Tuesday, 10th November 1992

"I need to see Tenevorl, now!"

The demon in the ill-fitting suit looked upon Strickeon with a level of disdain not worthy of someone of his lowly level. If their world was akin to that of the human military, Strickeon knew he would outrank him, but as everyone knew, be they demon or human, receptionists always seemed to think they held some greater position of power.

"And why do you want to see Lord Tenervorl?" the receptionist replied, emphasising the word, Lord.

"That is of no concern to you, but believe me, if you do not fetch Lord Tenevorl, you will surely regret it.

For a few seconds, they eye-balled each other and then the receptionist gestured to one of the waiting paiges. The creature who seemed to have more feline than humanoid traits, pounced forward and listened carefully as the receptionist whispered into its ear. The creature turned and gave Strickeon a sly look, then immediately left the lobby area on all fours.

"Take a seat."

Strickeon looked to where the receptionist was pointing and found an empty old wooden bench. Not able to sit for the nervous energy coursing around his body, he paced the floor, trying to remember the preceding events in detail, so not to forget any important details. Tenervorl was known for being a ferocious demon with a poor attention span and an even poorer set of social skills. During his time spent with Ashmadalak, Strickeon had learned of his hatred and fierce rivalry with Tenervorl, but had never really known the reasons behind it. What Strickeon did know for sure, was that as far as right hand men were concerned, Tenevorl was that and more to the Seven... or Six as he was about to announce.

Loud footsteps echoed off the stone floor coming closer to where Strickeon waited. Tenervorl appeared from a side corridor, looking every inch the gym bunny, he worked out to be. With a neck and arms the same width as his thighs, he resembled a thick yet lean on fat, raw steak.

"Thank you, Sire for coming at short notice."

Tenevorl looked down his nose at the significantly shorter demon before him. "Whatever this is, it had better be important."

"Of course, Sire, but might we take this conversation to a more...discreet location?" Strickeon glanced over at the receptionist who was clearly pretending not to listen.

Tenevorl sighed, "If we must."

Strickeon followed Tenevorl into a small side room, barely furnished and housing a pile of boxes.

"So?"

"Sire, it is with great sadness that I inform you that Lucifer, our beloved dark Prince has been killed."

Tenevorl waited a second and then exploded into a giant belly laugh. Strickeon, shocked by the reaction, watched on as the seven foot mountain of tattooed muscle began clutching at his stomach.

"Come on, which one of them put you up to this?" He wheezed. "Leviathan, it must be her. She likes nothing better than to taunt me or send me on wild goose chases just for her own pleasure."

Strickeon shook his head. "Sire, I do not jest. I would not jest, over something so terrible."

The unnatural smile on Tenervorl's face dropped instantly and he lurched forward, grabbing Strickeon by the collar of his cloak. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Sire, I...I...bring word of the death of Lucifer. I watched with my own eyes as the Prince and his hunting party were obliterated into dust."

Shock registered on Tenevorl's face for a split second before the rage returned. "You watched! Did you do this?"

Tenevorl's grip was now so tight around Strickeon's neck, he struggled to speak. "Aaa...Asmda...Ashmadak killed him."

Tenevorl released Strickeon who fell into a gasping heap on the floor.

"Did you did just say Ashmadalak?"

Strickeon nodded as a tear fell from his eye.

"You had better tell me everything then," Tenevorl said, with a smile.

The great doors opened inwards with a creak. Strickeon had been to the court before, but had never made it this far and certainly not into the actual room itself. Given the choice, he wouldn't be standing there right now. He rubbed at his bruised neck.

"Keep up," Tenevorl instructed as he stalked into the room like he owned the damn place.

Five of the remaining six were already seated around the semi-circular table, appearing to be in the middle of a heated argument.

"It's mine and you can't have it." Mammon clutched the item to his portly chest, the light glinting off the multitude of rings he wore on every finger.

"I want it. Give it to me." Leviathan whined. Today she was wearing her hair in pigtails and looked every inch the petulant teenager that she wished to be.

