He came upon a long hallway of doors. All of them had cracks of light showing under an otherwise pitch-black corridor. Inside each, he could hear different sounds. On his left, babies crying, to his right, it sounded like gunfire from an 1865 Gatling gun, a staccato racket, guncrack loud. He continued down the hall, listening to all the noises, the professions of love, lust, loathing, and everything in between. In the back of his mind, the little rational part that refused to be taken off-line reminded him of what would happen at the end of the road.

As usual, he chose to ignore it. He continued through the passage, knowing what lay in store. It was futile, really, trying to deny himself to coming to the door at the end of the hall. It was fruitless to keep his shaking hands from twisting the knob. It was in vain to keep him from opening the door and stepping inside.

All his life, the same image flooded into his mind. It was a boy, tied to a cross, being violated by a monstrous creature, rubbing its rough skin against his, causing it to bleed. The boy's dark blue eyes wavered, looking at him for solace. The beast turned to him, as if smelling his scent. It growled at him and lunged at him. He always pulled out something and threw it at the creature, causing it to rear in indignation. It would then suddenly shrivel, its bulging flesh becoming soft, supple, its beady eyes popping out some, becoming a nice shade of azure. It began to grow blonde hair.

After it (she) was completely transformed, the girl would fall naked to the floor.

He awakened with a thin sheen of sweat covering his features. He leaned back in his bed, trying again in vain to figure out who the two other people in this were. In his dream, he knew them, but in the waking world, he didn't. It had consumed him his entire life. It was never going away for him.

* * *

Everywhere.

They were everywhere.

And he had to destroy them all. They all had the evil in them. Well, not all of them, but it was infecting more and more people every day. He saw them. Through their homes, waiting, plotting.

Plotting the end of it all. He was the chosen one. He among all people was to protect the good. Deus (which is what the deity who spoke to wanted to be referred to by) said that no one would believe him, and it was right. Deus told him in order to save humanity; he must find the one the evil one chose as its mate. (Deus was never clear as to what gender the evil one was) but when it reached the universe, it would take the form of a woman, and seduce him into partaking of the fire between her legs.

If he found him, Deus said, and killed him; the world would be saved. He had killed several times, in hopes that Deus would stop, and the visions and second sight would be gone.

He woke up in the morning, not rested from his slumber.

* * *

He felt smothered, her embrace choking his scream and the breath that carried it. He choked on her tongue, his eyes welled in tears, but none fell. His body was so defenseless from her corrugated touch. Why couldn't let it go? Why couldn't detach and stand back, and let this succubus do what she wanted? No. He felt her touch across his thighs, forcing them open, ripping apart the ropes that bound them there, causing them to bleed. He felt her take his cock in her hands, and force it into herself.

Despite his moral objection, his lust took over. He pumped into her, over and over again, moaning and giving small, terrified shrieks, inaudible over the cacophonic laughter.

He screamed and fell off the bed, kicking and struggling in the sheets.

"Hey, what happened?" The blonde pilot ran to his roommate's bedside, shaken from sleep by his screams.

"Nothing, I just had a nightmare. You don't need to worry. It must have been something I ate," he said, attempting to laugh it off, praying he didn't notice his bleeding wrists.

"All right. As long as you are all right," Quatre smiled reassuringly, and patted his hand.

"Good night."

"Good night."

He lay in his bed and shivered until morning.

* * *

This body is finally ready. I thought I would never get her soul out, but I managed.

Slumber works wonders. Especially prolonged ones by my doing. It was hard getting her to leave, but I knew she'd see it my way.

I am, after all, Lucifer, son of morning.

I recall her asking why her body, why not a man's body? It was quite simple, really. I've tried being the man before. It sucks, it really does. I mean, the only good thing about it is that I have more fun. But hell, since in roughly 22 years, I'll have all the fun I want, I'll wait, after all if God can be patient, so can I.

If I was the man, I'd have to protect that bitch for nine months until the child was born, and then, I'd have her influence on it in it's early years, and then it's later years, and before I know it, my little Hades is a little Nancy Boy. I can't have that if I want to rip control from God, he'd laugh my ass outta the cosmos.

And what about her needs huh? Do this, do that. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Grr, she wouldn't survive 1 month, let alone 9. Of course, this also sends the biggest blow to God, because I like to go against the flow in a counter-culture style, just to piss the big guy off. And besides, who'd accuse little ol' me?

She should be ready soon. And soon, I can rule it all. I can hardly wait.

* * *

End part one.

Please write to me and tell me what you think.

Please don't take this the wrong way, and flame me for being a Satanist. I may not be Christian, but I do not think Satan is my infernal master. This just what I think Satan might be like. I would act like this if I were Satan (which I'm not.) Please keep this in mind before you flame me.

Thanks!

-Mikata