The first one born on Earth

As always, he visited one of his women on the first Wednesday of the month. A couple of weeks before his own death. He had a lot of exes, five to be exact, and almost every one of them had a child. The man was never attracted to family life, but in general, his income was sufficient not only to invest in the necessary schemes and multiply his own wealth, but also to support this whole brood, almost without touching it in any way. Children seemed stupid and useless to him until about the age of sixteen, when they could already be sent to work or at least to work part-time, but they were quite funny creatures. Looking at the micro-man who was happily and indistinctly muttering something as he ran out to meet him, the man roughly understood why his older brother did not leave him to hell when they had difficulties after the death of their parents. The little ones are funny. Coiled, stupid, noisy, but funny enough to put up with their company for a day or two. — You could stay with him, — the woman said, while the little one went to his room to bring him something. This woman of his was a believer. That's probably why her child was so obedient and the least problematic. Discipline in this particular house was much better maintained than in the house of one of the whores. But there was a problem, this woman seemed to really love him, not just his money, and a man couldn't respond to such a feeling under any circumstances. — We've already discussed this, ― he sighed. ― You know that's not for me. I love my job. Your creativity and business. I don't want to give it all up. But with this life it is was wrong to contact children even indirectly. — But... — The man interrupted her, gesturing for her not to continue. — Don't bring up the subject of God and my soul in front of me, please. My head started to ache from these conversations. — This woman had some idea about his past, but, to give her credit, she did not use this information as blackmail in front of the public, but only as arguments during a conversation about his personal salvation. ― You know I don't believe in heaven. And eternal happiness too. ― That's not what I wanted to say, ― the woman seemed sad and disappointed. She had beautiful chemically curled locks of black hair and a dress with a long skirt like housewives in the fifties. — I just thought it would make your life safer. All this news about cartels... It's not going to end well for you. — Don't worry about me, bebé de azúcar,― the man smiled. ― If something happens to me, the world will not collapse from it. — But Carlos will miss you, — she still knew how to touch a nerve, but it would be stupid to even be offended or angry at such a thing. He himself understood that the children would be bored, so he tried not to visit any of his women too often. So that the children don't get attached to him, and he doesn't get attached to them. He wanted to say something, but just at that moment, the little one returned. Carlos, muttering something about cats, held out a ring in the form of a long and sharp claw for his little finger. The woman explained to him that she and little shrimp had recently gone to an exhibition of Chinese art and Carlos was impressed by the brass nail cases of Chinese princesses. She said that the child immediately remembered that the man had a long nail on his little finger, which was carefully guarded. The man used this nail to measure out the dose of drugs, but the childish naive nature saw in it something noble enough to compare with the ancient nobility. It's a pity that the little one will be disappointed when he grows up and understands a little more, but that will be later. In the meantime, the man just took the jewelry and carefully put it on his finger. It was the right size and looked very, very beautiful. Stylish. It looks like real gold. Two weeks later, this jewelry was stuck in his throat at the execution, when one of the punishers finally got to him.

