--The accident, 10 PM--

As the car drove through the streets, Maxwell felt sweat beading all over his body. This was it, this was the time he needed to act. There weren’t many cars or people on the street, but there were a few. When they finally got to central square, the car stopped. Standing in the middle of the square was Max’s father, looking worried, and standing with two men. One of them was very gaudy and flashy, with a large wide-brimmed hat, and the other was Mr. Brown. They were both holding suitcases.

And when the town’s grand clock struck 10 and started ringing, each one split off in their own direction.

But for some reason, this bothered Nick.

“No, there’s someone else,” he said, blood starting to trickle down the scar on his face. “There’s someone missing.”

“What?” Tom asked, turning around to look his boss in the face.

“What Rico said. He told me who the people were that came and visited the house. One of them looks like the hat guy, but the other wasn’t an old man. It was the one Rico said he was the most worried about. A guy with long blonde hair. This is a trap. We need to kill them.”

Nick turned the safety on his gun off and started rolling down the windows when a hand touched his leg. He turned to see why Max had grabbed him when his skull shattered into needles and punctured his brain, killing Nick instantly.

He didn’t even have a chance to react, but there was a loud crunching sound as his head imploded. Tom turned around but a hand grabbed his shoulder before he could do anything. His ribs became razor blades and eviscerated the insides of his chest, causing the man to vomit up blood and lose control over his muscles. His body jolted and slammed on the accelerator, launching the car through a nearby restaurant window and spinning before smashing into a wall across the street.

Fortunately Max’s seatbelt was on so he didn’t fly through the windshield, but he did bounce around in the car and bash his head against Nick's corpse. Temporarily dazed, Maxwell just pushed his hands against his head to keep his brain from shaking around inside his skull. He needed to vomit, so he unbuckled himself and pushed out the door.

Outside, in the restaurant that just had half of the building broken through, Maxine and Arco sat frozen in place. Had the car been only a few centimeters closer, it would’ve been instant death.

“That was a close one,” Arco said, trying to settle himself. “Guess that’s good luck, huh?”

But Maxine wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Max?”

She stood from her chair and started walking over to the accident, looking at her little brother as he puked on the ground. As she started to get closer, he lifted his head up.

“Sis?”

But that wasn’t all. From the center square, Lenore watched in horror as the car crashed down the street. That was frightening enough. What startled him more was seeing Maxine step out of the crumbling rubble from the damaged building and Maxwell dropping out of the damaged vehicle. The surreal moment utterly escaped him and he was frozen with a strange sense of joy and worry.

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Arco said, appearing behind Maxine, staring down at the hurt boy. The police would probably be coming soon, but there weren’t any sirens yet. Arco had no idea if the drop off was complete, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. The only thing to do was push forward. “Are you okay bro? Do you know each other?”

It should be known that Arco recognized Maxwell but was only acting as if he didn’t.

“He’s my brother,” Maxine said. Then, she dropped down to give Maxwell a hand up. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“Sis...what happened? Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

As the two fumbled questions at each other, Arco noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Two things, actually.

The first was that Lenore Vasquez was starting to wander over with tears streaming down his face. The senator was completely alone and had his hands out, reaching for his kids, even though they hadn’t noticed. It would be only seconds before they all met and his plans would be ruined that way.

The other and more troubling thing was further back.

Arco’s eyes met with Hansons’, who was getting off of a motorcycle and cracking his knuckles with a bloody arm. Sitting still on the bike was Luise, looking on the scene with interest. Chills began to overtake Arco’s body as he saw the expression on his old friend and current enemy’s face. The last time Hanson had worn that expression, Arco had nearly died.

Simultaneously, two massive problems appeared, and Arco needed to make a choice.

He looked back down at the siblings as something insane was said.

“This guy is a kidnapper,” Maxwell said, pointing at Arco. “They were keeping me locked up. We gotta run.”

What?

How?

Arco had absolutely no idea why Maxwell said such a thing. It made no sense to him.

But it shouldn’t, since it was an illogical thing to say. The currently dazed brother didn’t actually know who Arco was and hadn’t seen him before; but what Maxwell did know was that his sister was being held captive. He had never seen her, and never realized Luise was mistaken for his sister. For that reason, the strange person named Arco just looked like a threat.

But all of these coincidences happening together at the same time made Arco’s mind crack. No longer was he able to act on reason, his mind would now work like an animal’s.

“What is he talking abo-”

Maxine turned to ask her question, but didn’t get it all out.

