“Mr. Mittens! Where are you baby?”

The little old lady shuffled through her house carefully, her fuzzy slippers never more than an inch from the floor, as she searched for her cat. All of his usual spots- the back of the couch, the kitchen rug warmed by the afternoon sun, and the mantle where her husband's urn rested- sat empty.

An uncommon occurrence, but not entirely unexpected. Mr. Mittens liked to ramble, after all.

Before she could resort to the rather drastic measure of checking under the bed or behind other furniture, the doorbell rang.

“Just a second!” She huffed as she abandoned the search for the errant feline.

Swinging the door open slowly, she adjusted her glasses and squinted through the thick lenses at the stranger on her front step. Tall, dark haired, and well dressed- the man cut an impressive figure.

“Can I help you?”

A broad smile crossed the man's face, warm and friendly. A predatory gleam flashed across his eyes, there and gone before the woman's poor vision could even register it.

“Mrs. Miranda Walters?” At the woman's nod, he reached out and shook her hand gently. “My name is Cam Bean Berith. I'm here to offer you a wonderful opportunity, if you have a moment to hear me out?”

“Oh, well...” Miranda hesitated. She had heard so many horror stories of people being swindled by con artists, and his opening spiel certainly seemed along those lines... But some weird feeling made her want to trust this stranger. “I'm sorry. I don't know what you are selling, but I don't really need anything and-”

“Oh it's not a product I'm selling Mrs. Walters, but an investment opportunity.” He smiled reassuringly as he checked something on the small tablet he held. “Specifically an opportunity to invest for your grandchildren's college education. My records say you have three grandchildren, all of them in high school. Correct?”

“Well, yes...”

Cam tucked away the tablet for a moment, raising his hands in an apologetic wave. “I understand. I came on a little too strong with my opening pitch, ma'am. If you would like, I can just leave some papers explaining the details. You can take your time to look them over and call me back. If you're interested that is.”

Leaning in slightly, he whispered almost conspiratorially to her. “Between you and me, that's probably a good idea. Get your kids to look over it with you and take your time to work out all the details. Really make sure it's the right investment for you.”

Miranda wavered for a moment before a grandmotherly smile crossed her face. That's very kind of you. Maybe you could take just a few minutes to explain it to me? Oh! Where are my manners? Please, come in. Would you like something to drink?”

As she turned to lead him into the house, a wolfish smile crossed Cam's face. “Thank you, ma'am. Some water would be great-”

He froze mid-step, eyes going wide. An orange tabby cat sat in the middle of the hall, staring unblinkingly at him as his foot hovered over the threshold. Slowly it raised a single, bone white paw and began to groom it.

A dainty claw peaked out with every pass of its tongue... And the cat never broke eye contact with him.

“Mr. Mittens! I've been looking all over for you!. Come say hello to the nice man... You said your name is Cam, right?”

Cam was silent for several seconds before lowering his foot and hurriedly taking two steps back. “Ah, y-yes. Yes ma'am.” He roughly cleared his throat as he shifted awkwardly in place. “I apologize, but I should probably be going. I... I'm deathly allergic to cats, you see.”

He laughed awkwardly for a second before turning around and rushing off, not even waiting for a response.

“What...? My, that was odd. What do you think Mr. Mittens?”

“Mr. Mittens? Now where did you get off to this time?”

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Cam left the neighborhood quickly, cutting across a small park in his haste. The gently meandering path let out into a small clearing with picnic table, and he drew up short... As the orange tabby was sitting there, waiting for him.

“L-look... I didn't know someone was already working the old lady, ok? I wouldn't have tried it otherwise. No harm, no foul. Right?”

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When the cat took a single step in his direction, Cam turned to run... Only to find the way blocked. By a large, black and white Pit Bull.

That immediately growled at him.

“Now what is some trash Cambion doing trolling around this sleepy town? And preying on a little old lady? Kinda sad, honestly. You can drop the illusion, by the way. There's no one nearby, and I'm sure its a strain for someone so... weak.”

Cam turned towards the cultured, and surprisingly deep, sounding voice. The cat had moved to sit on one of the picnic tables, and it waved vaguely to the bench near it before it spoke again. “And please, do sit. I hate having to stare up so far.”

Cam hesitated for a second before he shrugged with a sigh- and dropped the illusion he had been maintaining. In an instant, the creamy white skin turned ashen gray and a single horn sprouted from his left temple. “It's just my luck that I go for what should be an easy soul... and run into a fucking Hellcat.”