Strickeon had only been in the presence of both the demons of greed and envy a few times before, but on every occasion their interaction always seemed to end up in petty squabbling.

A large burp erupted from the other end of the table. "Well I already have ten of them," slurped Beelzebub, who was drinking from a goblet, while simultaneously chewing on a large piece of meat." Avaricious in most things, over exaggeration was no exception.

Leviathan reached for the object of contention, trying to snatch it from Mammon's warty hand. Her long pink-polished nails dug into his skin making him yelp out loud.

With a bang, Satan, who was seated at the very centre of the table with Mammon to his left, grabbed the object from both of them and pummelled it into the surface of the table with his fist. "Now no one can have it," he roared. Leviathan's mouth formed into a self-satisfied smirk, her citrine eyes twinkling at Mammon, as his bottom lip quivered.

The flattened object, a small grey box with the word, PacMan emblazoned across it, gave a dying beep and the cracked, glass screen went dark.

Strickeon only dared glance at the demon of wrath for a split second; it was never good to get the attention of a demon whose temper operated on a hair trigger. Instead, Strickeon chose to look around the cavernous room, with its arched ceiling, polished stone walls and a myriad of doors and steps leading off to places unknown. The inside of the court almost looked like an Escher-mathematically impossible painting.

Holding up the impressively high ceiling were large pillars, all made of the same blood-red marble, the seams running through it of the deepest hue they almost looked like a network of veins and capilliaries. The room almost had an organic, womb-like feel to it.

Strickeon felt a prickle on the back of his neck and turned to see another demon, who he'd never met before, staring at him as if he was a piece of meat placed before a ravenous carnivore. Seated at the far end of the table, sporting a wild mane of ebony hair, the demon wore a black leather suit, far too tight to be comfortable and pointed snake skin boots. The jacket was buttoned to the navel and then open to reveal a bare, slick chest. Looking a little too like the lead singer of a heavy metal band, he continued to stare, the side of his mouth glistening a little. Strickeon didn't know whether to feel aroused or terrified, but figured it was okay to be both. Asmodeus, the demon of lust was rarely seen in public and unaccompanied by his harem, choosing to spend his time in more private pursuits. Strickeon's breath caught in this throat as the demon slowly licked his top lip.

"About bloody time," shouted Satan, giving Strickeon the distraction he needed to pull his eyes from Asmodeus.

Slowly, a day-bed was wheeled into the room by four barely dressed wretches. Laying upon the bed, Belthegor gave a lethargic wave.

"Do you have to be late for everything?" Satan demanded.

Belthegor smiled, clearly enjoying the annoyance he was creating.

With the support of two wretches, Belthegor moved his bulk from the bed to his throne. With a flick of his fingers he dismissed the help, who happily fled the room. The doors closed heavily behind them.

All of a sudden, Strickeon found six pairs of eyes, of a multitude of shades all fixed upon him.

"My lieges, this demon brings terrible news to share with you today." Tenevorl bowed his head.

Satan raised his hand. "Wait, we cannot begin council without Lucifer. Where is that peacock?"

Tenervorl stepped aside quickly away, leaving Strickeon alone and with the realisation that the six demons before him didn't have a clue they had lost one of their own. Tenevorl had kindly left him to do the talking.

Strickeon cleared his throat. "My Lord, it is of Lucifer that I bring news."

"Well, speak demon. Where is our brother and why such a hurry."

Strickeon opened his mouth, but the sound suddenly piercing the quietness of the room wasn't his own.

A second scream streaked around them, bouncing of the marble, making each one the six cover their ears. Screams were the sound track to life below, but this scream was something altogether different.

The doors opened again and in streaked a mass of billowy white fabric, mussed up red hair and ... another scream.

Satan stood up from his throne and towered over the court.

"What is this? How dare you enter and interrupt this court. You will pay ..."

The noisy intruder fell to the floor amid the sounds of sobbing and sniffing, the screaming thankfully subsided.