***

In Hell, Valentino nervously tapped a copper claw on the tabletop, sitting at a restaurant table in a neutral territory. Seeing Alastor at a meeting with a saint was expected to some extent, especially considering that this deer works at the hotel for some reason, but still unpleasant. Holy Sister Mary was clearly dissatisfied with such a tense situation and from time to time tried to defuse it, albeit not very successfully. The demons continued to exchange caustic witticisms. ― That's enough, ― the woman exhaled irritably, massaging her temples as if she had a headache. ― I remind you that we are here for work. Valentino, put away the gun you pointed at Alastor under the table and think I can't see it. And you, Alastor, hide the roots. If they are behind me, out of my sight, it does not mean that I am unaware of their presence. — It's just a precautionary measure, — Val smiled, putting the barrel on the counter next to his coffee cup, but he didn't put the safety on. — We're not in Heaven. — Which could have been gone a month ago, — Alastor smiled as always, but a little differently. More painful, crooked, and frightening. There was a rustle of black whips behind him, which disappeared underground again. — Thanks to your lover. — It's very funny that you're the one who appreciates my work connections so tenderly, — Val said sarcastically, continuing to monotonously tap his copper claw on the table. ―That's enough, — Maria said again more sternly, slamming a folder of papers on the table between them, which almost caused the gun to fall off the edge of the tabletop. The restaurant had been empty for a long time, few people wanted to spend lunch in the company of two Overlords and a saint. ― We need both of you, and preferably, if not in a good, then at least adequate business relationship, in which you are able to tolerate each other enough so as not to start a conflict in the negotiations. The Saints' offer was interesting. Strange, but interesting. It consisted in the fact that sinners had to be denied too often. There were quite a few people in Hell who just wanted to go to Heaven in order to establish their own rules there and avenge their extermination. Such people could not redeem themselves by default, simply because they were not going to follow the instructions of the saints, and even more so the useless advice of the infernal princess. They demanded to give them what they want, right now and preferably for free. And, logically, they held a grudge against the Saints because, unlike the princess of hell, they were not going to give or promise anything without effort on the part of sinners. The funny creatures thought that Holy Sister Mary or Father Francis were as naive and simple-minded as Princess Morningstar. But by no means. During his lifetime, Val remembered them in as fair and kind, but far from stupid people. They hid them in the walls of the church for a long time only because they were able to agree on the organization of such a shelter with Don Leonelli, who was more than successful in his lifetime and now in hell. With Carmine he didn't get into a fight over territories, but sold guns and ammunition to fans of a good fight together. Good and effective cooperation in one word. The saints were never afraid to dirty their hands with agreements with the mafia and bandits during their lifetime, and they clearly will not be afraid of this after death. Especially for the sake of a cause in which they believe wholeheartedly. — I came here on behalf of the Virgin Sif, and Alastor on behalf of Lord Cain, ― Maria reminded. — And we need demons like you, Valentino, to show the higher powers that sinners are willing to work for the future of both our worlds and change the structure of hell itself. — I'm not interested in atonement for sins,― Valentino remarked in a bored tone, picking up a folder of papers and starting to look through the contract. Most of it was devoted, oddly enough, to the continuation of his activities at the porn studio and partly to the commitment not to attack neutral territory for redemption in the form of a hotel. — I won't ask you why, — Maria sighed. ― But that's exactly what we need. Your desire to torment sinful souls is almost as great as Mr. Alastor's, and yours... specialization, suitable for the plans of Mr. Cain and his colleagues. ― There are a lot of points here devoted to reports on lifetime sins, which I will receive in my hands, ― said Val. ― What is the reason for your desire to give a crowd of perverts, rapists, child molesters and other wastes of humanity under my full control? I doubt you're interested in increasing my power with a bunch of new soul contracts. Not that Valentino objected to this arrangement. On the contrary, the offer was even too generous and surprisingly completely coincided with his plans to acquire new souls for his porn studio. Souls like Angel, whom it was a real pleasure to break and torture day after day with extreme cruelty. But the strange thing was that the Holy Sister would even suggest something so God-defying. ― This is a generous offer from Mr. Cain. The murderer of all murderers and the sinner of all sinners, — Alastor replied. — In exchange for a couple of completely trivial commitments. The reverence with which the egocentric son of a bitch painted the regalia of the first sinner spoke volumes. No wonder a creature like Alastor didn't see anything attractive