Arco punched her in the jaw, hard enough to instantly knock her out. She crumpled down as Arco reached around out to punch Maxwell just the same. But the brother was a killer now and had left behind any concepts of morality.

“Die fucker!”

Maxwell grabbed Arco’s arm and meant to sever the man’s spinal cord.

Nothing happened, and Maxwell realized why an instant before his own jaw was hammered. There was nothing inside Arco’s body. It was just liquid. There were no bones or organs, and there was nothing to manipulate. Perhaps if Maxwell had focused on slicing or tearing skin something might have been effective, but there wasn’t time as his vision went black.

Arco crouched down and through them both over his shoulder.

He looked at both Lenore, whose face of joy turned to despair, and Hanson, whose look of rage had only grown stronger.

“Chase after me and they’re fucking dead,” Arco said, before his body and everything he was holding vanished in a puff of black smoke.

***

When the car crashed, both Mr. Brown and Lance were heading in their respective directions, and even with the screeching and slamming sounds in the distance, neither were willing to falter.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

But for the butler,he felt extreme fear.

His entire body was shivering, not just from the cold sweats, but from worry. In his hands was a briefcase with an enormous amount of money, and the only instructions they had were to walk until someone in a mask came and met them. Of course, there was some plan, but still, he could imagine nothing good happening. Only things going wrong.

The streets weren’t particularly crowded, but people were alert at the moment. Everyone was staring off towards the car crash, and some were going to check it out.

Each of their glances made Mr. Brown’s skin tense.

Who was going to approach him?

Everyone looked like a suspect, and everyone looked like a criminal. But deep within his core, the butler knew he needed to walk forward. Those kids needed him, no matter how painful it got.

So he closed his eyes and walked forward.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder. It felt large.

“...y-yes?”

When Mr. Brown turned, he felt fear. The man standing there was large and muscular. He had a thick mustache and sunglasses, even though it was nighttime. The shadows cast over his face made it impossible to discern anything else.

But the monstrous image invoked by Mr. Brown couldn’t tell such things about his face. His knees shook.

“Hand it over,” the thug asked, wagging the hand not on Mr. Brown’s shoulder. “The cash. Then keep walking.”

“Y-you’re one of them?”

“One of what?”

“Those gangsters...who kidnap children?”

The criminal paused for a second, his face contorting into an indescribable emotion. He let go of Mr. Brown’s shoulder and rubbed the back of his own neck.

“Look, dude,” the man started. “Man’s gotta eat. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. But you know how it is. Some days, you just gotta bite the bullet and do something bad to survive.”

“Kidnapping children?”

“They’re not little kids. Those are grown adults. Anyway, give me the damn money and go on your way.”

But something had changed in Mr. Brown’s mind.

Was it because he was standing face to face with what he had feared before? And now realized the alien fear of the unknown had become measurable, and the evil men that were their enemies weren’t the devils he had once thought?

Whatever the reason, these weak excuses insulted the butler.

This man standing before him claimed this was just simple work. Of course, it was tough to get jobs nowadays, but to turn to kidnapping? Harming others just to live yourself?

That was not something Mr. Brown could accept.

He planted his feet firmly on the ground and puffed out his chest.

“Look here, sir,” Benjamin Brown started. “If you are troubled and having difficulty getting through life, then you shouldn’t just start doing crimes. All you do then is make it hard for other people, and that makes them commit crimes. Can’t you see the terrible circle of pain you perpetuate?”

When he finished his short rant, Mr. Brown had tears in his eyes. He couldn’t even remember the last time he shouted, and he could have never pictured himself shouting at such a threatening person before. He also realized that acting like this could ruin everything. It was against the plan, and it meant he was going against what they had all agreed.

He felt it was necessary, though, and the proud man would accept whatever punishment came his way.

As he watched the criminal sigh, Mr. Brown braced himself for a punch. He’d never been punched before, so he made a prayer that it wouldn’t hurt as much as he thought.

The punch never came.

Instead, the brutish body of the gangster merely slumped over, down on top of the butler, toppling him to the ground. There was a bloody hole on the back of the deceased gangster’s neck, and standing right behind where he had been standing was Honey Fragat holding a long thin blade coated red.

“Old man, that wasn’t what the script called for,” she said while wiping the knife off. “Kinda badass, though.”

“O-oh, thank you for that. Do you mind helping to get the body off me?”

“Huh? Do I need to?”

The man was heavy, and with the way Mr. Brown was squished under him, there weren’t any good places to push.

