Sparrow’s wing, cat’s tail. A screaming bird’s mind goes off the rails. His contracts lay down a torturous trail. 21st Century Schizoid Bird.

Pen’s nib, trash sack. Bureaucrat’s mind stays on track. He sees a colorless world to attack. 21st Century Schizoid Bird.

Stormy skies, liar’s prize. Feline demon’s long demise. It’s vengeance in the dead Sparrow’s eyes. 21st Century Schizoid Bird.

---------

The owner didn’t trust him, so Zack was thrown out of the cafe. A shame. He had been so close to securing that cat.

But it didn’t matter. Cats died all the time in the overworld, so he’d find another. He was just unlucky this time.

He strode from the cafe back to his home.

“Stay away from cats.” His father’s stern voice echoed in his mind.

Ironically, it was because of his father that he now actively sought out cats.

In life, his father was hardy sparrow. He had made a nest, found mother, and had sired Zack and his siblings. His siblings had died before he did. They died with father, and Zack lived on. Well, Zack died too... they all died in the end, he supposed. He wished he could have met them in Limbo or Hell, but like every demon knew, not all souls could exist after death.

He didn't really feel strongly about the fact they were gone. They died and stopped existing, beyond his memories.

'It is what it is.' He'd think to himself in acceptance.

But he couldn't accept everything. He had loved his family extremely. And therefore, hated the creature who killed them even more extremely.

He remembered two tall ears, long, sharp whiskers, abyssal slits for eyes, and a maw full of razor teeth made to rend flesh from bone. He remembered the fear he felt when he saw its head looming over the walls of the nest like a calamitous giant, bathing the place in its horrible, horrible breath.

A cat. A monster.

And now, a source of the only activity that seemed to bring him enjoyment in this life.

The feathered demon arrived at his home. He opened the door and strode inside.

Grey soundproofing lined the walls. Red-stained carpets covered the floor. A lamp flicked on, illuminating the place in a cold white light.

Zack looked at the feline bodies on the floor. Their chests moved up and down, but their eyes were very much dead. Subconsciously, he made a low trilling sound in the back of his throat -a bird’s version of humming in delight-.

What a wonderful time to be a demon. To see vengeance carried out. Then again, it wasn’t really about vengeance anymore.

Now, he did it because it was fun.

---------

“I hope you weren’t really going to sign that contract.” Said the tall cafe-owner.

“Oh, well... why not?”

“Maybe because that’s the shadiest sparrow I’ve ever seen. He used to bring cats like you around here. He’d always speak nicely to them, but once they left this shop, I never saw them again. It’s why I kicked him out in the first place.”

That is indeed, quite shady.

“But you should never sign a contract you can’t read, regardless of how shady the other contractor is.” He continues. “Those contracts are magically binding. You could have signed your soul away and become a slave to that bird. What you were about to do is probably one of the dumbest things I have ever seen in my life. And I have seen a lot of stupid people doing a lot of stupid things.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I could have been a slave? Horrifying.

I frown. “Don’t sign things you can’t read. I understand.”

The cafe-territory’s owner looks me up and down and then nods.

“Good.” He says, and then tromps back over to the counter, where some strange muddy drink is being boiled. I think about what just transpired as he works.

I met Zack Sparrow. He offered to take me somewhere quiet, which I had readily accepted. We came to this cafe, and then talked for a while until he mentioned the DMV, and he offered to take me there when I asked about it. But when I was most excited about fulfilling my ambition of getting reincarnated out of this fishless world, he told me I had to sign a contract first.

I don’t remember him telling me anything about what the contract actually said. He just made a few implications that it would make it easier to get into the DMV.

And I almost signed it. I was sleepy, tired, and overwhelmed by the city when the offer was made.

I would have signed that creepy paper if the cafe-owner hadn’t stopped me.

I shiver, realizing just how close I was to complete ruin. And then, I look at the tall demon making drinks behind the counter.

“Hey, Mr... uh...” I don’t know his name.

“It’s Anole Gray. What’s up?”

“Thanks.” I say simply.