about Vox. And quite probably, as a poster for an evening masturbation session, he most likely hung a Rubens painting somewhere in his radio room, with a plot about the fratricide of the first children of Adam and Eve. However, Valentino won't condemn someone else's choice of fetishes. The information that the father of all murderers was involved in the drafting of this agreement to a greater extent than the saints made it even more interesting and forced Val to scroll through the agreement to the paragraphs with obligations. He had to understand what was expected of him. However, the very first point was strange. “Do not prevent the spread of diseases.” ― There are no diseases in hell, you know? — Valentino put the open contract on the table and pointed to the first paragraph. ― Even if I agree and sign everything, how will you order me to do it? ― They will appear, ― it seems that the smile of the radio demon spread even wider, and there was more interference in his voice. — Mr. Cain and I will take care of that. — But you must understand that in this case you will be in danger yourself, ― Sister Maria remarked, which caused a noticeable growl of displeasure from the radio demon. ― I'll be very honest with you. We need you as a new demon who will punish souls for sins. As an equal to the hellborn and occupying the same position. Representatives of Goetia have not wanted to dirty their hands about the souls of mortals for a long time, even though initially it was their direct responsibility. And Lucifer... ― ...Just a pathetic weak―willed nobody, not worthy of being called the lord of Hell, — the radio demon finished for Maria. ― Alastor, please, — the Saint sighed wearily. Obviously, this conversation did not give her any pleasure, but was only part of the work that she was assigned by higher powers. The Holy Sister has never been a truly violent person, and probably for this reason, to some extent, she allowed herself to be killed by a skinny gay man in that church. However, such behavior probably makes her truly holy. ― Valentino, I don't plan to rush you with an answer. Study the documents properly and think carefully. After all, if you agree, then the road to Heaven and the slightest possibility of redemption or a sin-free peaceful life will forever be closed to you. You will forever remain attached to Hell, the job you agree to under this contract. To those Egyptian punishments that will be attached to you until the end of time. Lice, dog flies, ulcers and boils, syphilis, AIDS, gonorrhea, as well as dozens and even hundreds of other diseases and parasites were listed in several rows on each page on both sides at the very end of the contract, signed by the Horseman Pestilence himself. As an addition to his duties and as a potential cause of his personal eternal torment. Technically, he was offered to become a loyal servant of one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, to torture scum, whose souls would automatically come to him after the end of their earthly life and become his rightful property. And for all this, give only his own chance at redemption and, most likely, health. It's understandable why the Saint looked so sad when she offered him such a contract, and why Alastor was so angry, whose authority would be jeopardized again if Val agreed to such terms. However, Moth is used to acting like a businessman in such matters. — I'll study these documents properly and give you an answer in a week, — Valentino replied coolly, taking the folder and packing his briefcase along with the revolver.

***

Valentino got into Hell like a worm. A fat slimy maggot that always wanted to eat. Any amount of food was not enough for him. He ate everything: plants, meat, cooked, raw, rotten, the flesh and blood of sinners, and even outright slop. He didn't care, as long as he kept eating and stuffing his belly. He devoured the guy with whom he lived in the same flat in the first place, and even one of the owners of the building, whom no one missed and were even glad of his disappearance. The only thing he had of his own was a copper claw for his little finger, which now wouldn't fit on his fat fingers. But he continued to wear it, hanging it around his neck as an ornament. The claw that he spat out immediately after arriving in hell, along with blood and a piece of Adam's apple cartilage. One evening, he was rummaging through the trash, which he actively stuffed into himself in a dirty and dark alley. Val got fat at that moment to the size of a behemoth and stopped looking in the mirror, but still could not stop. It was that evening that he saw a familiar, albeit slightly mutated face. Anthony. Happy, joyful, in beautiful clothes and high heels. In gold and diamonds, which were obviously given to him by his cavaliers. He left the local theater under the flash of paparazzi cameras, with bouquets of flowers in his hands to the enthusiastic cheers of fans. Val almost threw up. The greedy and eternally hungry body seemed to have finally filled up. He getting to the point of failure and was no longer able to eat. What Valentino saw made him feel sick. He felt like he was melting right the moment he saw this thing. Well-fed, clean, well-groomed, and enjoying life in Hell. Angel Dust has settled in perfectly. He became rich and famous, and no one, not a single hellish creature made his life difficult. Val crawled into the apartment with great