and began reading a short passage rapidly. ‘Mors ultima linea rerum est. In morte requiesces!’

Before the golden sphere reached its lips, the demon started to shriek in unimaginable pain as the skin on its wretched body began to hiss and char. It dropped the soul and began swinging its arms wildly into the air, slashing its razor sharp talons blindly at Faust. In one last desperate move, it brought both fists crashing onto the ground, creating a seismic wave of concrete and asphalt in all directions.

Faust, being caught off guard, was swept up in the quake and hurtled high into the air before falling back down onto the ground with a terrifying crash.

‘Fucking… earth… demons,’ were his pained words as he lifted himself up from the ground and walked towards the pile of ash that was the earth demon’s body.

‘All you had to do was give me the fucking soul, that’s all you had to do.’

He kicked the pile of char softly until he could see the light of a yellow, golden orb underneath its black dust. Faust picked up the soul and inspected it; it had no cracks, no teeth marks; the perfect soul.

In a medical room at St. Clare’s Hospital, a man sat with his head wresting on his arms, next to a little girl who was lying on a bed adorned with flowers and smiling bumblebees.

The girl was asleep and unaware that the man next to her was weeping softly onto her covers. But they were not tears of sorrow, they were tears of joy. He had just received the best news during the day that the little girl, his beautiful four-year-old daughter Lucy, has been cured completely of the leukaemia that had plagued her since birth.

The doctors could not explain what had happened and chalked it up to ‘one of life’s great miracles’, but he knew how and why she was cured.

‘Do you wanna know what’s ironic about this situation?’ Came a cold, callous voice from the doorway behind him.

He turned his shoulder to see a man wearing a red, flowing trench coat walk through the door. His footsteps made no sound as he glided across the room and sat on the bed at Lucy’s feet.

‘W-what’s ironic?’ The father asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.

‘St. Clare’s hospital was originally in an area called “Hell’s Kitchen” in one of the boroughs of Manhattan.’

The father smiled. ‘That is ironic.’ He laughed.

‘Why are you in such a good mood Pete?’ Faust asked.

‘Lucy… the doctors said her cancer’s gone.’

‘Well of course it’s fucking gone, you made a deal with Lucifer to cure her didn’t you?’

‘I know but… I was raised a Catholic and I was taught to believe that deals with the devil will always turn south in the end.’ He laughed again. ‘I just can’t believe the Prince of Lies came through for me.’

‘And there’s another bit of irony right there; you’re in a Catholic hospital in which you made a deal with a Prince of Hell. Your God’ll be mighty pissed off at you, you know that?’

The father, Pete, shook his head. ‘Whatever awaits me in the afterlife, I will gladly bear for my Lucy.’

‘Oh, so unimaginable terror and pain until the end of time means no-never-mind to you?’

‘I can endure.’

Faust snorted. ‘For now.’

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence until finally Pete spoke again. ‘Why are you here?’

Faust straightened Lucy’s blanket in nonchalance. ‘Section 49 of the ‘Pacts of Hell’ ante bellum requires me to explain to you what happens now after the transaction is complete.’

‘I know what happens,’ Pete stated quickly, ‘I go to Hell after I die. I’m okay with this!’

‘You’re okay with this?’ Faust replied. ‘Do you have any fucking idea how much you’ve screwed up today Pete?’

‘W-what do you mean?’

‘Yeah, your daughter is gonna live a full life now. But how is she gonna feel after you start screwing up everything else in her life?’ He pulled out the golden sphere from the inside of his coat and held it in front of Pete’s face angrily. ‘See this here, the soul? It allows you to feel joy, happiness, love. All that in this small-as-shit ball right here!’

‘I… I still don’t under-understand.’

Faust breathed out a long and pained sigh. ‘How is Lucy gonna feel when you’re sitting like a fucking zombie at her dance recital, unable to smile at her or feel proud of her? How is she gonna feel when you give her away at her wedding but you don’t wish her luck or kiss her tenderly? How will she fucking feel when she says that she loves her father and wishes he can love her back? Is that the life you want her to fucking live? Can you even call that a life for her?’

Pete started to tear up again. ‘It was better than the alternative.’

‘Better for who; Lucy or you, Pete?’

‘I couldn’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I had lost her too.’

‘You’re a fucking Catholic; you know she’ll go to a better place. You’re just too much of a fucking pussy to admit to yourself that you’ll have to live your life alone!’

‘She’s only four! She deserves to live a full life!’

‘She does… but with a father that can be there for her. If I asked her now, would she rather die knowing her father loved her, or live with her father being unable to love her, which do you think she’d pick?’

Pete’s tears started to escalate into uncontrollable sobbing.

‘You really screwed the pooch on this one, Pete.’

‘I… I had to save her!’ He shouted through his tears.

‘You weren’t trying to save her; you were trying to save yourself! You were selfish and scared and unable to cope with being alone. Why did you think it was Lucifer who answered your call? Selfishness is born of Pride you fuckwit!’

Pete’s head fell onto Lucy’s pillow and all that was heard was muffled sobbing and wailing until Pete’s words came softly through. ‘I can’t… I won’t be able to feel anything for Lucy?’

‘Nothing.’ Faust replied heartlessly. ‘You were taught by your religion that deals with Hell always turned sour?’

Pete’s head nodded into the pillow.

‘Well you should’ve fucking believed them you asshole. Now your soul is eternally Hell’s plaything.’

And with that last remark, Faust exited the room as quietly as he entered, leaving nothing but the memory of his swirling red, cloak behind.

Pete, having finally finished his pathetic crying, lifted his head from the pillow and stared at his slumbering daughter. He stroked her hair softly and with each caress, felt the love in his heart deteriorate slowly.

The little girl stirred in her sleep and her eyelids slowly opened.

‘Daddy,’ she said softly, ‘I love you.’ She closed her eyes again and fell back asleep.

Pete tried to force himself to say ‘I love you’ back to her, but felt a catch in his throat, like someone wrapping their hands around his windpipe. All he could say back to her was ‘me too’.

He sat there in the dark, staring at the little girl. Although she was lying right there next to him, it felt as though they were a thousand miles apart.

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