A waft of the earthy, slightly sweet smell of high quality leather floated past Melek's nostrils as he walked toward the warehouse. After a few steps, he reflexively shot a glance at his car, a habit he picked up while living in New York. In that city, you can never be too careful.

Bulging gray clouds enveloped the sky. It was supposed to have rained by then based on the weather report, yet the pavement remained bone dry. Melek cursed under his breath. He had planned on using the rain as a means of masking his approach, but forty years on this earth had taught him that things rarely go as planned.

With a hastened pace, he made his way toward Fielder's wholesale food warehouse. The expansive structure exhibited the traits of most warehouses, a plain beige building with a focus on functionality over aesthetic.

Melek circled the building from a safe distance until he saw the ramps and industrial-sized doors typical of all loading docks. Even though the warehouse was said to be closed on Sundays, barging through the front doors of a criminal hideout was not in his plans.

Until his arrival in Covington eight years ago, the idea of demons congregating never even crossed his mind. Regardless of the city, he usually found them alone, since their chances of being spotted skyrocketed if they were in groups. There was that summer in Indiana when he caught one in a crowded casino, but that was the only exception that came to mind.

Arc—one of the demon hunter's four members and the person closest to what could be described as their leader—explained to Melek why demonic activity seemed to have dipped so harshly. It wasn't due to some spontaneous purge or supernatural event. They had all gone into hiding, joining forces to ostensibly take over the world of underground crime. From weapons and counterfeit clothing to drugs and even prostitution, if you needed to purchase something illegal, you had to go through them.

Melek had met his fair share of demons, each one exhibiting their own distinctive personality. Detestable, but uniquely so. Who or what could have gotten such a horrendous group of addicts and criminals to display the discipline and discretion necessary to thrive in the world of organized crime?

That's when Arc informed him of La'el, the overseer of Hell, who had entered a human vessel in order to wreak havoc on the physical plane. This revelation baffled Melek, questioning if the masked creature had any knowledge of this.

After eight grueling years of lamenting over the countless number of investigatory dead ends, they had finally managed to come across a demon cowardly enough to share the location of one of their major hideouts, housing Aayan, a big player in their organization. It took Agni—another member of the group—days to get the information out of him. Using a variety of methods so cruel that for a brief moment, the demon's cries of anguish arose a hint of pity out of Melek.

He dug into his sheath holster and pulled out his hatchet, inspecting the blade one last time. This holster had a tiny side pocket where he kept his emergency pair of earbuds. He sheathed his hatchet and pulled out his earbuds to check the battery life, even though the advertisement claimed they would last an entire year on one full charge. There were times when he'd forgotten that he even had an emergency pair, since in-ear headphones had become a thing of the past.

A figure appeared out of the corner of his eye wearing a solid black raincoat and sunglasses—his aura a smooth outline around his body. In the past, Melek would have easily dismissed him as human. But upon encountering his first crop of demons in Covington, he noticed that they had learned how to emulate a human's aura. He was aware of masking one's aura to not draw too much attention to oneself, but changing it entirely was a new concept to him, something every demon seemingly now knew how to do.

After several interactions with these evolved demons, he developed a discerning eye, picking up on the subtle differences between a carbon copy and the real thing.

Melek surveyed the loading dock for security cameras, counting three of them located near the top of the building. Fortunately for him, they seemed to have skimped on the camera technology, since these particular units had clear blind spots, not covered by a nearby camera's field of view.

So they went through the trouble of having someone patrol the premises, yet they rely on ancient surveillance technology? Was it hubris that made them so sure of such a bizarre system?

The demon paced across the dock, periodically checking his phone. He had the lax gait of someone who had patrolled this area time and time again, never once coming across so much as a minor inconvenience.

Melek's eyes followed the patroller as he moseyed past the dock doors and turned the corner. With the coast clear, he bolted toward a dead zone sandwiched between two rotating cameras. He vigorously rubbed his flaring left knee as he hugged the building.

Melek looked up to the large steel frame windows above the row of sectional dock doors. A sigh escaped his lips as he inched toward the nearest door.