difficulty, barely squeezing through the door. He'd eaten almost nothing on the way home, and he still couldn't remember if he'd eaten his neighbor or not. It was too disgusting for him to realize what he saw. He didn't want to continue this meaningless existence in the afterlife, where creatures are rewarded for being terrible, not punished. Even in life on earth, such a thing was impossible, and good connections could not sometimes save bandits from a stray bullet or the electric chair. But here... In Hell. The man remembered that he wanted to hang himself, but it was impossible to do it in such a way that it would break his neck. The ceilings in this apartment were too low and his pink caterpillar carcass was too heavy. But he tried to die by purposefully strangling himself, tying one end of the rope to a ceiling fan and the other to his own neck. He just didn't resist when the sliding knot tightened around his neck, cutting through the layers of fat on the way to his throat. He didn't remember losing consciousness. But he woke up after a nightmare in which he dreamed of his brother's funeral again. Valentino woke up in a dark and warm bubble full of viscous mucus. It was nice there. Nice, cozy and dark. There was nothing to be heard from outside, and only an occasional bluish flickering light was visible, as if from a TV set turned on on channel zero. He wanted to stay inside the cocoon for the rest of eternity, just to never face that unfair hole again, which someone mistakenly called Hell. A hole in which the more you sin, the better you live. He's body prickled. Feeling Valentino's bare chest, he then came across a familiar little finger claw. Surprisingly, at that time, it fit onto his little finger without any problems and looked beautiful. Delicate. Sharp and strong. So much like a weapon. A gift that was given to him during his lifetime, a couple of weeks before the moment when the same claw was plunged into his throat at the execution. During his lifetime, he did everything in his power to keep his children away from his affairs. And those stupid whores who considered it appropriate to bring maggots to the porn studio were beaten up and did everything so that the little ones would no longer appear either in the studio or in the houses of these stupid women. He did everything to ensure that the one who gave him this naive souvenir grew up in prosperity, and not in the garbage dump that he himself visited as a child. He tried to behave at least well with the children, even though he hadn't been a good person for a single day in his life. The delicate, sharp claw glowed in the bluish light from somewhere outside. Sharp and deadly. A weapon that could open the throat of this pampered spider. Or worse. — I can make it worse, — Val muttered, feeling the salty taste of the slime in which he was swimming on his tongue. — I can create hell for him myself. The sharp claw bit into the cocoon membrane and sliced it open. Val fell out of the warm and pleasant womb of the cocoon into the cold and dirty carpet in the very room in which he hanged himself. Pinkish saliva flowed from his mouth along with transparent mucus, his tongue became long and sharp, and his body was almost the same as it was before his death. Slim, athletic, but for some reason, with an extra pair of arms. Wet moss clung to his face and neck, growing on his neck like a collar. And her back and body were covered with something satiny to the touch, soft and scarlet. It was only after a while that he managed to realize that these were now his new wings. A part of the moth's body that he could use instead of a cloak, although he didn't really want to cover his nakedness. This new body was beautiful in its own way, even if it was strange. For once, it was nice to look in the mirror. — He won't remember me, — the man muttered, licking his lips with his long tongue and examining the pinkish saliva glowing in the semi―darkness. ― Someone like him doesn't remember faces. But I'll give him a hint. A little bit later.

***

After meeting with Saints, Valentino returned back to the company's tower, continuing to study the documents along the way. The case was clearly risky, if only because they were trying to pull it off behind the backs of the infernal nobility and, apparently, representatives of other circles of hell, which ordinary sinners were not allowed into because of some questionable rules that were not of the first freshness. In the past, the moth demon had already tried to learn more about the past of this place in order to have at least a vague idea of who to keep his distance from, and who could be shot if he didn't mind his own business. One of the sources of information was Zestial at the moment when Val managed to get to the position of Overlord, collecting his first hundred souls in submission. The old man gave him the information in an ornate and veiled manner, as if fearing that he was saying too much, but nevertheless it was already something. Apparently, the moment Zestial went to Hell, this place was completely different. Full of suffering and unlike a giant urban city in which sinners are almost stacked on top of each other. But then first Lucifer retired. Then the Seven Deadly Sins finally dispersed to their own Rings and stopped gathering even for rare meetings in the circle of Pride. And the bored new generation of the nobility did not want to get dirty about sinners