“If you can...please…”

“Hmm.”

Instead of helping, Honey sat on top of the dead man’s body. For some reason, people weren’t paying much attention to them, rather, it was focused on the police coming to deal with the car crash.

“What do I get for it?”

***

In the other direction, a man came to accost Lance just the same. But the detective was well trained, and as soon as he felt a hand touch him, he had pulled out a revolver.

Lance turned and pressed it against the man’s stomach.

“Shush, don’t say anything,” Lance said, whispering into the gangster’s ear. “I have a license to make citizen’s arrests, and I’m placing you under arrest. Or, if you try to resist, I can shoot you. I have a license to do that as well. Pretty nifty, honestly. Now, if you want to get out of this one unscathed, just put on these handcuffs and lock yourself to that light pole over there. Make sense?”

“...yes…”

Lance handed over the handcuffs and the man did as he was told. The detective had heard the car crash earlier, and it worried him.

Before they had left, Lance saw Hanson arrive, which meant the plan was good.

Essentially, their plan revolved around two steps.

The main component was to deal with all of the gangsters holding hostages. For that, Hanson would go on his own to their base and deal with them. If he were to arrive at the drop-off before it happened, everyone would assume that things were going according to plan. Once that was confirmed, all they needed to do was refuse cooperation with the gangsters, which Honey and Lance would do.

That meant everything was going well. All according to plan.

But the crashing car was an anomaly. Sure, it could have been completely random, but it didn’t feel random. There was something else to it.

Lance hurried back to the scene just in time to watch the man named Arco vanish with both Vasquez children.

***

“What happened!?”

Lenore dropped to his knees in confusion. He had been crying tears of joy earlier, but now they were tears of despair. What he had seen was devilcraft; something completely unnatural and impossible to describe. It made him sick to his stomach that his children were attacked by something like that.

“Don’t worry, old man,” Hanson said. “I’ll chase after him.”

“Not on your own, you won’t.”

Lance strode over and dropped the briefcase full of cash onto the ground. From the opposite direction, a very smug Honey and dismayed Mr. Brown approached. Lastly, Luise rolled Lance’s motorcycle over. The detective eyed her suspiciously.

“The cops are coming,” Honey said. “Did something happen? I missed it.”

“Max and Max were kidnapped by Arco.”

“Wait, they’re names are both Max? How did I never realize that…how could you give them both the same name?”

But Lenore wasn’t in much shape to answer such questions. He shook his head.

“Can you get my children back?”

“Of course,” both Lance and Hanson said at the same time. Slightly quieter, Honey said: “If you pay us.”

“Then please, help me. I know I’ve already asked for a lot, but I’ll pay whatever you want; just help me get my children back.”

***

Standing on the top of a government building, Arco dropped down to his knees and vomited out a stomach full of black fluid that splattered all over the ground. His vision was blurred, and when he rubbed his face, his arms came back covered in the grease. Not only had he just teleported with more weight than ever before, he had done it multiple times. The toll on his body was more intense than he could’ve imagined.

The pain was so overwhelming that he curled up into a ball and cried as his body bled fuel.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkk.

This was an intense pain. More so than he had ever felt. This was to the point where his pores were even leaking. How much fuel did he waste? How much more was left in his body?

The stress was too much to be able to tell.

Fuck.

Eventually, his body stabilized and Arco sat up. Completely surrounding where he lay was a black outline that had stained the rooftop. Just slightly further on each side were the hostages, their chests moving up and down.

There was something earlier that stood out to Arco. When he had knocked out Maxwell, the kid had tried to grab him. Rather than protecting his face, he chose to instead reach out and touch. There was meaning to that. When the kid touched him, something moved inside the blackness that was Arco’s insides. As though it were being rearranged.

Could it be possible?

The only thing that came to Arco’s mind was a devil’s blessing. A devil’s contract.

That Who Presides Over Flesh.

Arco found himself soon standing over the unconscious form of Maxwell Vasquez. Were they contracted to the same devil? If they were…

***

A little known fact about daemons:

Blessings are strong, but they become stronger upon devouring the essence of a daemonic brother. Of course, it required killing them and eating their hearts.

***

He’d be able to test it through the blood. The filth of a daemon was immortalized in their flesh. As someone who was forced into cannibalism years ago, Arco had no difficulty slicing Maxwell’s wrist and bringing it up to his mouth to drink in the free flowing blood.

Yes, there it was.

The acidic taste of a daemon.