In his current state, he didn't have the athleticism needed to jump high enough to grab the top of the loading door seal and reach the window. Melek audibly groaned. Relying on his powers for anything other than killing demons violated his contract.

Fuck the contract, Melek thought. This is Aayan we're talking about. Besides, I'm still technically using my powers to help rid the world of demons, though indirectly.

With that, he lifted his pointer finger and tapped his temple twice. He heard two faint beeps, signaling that his chip had turned on.

Melek was hesitant to chip technology at first. He had seen his fair share of techno-dystopic movies. But as the years passed, and after enough guinea pigs sang its praises, he eventually gave in to the convenience of no longer having to rely on headphones to access his powers.

The chip sent electrical signals directly to his auditory nerve, in turn sending signals to his brain, producing sound that only he could hear.

Melek gave his temple another tap, starting "Blood in the Streets." Trumpets filled his headspace. He bobbed his head until the funky beat drop gave him a jolt of energy. Bloodlust began consuming him, but he centered himself by focusing on the task at hand.

With one gracious leap, he grabbed the top of the loading door and pulled himself up. Now standing on the protruding dock seal, he looked up at the window and jumped, planting both feet on its sill.

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He squinted to get a better look through the tinted window, revealing rows of what appeared to be industrial-sized shelving units.

He moved his face closer to the glass, desperately trying to get a clearer view, placing both hands on the window for support.

Unfortunately, not only was this a pivot window, it was unlocked.

His heart dropped as he slid down the opened window, bracing himself right before slamming face first onto one of the metal shelving units. He reached for his right eye, music still blaring in his ears. Trying to get his bearings, he rolled over, almost falling off if not for him holding onto one of the beams.

But of course, this particular unit was almost empty, so his weight tipped the entire thing over. Melek fell, landing on his back, blood covering the right side of his face as the unit came crashing down.

He caught it just in time, pushing it away so forcefully that it flew into the adjacent shelving unit.

Melek shot up, using a hand to cover his eye, crimson blood obscuring his vision as he got a sense of his surroundings. Pallet jacks, storage bins, forklifts, and shelving units were the only things he saw. Not a soul in sight, an eerie feeling.

His mission was to scout the warehouse and gather as much information as he could while remaining undetected. And he had managed to fail so spectacularly that he caught himself smiling at the ridiculousness of it all. What a mess I've made. Thankfully, while in this mode, exhilarated by the lyrics seeping into his essence, he was devoid of feeling shame. Now all he wanted to do was punch something. Hard.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he sped away. If there were people here, he did not want to be caught in a compromising position while in an unfamiliar location.

He turned a corner and stopped in his tracks, startled by the hulking man standing before him. Even under such dim lighting, the behemoth's diamond chain and golden rings glimmered brightly. Both of his arms were in the air, as if surrendering to the police, a golden handkerchief tightly wrapped around his right hand.

Melek glared at the man, a look of indifference meeting his gaze. Focusing on his aura revealed to him that this man was actually another demon, dark brown contact lenses hiding his vile red eyes.

The gaudy demon placed his golden handkerchief on the ground and took several steps back while keeping his hands above his head. He started speaking, but the looping baseline playing in Melek's ears blocked his words from reaching him.

With two taps to his temple, the music stopped, gradually bringing Melek back to normal. No longer relying on his powers brought attention to the pulsating wound near his right eye, obscuring his vision.

While keeping his eye glued to the demon, he walked toward the handkerchief. Raindrops pattered against the building's exterior as he reached for the golden piece of cotton.

"The boss wants to see you," the behemoth said with a face as still as stone.

Melek pressed the handkerchief against his right eye, still glaring with his left. "Is Aayan your boss?"

The demon's face twitched, subtly. "Please follow me." He spun around and started walking, his hands now resting in his pockets. Each step causing his jewelry to rustle softly.

Melek took one tentative step after another, trailing behind him as they passed endless rows of boxed foodstuffs. Eventually, they reached the door to a modular office. A pearl white structure with tinted window panels, accented with golden corner posts. How tacky, Melek thought as he removed the soaked handkerchief from his face. A lump formed in his throat when he saw drops of blood coating his new jacket.