at all and limited their contacts only to other hellborn, albeit of a much lower class status. They enjoyed the company of their peasants more than people, some of whom could match them at least in intelligence. Not that Val really judged them for this, but he just saw such behavior as not professional enough for their high status. After all, if you limit yourself too much in dealing with those whose intelligence or strength hurt your own ego, then soon these people will hurt not only your pride, simply because you won't know what to expect from them. You will lose contact with reality, but at the same time you will continue to think of yourself as omnipotent. This is probably what the hellborn Stolas felt, and rumors of his status being revoked even reached Pentagram City. It must have been very painful to fall from that position. That's probably the reason Val went to meet with Alastor, too. Unlike Vox, he was not possessed by a radio deer, rather, on the contrary, his presence irritated because of this incorrect coldness of the demon in red. He didn't have an ounce of the playfulness typical of real people. If the radio demon had been a woman, Val would have called such a madame frigid with just one glance and would not even have spent his strength on getting closer and obviously useless attempts to get attention. Vox's idea of “collaborating” with this ice-soul was initially doomed to failure, and this made this obsessive desire to achieve what he wanted even more ridiculous. “Vox behaved like a child back then,” — Val sighed to himself, taking a quick glance at the copper case for the nail on his little finger. — “That's probably why he made me angry more than inflame.” ― Evelyn! ― Valentino entered his territory in the Tower. —Yes, chief, — a fussy, short, curvy girl quickly jumped up to him. Because of her appearance, short blonde hair and a pair of protruding front teeth, she reminded Valentino of a guinea pig. — I'll be busy in the near future, — moth began dictating errands to her on the way to his office. ― I will be busy studying the papers for at least the next week. Find me a couple of strays kids that haven't been recruited by the Saints yet, I'll need the sneakiness of these rats in a couple of days. I'm crying as usual. You'll be shooting most of the time, Otto knows what to do with the picture, just make sure there's no mess on the set. If Angel starts messing around, you know what to do. — Will you need anything else? — The girl was quickly making notes on her tablet. — Bring a pot of coffee and plenty of tobacco to my office, — Valentino adjusted the brim of his hat and wiped the pink lenses of his heart―shaped glasses. ― White burleigh to make it more strong. ― Is there some kind of complicated contract brewing? — Evelyn asked, handing him, as always, a long―stemmed tobacco pipe that was already ready for priming. It has a pleasant cream color with a slight pink tinge, which only happens to the bones of sinners, and with a bowl carved in the shape of a caterpillar. His favorite pipe for working alone with himself. — You could call it that, ― Val said coldly, ― And also, don't let Vox get to me. Even if he asks for it very much. I'm out of the access area.

***

None of their team really liked Vox's idea of taking over paradise, except for Vox himself. However, the tv-demon wasn't paying attention to anyone at that moment, wasn't listening to anyone, and seemed completely entranced by his little horned captive. Vox got so carried away with the new toy that he could even forget that the toy still had the will. It was necessary to give the flat-faced prince his due, he was still good at hypnosis, but such an influence was only temporary and his victims sooner or later came to their senses. In the tactics of dialogue with the public, Val still preferred to listen to Velvet's ideas. They were much more practical and designed for long-term action, rather than short-term obedience, but still left the victims the opportunity to continue to think with their own heads and have a personal ego. Not a very big opportunity, but nevertheless. However, Vox's plan sucked not only because of his way of doing business. Valentino had already smoked more than one pipe. The mouth of the tobacco pipe, into which he had already filled tobacco several times, had already turned yellow from the strong smoke, and from the corner of this tiny open mouth even a thin drop of resin, thick and pinkish due to Valentino's own saliva, began to flow. A cloud of smoke covered the floor due to how much and often the demon lit up while studying the contract. He examined each word with a magnifying glass, not wanting to miss a single dubious wording and from time to time writing down questions and edits in the course of studying in a separate notebook. He never really liked to mess with documents, but in Hell it was a necessary skill, especially if you didn't want a wrong contract to play against you in the future, as was the case with Vox. The moth tiredly leaned back in his chair to take a short break and turned to the window. As always, the Paradise sphere glowed with a uniform white-gold color. She seemed even further away today than usual, and for some reason she began to remind him of one big blind eye that had never seen hell and would never see it. It's ironic, especially considering that the creatures of light definitely did not know and did not understand