Satan finds it difficult to run in ankle-deep demon blood. He wishes Asmodeus didn’t have to be so unnecessarily repulsive. To be perfectly honest, Satan doesn’t even have a plan. He’s known that whenever he leaves his hotel room, there’s a good chance some DLF nerd is going to try and make a move, but his plan for that has always just been shoot or die. This sudden change of tactics is likely going to lead to the latter option. Regardless, what does he have to lose? If Satan is shot to pieces or torn apart or whatever, he’ll just wake up on the beach like usual. Why not take the risk? Why not try something different? Satan reaches the fire escape staircase. He stops and thinks for a moment. The sound of Asmodeus barrelling after him speeds the decision-making process up a few notches. Satan chooses to go to the ground floor and escape through the front entrance. He sprints down the spiralling concrete steps, almost tripping on multiple occasions. Asmodeus’ bulbous body explodes into the stairwell above him.

‘NOT WORTHY!’ he screams again, as if Satan didn’t already hear him.

Satan spares a glance upwards. Black goo is dripping off the stairs above, and he can see flashes of exposed tendons, as bright red as the Sheol sky on a summer’s day. Satan decides to take another risk. He peers over the railing designed to stop idiots from falling down the centre of the spiralling stairwell. It’s certainly a long way down. Satan figures that jumping would be an unwise decision.

‘NOT WORTHY!’

Satan jumps. The concrete steps rush past him as he falls. He hopes his partial immortality will leave him in a state still capable of movement after he hits the ground. Satan hits the ground. Black blood, his this time, flies. Not a good sign. Satan tries to stand up. The jagged bone sticking out of his thigh says no. Satan says yes. He hobbles out of the fire escape, gritting his teeth against the pain. He can feel his bones rattle. Are bones supposed to rattle? For the sake of his sanity, Satan assumes they are. Satan surveys the casino’s ground floor, making a crucial observation: this isn’t the casino’s ground floor. It’s the parking garage in the basement. Satan realizes he’s an idiot. Of course the bottom of the fire escape wouldn’t be on the ground floor. He needs to find another way out of the basement, and quick. Before he can move, the ceiling caves in, releasing a torrent of black sludge and a very angry Asmodeus. His bloated, blood-shot eyeballs centre on Satan, and his cracked lips pull back in a vicious snarl.

‘YOU’RE NOT –‘

Asmodeus is interrupted by a bullet entering his left eyeball. Satan shoves the revolver back in his pocket and makes a break for it. His leg has begun to heal itself. Most of the bone is covered by skin again. Good. Satan limps as fast as he can to the right, crossing his fingers and hoping that this is the correct way. A leathery hand wraps around Satan’s ankles. He falls to the ground.

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‘YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY THAT EASILY, SEVEN!’

Satan fumbles for his gun and shoots Asmodeus’ other eye out. The demon recoils, shrieking in pain. Satan climbs to his feet and finds he can run fairly normally now. His leg still aches, though. He ignores the dull throbbing and sprints past rows of expensive parked cars, looking left and right for a glowing green exit sign.

‘GET HIM!’ roars Asmodeus.

The cars begin to melt into black goo just like the people upstairs did. Satan has a bad feeling about this. He rounds a support pillar and finally sees an exit sign nestled into an alcove. Satan sprints towards it, hoping its presence means there’s a door nearby. That’s what exit signs typically indicate, right? The black car goo beats him to the punch, rushing along the floor in rivers and streams. The goo reaches the sign in seconds, climbing up the wall and infesting it with its demonic essence. Satan stops in his tracks. Behind him is a blind Asmodeus. Before him is some weirdness going down inside an exit sign. Before Satan can make his decision, the sign explodes, sending beams of neon green light flashing throughout the parking garage. Satan pulls his gun out once more. Three bullets left. From the wreckage of the sign, a lone, humanoid figure drops down. It has no distinguishing details, nor any depth to its image. It’s an entirely two-dimensional, green silhouette. The little man in the exit sign blown up to six feet in height. The green man makes a gesture at Satan, but he can’t tell what it is with the gesture confined to two axis of movement. It seemed to be aggressive in nature. Asmodeus created the green man, so aggressive is a likely disposition for it. The green man charges at Satan. He can hear Asmodeus flopping about behind him. Satan curses himself once more for being an idiot as he presses his gun to his chin and fires. He had been so hung up on death being a state of failure that he hadn’t considered death being a tool of escape. Satan digs his way out of the beach and falls onto his back. His breathing is heavy and exhausted. Sweat glistens on his pale skin. His body still aches from his fall. He swears one of his horns was snapped in half. Satan closes his eyes and tries to rest. No, now’s not the time. Asmodeus was angry. Properly, truly furious. All of Satan’s previous encounters with the dullahan boy had been strictly professional affairs. Efficient killings. Minimal words. Somehow, this time, Satan had done something to seriously tick Asmodeus off. Was it because he shot Asmodeus’ head? Satan had done that before without a similar reaction. Because he had laughed at Asmodeus’ request to take care of Beelzebub and Lilith? Perhaps it was some external cause. Whatever the case, Satan needs some kind of strategy for when Asmodeus comes for him. Satan sits up and looks out to the ocean; that vast, blue expanse. It’s hard to imagine that it’s all in his head. The sun is setting, casting its orange glow across the waves. The salty wind blows cool and gentle. Satan wonders if this will be a view he’ll be seeing for the rest of his life. What if he never escapes Winchward Beach? What if the DLF really has won? If they have, Satan Seven will not accept it.

‘FOUND YOU!’ cracks a voice as loud as lighting. Satan spins around and gasps. A hundred metres tall, with a brand new body of writhing black worms, is Asmodeus.