The demon opened the door to the lavishly furnished office space, color coordinated with its exterior. Opposite to them was a large wooden desk painted solid gold, its sheeny finish glistening.

Behind the desk sat a morbidly obese man donning an all white suit, surrounded by four men, about the same size as the giant that led him there. Melek glanced at the suit's ripple free shoulder line, a sign of quality.

Using the back of his plump, ring covered hand, the finely dressed man wiped away beads of sweat from his face, bringing attention to his fully receded hairline. "You must be Part-timer. I love the jacket." His voice was low and icy.

Melek winced, uneasy at the fact that such a ridiculous nickname stuck. "Aayan, I presume?"

The obese man's multiple chins flexed as he presented a dubious smile. "I see my handkerchief was of use. Keep it."

"Thanks."

Aayan's smile vanished. "Who talked?"

Melek recalled the demon's cries of pain, pleading for solace as his body parts were dispassionately burnt to a crisp. "I didn't get a name. Sorry."

Aayan leaned back, his chair creaking in protest. "Oh well," he said with a shrug. He aimed his blue contacts at Melek. "You and your little troupe of freaks have caused me a lot of stress. I've lost good men to that hatchet of yours. Now you decide to stumble into my workplace and destroy some of my precious merchandise? I should kill you where you stand."

Melek's hand twitched as he fought the urge to fling his hatchet through Aayan's fat neck. "Where is La'el? I won't ask twice."

Aayan threw his arms back in laughter, momentarily disarming Melek. "Is that all? You want that coward?" He wiped a tear from his eye. "You seem like a reasonable man. Am I correct in assuming that?"

"Stop wasting my time."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but you're currently surrounded. Please hear me out. I'll make it worth your while."

Melek sighed.

"Thank you. I'd like to offer you a proposition. I'll give you that bastard's location, and in exchange, you tell your little friends that I died today. I've thought about retiring for a while now, and there's no better time than the present. If you accept, you have my word that you'll never hear from us again. Isn't that right, boys?" His henchman nodded in unison, their rattling chains creating a symphony of excess.

"And if I refuse?"

"I wouldn't if I were you," he said while shooting quick glances at his underlings.

"Fair enough. But I have one question: Why are you so willing to give La'el up?"

"He's nothing more than a toothless shark. I—I mean we, were promised the world." His tone was venomous. "But after meeting one human, he abandoned his plans and ordered us demons to remain hidden. Knowing we're susceptible to certain impulses, he decided to funnel us into the world of underground crime. He thinks he can placate us!"

A human altered La'el's entire plan? Hearing him characterized in such a way was jarring, to say the least. But more importantly, who was this mystery person? "Fine, I'll tell everyone that I killed you today. Now hurry up and spill it."

Aayan snarled, eyeing Melek up and down. "A lot of arrogance for someone in your position. Well, no matter." He pulled out a fresh sheet of printer paper from a drawer and snapped his fingers at the henchman closest to him, who swiftly pulled out a pen and placed it on the table. Aayan scribbled on the sheet for a few seconds. "Here," he said, handing Melek the piece of paper. "That's his address. It's a bit of a drive from here."

Melek folded the paper and placed it in his pocket. "This better not be a trap."

"You wound me. Has our conversation not been cordial so far?"

Melek turned and sauntered toward the exit, forcing the giant blocking the door to step to the side. "I owe you an apology," Melek said, facing the door. "You've been nothing but accommodating, and I haven't reciprocated that kindness. I now see why you're the boss." He turned his head and smiled at the blubbery demon. "You have something most demons lack."

Aayan squinted. "And what's that?"

Melek lifted his pointer finger and gave his temple a tap. "Brains." He quick drew his water gun, shooting five spurts, each hitting a henchman in the forehead. The earth shook as they collapsed to the ground, squirming in pain as tufts of smoke rose from their faces. Melek holstered his gun, bloodlust taking over as he bobbed his head to the beat.

Aayan froze, terror twisting his hideous face. He spoke, but with music blasting in Melek's ear, it looked as if he was mouthing the lyrics to the song.

Melek pulled out his hatchet while presenting a toothy grin. With one smooth motion, he threw it clean through Aayan's neck.