how evil, resentment or anger worked, since they were so blunted by coming to apologize for, in fact, genocide with gift baskets of useless sweets. It was even a bit insulting for Sister Maria, who, after her death, found herself in the company of some mentally retarded people. But the hope that not all the inhabitants of paradise were idiots still lingered somewhere in the depths of Valentino's small and thoroughly rotten soul. Remembering the events of the recent past, the moth demon sighed heavily. He didn't like Vox's plan for paradise from the very beginning. Just because he didn't really need to capture and destroy Paradise. Yes, he would have liked to see his brother, of course, but this was clearly not a good enough reason to start a war. The man joined the plan solely for piss in Vox's cornflakes at the right time. However, at the very last moment, because of Vincent's insanity, everything started to go wrong by itself. This was exactly the point of no return for Val. Such lack of professionalism in business was unacceptable even in the cartels, especially among the heads, who were sometimes so influential that they had access to the heads of state. This was unacceptable in the media space, according to Velvet, who watched their company's image as the most precious treasure. Such obsessives don't live long. It was even interesting in its own way how Vox had lasted so many years without going insane, and had even been able to rise to the position of the strongest Overlord of hell, even if only for a short time. It's a pity he'll never know the answers. Putting down his pipe, Valentino stretched himself, his vertebrae crunching. After his last fight with Alastor's prisoners and Angel's girlfriends, his back ached wildly, and his damaged wing was healing too slowly to start flying again. According to the terms of the contract, theoretically, he was supposed to undergo some physical changes, but whether this transformation would have any positive properties for him or only negative ones was a trick question. While studying the contract, Val thought about his brother more and more often. That he has the opportunity to literally force those bastards into hell who, in his personal opinion, would be unworthy of even a chance at redemption. All whores, rapists, sodomites and seducers will be at his complete disposal from the very moment they go to hell, and only he will decide whether to put them in the Hotel or not. On the one hand, this case implied from him a certain degree of responsibility to Heaven and even too close interaction with angels, who already seemed idiots and a negative IQ to all hell, but on the other hand, it gave him the opportunity to keep the same Angel. He could have put on the shortest leash all those who could, at least in theory, hurt a righteous man who had already suffered too much during his lifetime, and not only him. He could have pulverized them or tortured them at will. Probably, given the plans for a coup in hell, he may even get a piece of the circle of lust or its new equivalent. It sounded even too good, and therefore there was a catch in this sentence. The phone vibrated slightly, distracting Overlord from his heavy thoughts. Val got a message from Velvet. Short, rude, but still pretty sweet for someone who died at the age of sixteen. “Vox is freaking out again and crying that you handle all the fat contracts. Don't look at everything. They're throwing us a bunch of smelly shit. Come out for coffee, I'm bored=(” Velvet always sensed a catch and danger. After her death, she became even too cautious and tried not to come to the fore, fearing a repeat of what happened to her during her lifetime. She was unlucky enough to go to Hell just before the beginning of the exterminations, and it can be said that she did not find a relatively quiet life under Lilith's “inspiring” songs. She was a baby compared to many Rulers, but she gained strength and power like a hungry predator. Living as if tomorrow would never come. Val was lucky in a way to take her under his wing in time before she became dangerous to the whole Hellish society, but it was also his mistake. As soon as the girl exhaled even a little, she began to hide in the shadows of her elders like a mouse, although it was difficult to even assume from her garish appearance that she was afraid of attention. After sending a short reply message, Val pulled a roll-up from his cigarette case and took another drag, exhaling pinkish smoke into the air. He still had time to respond to the Saints, but not as much as he would have liked. And the more he thought about it, the more he doubted the answer. He wondered if he had calculated everything, if he had taken everything into account, if he had foreseen everything, if heaven and the Saints themselves could deceive him? Unfortunately, he couldn't find any answers. On the one hand, there were no people in this world or the next whom he trusted more than Sister Mary and Father Francis, but on the other hand, could the Saints themselves be deceived? Could someone from above use their pure souls and sincere intentions to destroy him and all Hell? The contract implied cooperation with the Heavens, not simple submission to them. He will be given the will to assign trials to those who want to improve and demonstrate a desire to do so. He was given a leash, but he would not be able to restrain someone else's desire to improve, and