He threw a glance at the dog, which had thankfully stopped growling. Slumping onto the wooden bench, he shook his head slowly. “And a fucking Hellhound... I thought you two didn't get along?”

The cat glanced at the dog before giving a very human shrug. “Most of us don't. But Spot and I have... history, shall we say?”

With a shake of its feline head, the cat waved off the demon sitting in front of it. “And him showing up suddenly means we have business to attend to. So, off with you then. Just don't let me catch you sniffing around here anymore, understand?”

“Oh, and warn you friends as well. I would hate to have to kill them.” It warned with a hiss, baring its tiny, yet sharp, fangs.

Cam took the warning to heart as he fled.

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“Spot? Seriously?”

The duo walked side by side, a smug smile stretched across the feline face as it glanced at its companion. “Well, I certainly wouldn't give your True Name to the likes of that one. Would you prefer 'Fido' next time?”

The cat chuffed a laugh before being promptly swatted off the path, causing 'Spot' to bark in laughter of his own. “Eh, whatever works... Mr. Mittens. I can't believe you would actually cozy up to an old lady like that.”

Mittens shook a leaf from his head and glared at Spot for a moment. “It is a perfectly acceptable cover for my presence here... And, admittedly, I quite like being pampered and petted. Not all of us enjoy roaming the streets like a flea bitten stray.”

Waving a paw with all the dignity he could muster, he brushed away the subject. “Shall we move on to more pressing matters? What job do you need my help with?”

Spot glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Who said there's a job?” An annoyed huff was the only response, and he shrugged. “Fine, fine. This is a good one, though. Sent straight from a Prince, no less!”

Mittens stopped walking suddenly and turned to face his companion. “Straight from a Prince? But they only do that when Angels are involved... Or...”

“Or when they want us to deal with a Hole!” Spot nearly pranced in excitement.

Mittens sighed theatrically and swatted his friend's nose. “Settle down, you buffoon. This is serious! And its not a 'hole'. Well, I supposed technically it is a hole, just one in reality itself. The correct term would be 'Portal' or 'Rift', depending on a number of factors. Primarily what is on the other side, or what comes through-”

“It's those freaky monsters! You remember last time we got to kill those?”

“You mean the only time? That was around four hundred years ago... But yes, I do remember. It was a mess... Though I suppose I did enjoy it. Nothing like a challenge, eh?”

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The pair stared openly at the glowing purple Rift, mostly ignoring the mad whispers and feelings of dread.

“I'm surprised we were assigned to this. These Rifts are fairly rare, after all, and the Legions of Wrath like to claim them whenever they can.”

Spot snorted in amusement at his friend. “Yeah, we got lucky. The Legion is off fighting or something... And we almost didn't get this one.”

Mittens' ear twitched in surprised, and he cocked his head in curiosity. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Some human was slated to handle the next Hole-er, I mean Rift. Whatever. Anyway, this was supposed to go to the human... But two of these things popped up! So he got the first one and we got this one!”

Mittens turned to stare in shock. “A human is supposed to handle a Rift?”

“That's the rumor. I asked around, but no one can confirm it. And nobody knows who this human is supposed to be. But, if he ain't a complete badass, then he's probably dead.”

Spot turned a toothy grin at his friend. “Then maybe we can go clean up the other one!”

Before Mittens could respond, a wet plopped jerked his attention back to the Rift where a creature was struggling to gain its feet. “Well, would you like to go first? It is only fair; after all, you did help me corner that foolish Cambion.”

Spot pranced in place for a moment. “Thanks, bud! Though I'm sure you could have handled him by yourself, I'm glad to help my partner.”

And Spot changed.

Shedding the mundane pretense he normally wore when on Earth, he assumed his true form. The white parts of his fur darkened to black, then the black darkened further until it seemed to draw in and absorb the light nearby. His frame shifted and cracked as he grew until he was nearly as tall as a man, even while still on four legs. Sharp fangs, wicked claws, and a mass of muscle that easily weighed five hundred pounds...

And his eyes, previously calm black pools, now burned with crackling flames.

“Guess its time to 'raise a little Hell', eh?” Spot laughed uproariously.

Mittens covered his feline face with a paw, more at the embarrassment of such a bad pun than to avoid witnessing the carnage about to be unleashed.

“Why are we friends?”