He raises an eyebrow, but his expression doesn’t change.

“You’re welcome.” He replies after a moment. “Hey, you got anywhere to go? Somewhere to stay in the city?”

“No.”

He nods, having expected my answer.

“Well, if you want, I can point you to some communal homes run by HENTAI. They provide housing and certain benefits to city newcomers, and help people like you find work in the city.”

That’s... that’s very considerate of him. At first, I thought Mr. Anole was kind of brutish, with how he ejected Zack from his cafe. But now, I realise that he’s not so bad.

But anyways.

“HENTAI? What’s that?” I ask.

“It’s the acronym for Hell’s Enterprise for Non-Torturous Administration Incorporated.” He replies. Under his breath he mutters: “How they got so large with a name like that, I have no idea.”

I ask: “These guys can give me somewhere to stay?”

“There are responsibilities involved, but yes.”

I can work with that.

But...

After seeing how nonthreatening Zack initially appeared, I can’t just rely on someone without knowing about them first.

Wait a moment... by that logic, Anole here isn’t trustworthy either.

I narrow my eyes at him. Is he planning something nefarious?

He reaches out to his drink-boiler and then yanks his hand away, having been burned.

“Yowch.” I hear him hiss.

Probably not.

I guess I wouldn’t mind having his opinion, so I ask: “These HENTAI organization people are trustworthy right?”

He looks up from the hand he was nursing.

“As far as I know, yes. I haven’t read anything about them in the newspaper that would make me think otherwise, and the members I’ve met were pretty nice.”

Well... I’ll have to take this chance then. At least it isn’t as high-stakes as Zack’s contract may have been.

And the newspaper... I’ll have to learn to read. At least that way it’ll be harder to trick me into signing bad contracts.

“Okay then. Please tell me where they are.” I request.

---------

Zack was feeling refreshed, as he worked. He had just finished a session with his pets, and was now as productive as ever. The smell of fresh blood seemed to invigorate his mind the same way that coffee did.

Work emails rolled across his screen.

A newly deceased person requesting to become a demon. Sent to the Transformers Department. His coworker telling him about recent changes in protocol regarding telemarketers. Noted. An assignment to write a summary of the last fifty reincarnations for the Analysis Department. Not due for a while, because of Lord Evel’s absence.

Come to think of it, that cat from before had asked about Lord Evel. Maybe... if the cat somehow made it to the DMV looking for the Lord of Hell, then maybe Zack would see him and get a second chance at ensnaring him.

Well, nothing to think too hard about. It was unlikely that the cat would ever receive Lord Evel’s attention anyways. That was, if his boss’s punishment ever ended.

What was he even being punished for?

Zack’s mind was gripped by curiosity. As he dwelled on the question, the grip tightened.

What the hell. Might as well check it out, just in case his boss’s absence would mess with his job.

Zack’s talons ran across the keyboard, searching up one of his tracker programs. With a practised finger, he clicked on the relevant icon and ran the tracker. After inputting the password to Sylvester Stallion’s work email, he was in.

[

From: Carl, King of Hell ([email protected])

To: Sylvester Stallion, Royal Officer ([email protected])

Got Knievel down in the basement torture room. He was messing with the mortal’s space program. Please make sure he hasn’t escaped.

Sincerely,

Carl, King of Hell

]

A year or so ago, Zack had managed to sneak a peek at one of King Carl’s underling’s private email information. From there, he had searched for programs and systems designed to access other devices. After a while, he found some.

Sylvester Stallion didn’t use the proper protective software, so his computer was fair game to people like Zack. Small miracles.

The email was in regards to his boss. Lord Evel was apparently being punished for doing something in the overworld. Messing with mortal space-programs? He knew his boss was crazy, but this was crazier than normal.

Well, that meant that by estimation, he wouldn’t be seeing Lord Evel for the next... few weeks. Maybe month. A shame, as his presence seemed to make work go faster. But Zack would live.

He exited Stallion’s device and stopped running the tracker.

The Sparrow sniffed the bloody air of his home and made sounds of contentment.

His job was going well and so was his hobby.

Life was good.