even such a creature as Angel Dust would have to let go if he wanted to become a better person and prove this desire by deed. But he will have the right to give him a trial. Any degree of cruelty, in order to test his resolve. This meant that he still had the opportunity to manipulate, lie, frame, and exhaust siners in every possible way for as long as his new powers, magic, and eloquence could allow him. And all in order to keep him in hell. For a drug addict like Angel, it's both simple and difficult at the same time. At the end, one dossier was attached to the contract. Small, but extremely revealing for his future position. A hotel guest who wants redemption, but went to hell for seducing children. To test the will to correct this sinner, Sister Mary turned to him, offering this piece of man as a “test assignment.” Well, he obviously won't be able to find an approach to such trash personally, and he'll need a little help with that. The knock on the door was short and quiet. He recognized Evelyn immediately, but judging by the sounds, she did not come alone. ― Come in,― Val ordered curtly, putting the contract in the top drawer of his desk and locking it. At the moment, he only needs the sinner's file. In the doorway, a personal assistant stood in the company of a child who looked no more than ten years old, and maybe even less at the time of his actual death. Valentino remembered those eyes very well. Bright blue, cold and full of malice. It was unlikely that such a look could belong to a child who had at least a small hint of childhood. From the looks of it, it was hard to tell if it was a boy or a girl in front of him. Her chest is flat and not yet formed, her legs and hips are skinny, her face is round like all children's, and her hair is buscut, like a juvenile delinquent. ― Chief, unfortunately, there are almost no children left, — Evelyn began in a trembling voice. ― In the cannibal quarter, their offspring are not allowed anywhere outside the district, and the children from the slums are almost all in the Hotel now. So... — One is more than enough,― Valentino smiled, feeling the poisonous saliva mixed with tobacco roll down from the corner of his mouth. The child did not react to the smoke and did not succumb to the hypnotic scent, continuing to look directly at him, almost without blinking. — Especially one so cruel and vicious. Tell me, botón brillante, are you good at pretending?

***

Father Francis told that he was against it. For as long as this man was willing to forgive almost anyone, but even he called the test subject “too unreliable.” And he was categorically against letting a child near Sinner. The little one didn't even show much excitement, stayed close to Valentino and Father Francis and Maria, ate ice cream with great pleasure at the Husk counter and even managed to exchange a couple of caustic comments with the radio deer. ― Young man, are you sure what you're going to do? — asked the compassionate Maria, gently touching the shoulder of the child, who was still happily licking the remains of ice cream from the spoon. — I'm sure, — the child said shortly and colorlessly, jumping down from his chair and straightening the stretched collar of his T―shirt, which was always sliding off one of his thin shoulders. ― Well, can I at least give you some new clothes? — Francis suggested. ― We managed to request a small charity from Heaven. Everything is new and clean, so... — I don't care about clothes, — the child sighed wearily. ― Such people rarely cling to well-dressed children, because the more decent the clothes, the more likely that someone will be looking for them. — I told you shrimp a smart kid, ― Valentino smiled. ― He knows what to push, just like all of us. ― there was no response. The child silently and forcefully stretched the already huge collar of the T-shirt even more. The fabric and seams cracked under his skinny fingers, and the overall appearance became even more shabby. The moth's smile widened. ― A real professional, unlike some people. Do you remember the terms? — Don't get out of character as long as he behaves like a human being, — the little one mumbled, rolling his eyes and deliberately hitting his knee on the corner of the bar so that the ice cream bowl almost fell to the floor. Almost immediately, a large bruise began to spread on the thin skin of the child, and the knee that was scraped against the tree bled slightly. It seemed to annoy the child that he was being treated as a juvenile idiot, as if he had not lived for decades in the underworld along with all the burps of the human race. ― Point your finger at him and I'll go already. Time is money. Valentino had already pointed out the target to him personally, sending him on a mission under the displeased gaze of the Radio Demon. Deer was about to start protesting that Val had entrusted his future work to someone else, but Motyl himself abruptly cut him off, reminding him that the contract did not limit his methods to anything. Neither morality, nor power, nor magic, nor even other sinners that he can use at his discretion. And the child is also a sinner, whether others like it or not. The little one behaved naturally. That's how children usually behave. He was awkward, clumsy, timid, and even timid. He was always looking at the pedophile in correction with hunted big blue eyes, as if he was about to cry. A charming sight that will prompt any adequate person to sympathize and help the weak. But in hell, almost no one has ever had anything to do with adequate people. Probably the only exception Valentino knew was Pentius, and Motyl wasn't completely sure about him because he hadn't had enough time to talk personally and draw any conclusions. However, if this coward didn't cause any problems in Paradise, then Val was ready to turn a blind eye to his slippery nature. The pervert didn't last long. The fat round face turned pinkish due to excitement. He kept licking his lips and turning around. The saints understood perfectly well what this meant, and Val had to remind them not to interfere. They can only watch. Having received the position of head of Voxtek, Val also received part of the powers of the tv-demon's, so as soon as the sinner disappeared with the child into one of the dark corners, the demon transferred the image of that “deserted” place to the TV screen in the hotel. It is expected that without prying eyes, this brat nevertheless began to harass the child, clearly showing Charlie that not everyone can be redeemed. But she didn't have time to shed tears for the work she had done in vain. As soon as the sinner touched the crotch of a small demon with the face of a helpless child, his belly was cut across by a sharp blade hidden in the forearm of the mantis demon. The jaws of the little button gaped open, releasing the hidden mandibles of a predatory insect. Biting off the head of a pathetic molester wasn't a big deal. The little shrimp coped one hundred percent, horrifying the former angel and the bartender. And someone like Alastor is a delight. Only the Saints remained relatively calm, although they were clearly disappointed by what had happened. ― Wherever this maggot returned to his afterlife in hell, if I were you, I would send him to my brothel instead of allocating a room again, — Valentino remarked, enjoying a cigarette in a long bone holder. The test work for the trial was more than successful. The naive princess ran to throw up in the nearest toilet while the adults were left discussing serious matters, and for once she did not bother anyone. ― And if there are no children left? — Alastor asked with a smile. It was a reasonable question, but Valentino was ready for it. ― New ones arrive almost every day. Unbaptized, corrupted, full of malice, thieves, pickpockets, ― Valentino leaned back on the upholstered chair in front of the TV. A cloud of pink smoke from a cigarette took the shape of two hands and began to dominate the bar, pouring a “sex on the beach” cocktail into a beautiful glass. Hask did not dare to interfere, realizing that he had nothing to oppose the two Overlords at all. ― There will always be children. And people like this baby won't even want to leave. Paradise for them is nothing more than a bunch of hypocritical creatures. ― What makes such a conclusion? — Father Francis sounded almost offended. — Because I really don't want to, — the child's calm voice attracted attention. Covered in blood and with an impartial and empty look. ― And Paradise is really a bunch of hypocritical creatures. If that wasn't the case, they wouldn't have sent me to hell for biting off a dick on a rich pervert's private island and not wanting to repent for this act. It became too quiet in the hall. Even the usually noisy and chatty radio—deer left this statement without comment, continuing to just stare at the bloody footprints on the floor as if he were looking at some kind of work of art. Tilting his head first to one side, then to the other, Alastor was clearly admiring the thick blood, appreciating the glare on the surface of the uneven puddles. It seems this guy was much more interested in this kind of thing than any bodily pleasures. Valentino even had time to think about what role this psycho had managed to occupy in the new hierarchy. After all, surely being the confidant of the first murderer and in fact his right-hand man for himself in the coming changes of power, the Radio demon has already managed to stake out a fairly warm place. — It's not for us to judge you for your earthly sins, — Sister Mary sighed, getting up from the sofa where she was sitting with Francis. ― But I can say with certainty that the sin you mentioned is not the reason for going to Hell. The Lord may instruct you to turn the other cheek, but he never said that you should allow yourself to be beaten a second time. It was in the style of a Saint. No matter how kind-hearted Maria was, the tenderness and kindness in her heart was always balanced by the iron and strong-willed character of a real soldier. It's even strange that someone like her has never been seen during the exterminations. Valentino assumed that Adam had not accepted her into the ranks of exorcists simply because she was too old to look at. And the first man clearly didn't know anything about mature women. — There will be an opportunity for you to atone for your sins, if that's what you want, — Maria said and turned to Valentino. ― Hell is meaningless in itself if there is no punishment for sin. Eternal life has no meaning for those who do not and have never appreciated life. The afterlife needs to be balanced, and Hell needs to regain its former heat at a time when Lucifer and Satan themselves are no longer able to inspire terror from the souls of mortals. Valentino. Alastor... Are you ready to become the punishing hand of the Lord?