Strickeon, quite glad of the interruption and that all eyes were no longer on him, watched with fascination as the creature pulled the hair from her face and faced Satan. Suddenly Strickeon was filled with the urge to spill his guts over the floor. The distraught intruder was none over than Lilith.

"Lilith, must you always interrupt court with your amateur dramatics?"

"He is ...," she sobbed in reply, "gone."

"My dear, while I understand your dismay every time he wanders, this really is no business of the court and I am certainly no marriage guidance counsellor."

The weak, crumpled demon's head shot up, "I haven't come here because he has a roving eye. I have come here, because he is dead. Someone has killed him, I can feel it, our connection has gone." She let out a wail even a banshee would envy and fell to the floor again.

The Six turned back to Strickeon. From the corner of his eye, Strickeon could see Tenervorl slowly stepping further backwards, away from the blast zone.

"Speak," Satan growled, his black eyes narrowing.

"I am afraid it is true, my Lord. The dark prince discovered that a Fragili had been found. We went to recover it, but I am sorry to say, he was annihilated along with the rest of the team."

"How?" Leviathan asked, her voice heavy in emotion. "How could this have happened and why didn't we sense his suffering."

Lilith let out another sob.

"It was instantaneous, my Lady, I believe he did not suffer. The Fragili's energy was used against him."

Satan thumped the table hard. "Damn them, damn those Custos! I should have taken them out when I had a chance."

"The Custos were there my Lord, but it was not them that killed Lucifer."

"Who then?" Satan fired back.

He shuffled his feet a little before taking an unnecessary deep breath. "Ashmadalak."

Lilith began screaming again as fury erupted around the table. Each one of the demons voicing their anger.

Asmodeus was the first to calm down and raised his hand, shouting, "Enough." Slowly, an uncomfortable quiet was restored. "Tell me, Strickeon, why would Ashmadalak do such a thing? He is one of us, low-level, but still one of us. What on earth would he have to gain by doing such a treacherous deed?"

Strickeon winced as he internally composed his answer. "My Lord, it turns out that the Fragili is the daughter of a Fragili he once had congress with."

The sound of a sharp intake of breath came from his left.

"Nadine," Lilith seethed, "that no-good, good for nothing whore. Just you wait till I get my..."

"Silence," Satan ordered, the echo of his instruction reverberating around the giant court. "While I understand your reaction, Lilith, even I am finding your jealousy of that woman a little tasteless right now considering we are discussing the death of your husband

"Tenevorl, is this true, has my brother been killed?"

Tenevorl came forward and stood next to Strickeon.

"It is my Lord, I went to the location and found nothing but flame and ash."

Strickeon watched as Lucifer's wife struggled to contain her fury. He, like everyone else had heard rumours of her infatuation with Ashmadalak, after all everyone knew she and Lucifer had what one would consider an open marriage. But he hadn't realised the depth of her infatuation. Not only had she lost her husband but it was by the hand of the demon who had rejected her. And the daughter of the woman for whom Ashmadalak had scorned her for, had provided him the means to do so.

Lilith growled back a Satan, but then began to sob again.

"Lilith, go now. Seek solace in the knowledge we will avenge your husband."

"Satan, you must make him pay for what he has done to me...to Lucifer. Make him pay or I will." With a jump she returned to her feet and marched towards the door, her voice murmuring threats and curses.

"I'd be happy to check up on her later," suggested Asmodeus.

"You will do no such thing, do you hear me, brother. The last thing that poor creature needs is your lecherous advances."

Asmodeus tried for an expression of innocence. It didn't work.

The demon of wrath left his throne and walked around the table. Strickeon couldn't just see him approach, he could actually feel his nearing presence; the candle light darkening, the air around him becoming more frigid.

"I. Want. Him. Found," Satan said, his words staccato.

"Should I alert the guard?" Tenervorl asked.

"No!" Satan boomed, then in a quieter, more menacing tone continued, "No, he will be expecting that. You found him the last time, and you will do so again. Use Strickeon here to help, but tell no one else." Tenervorl nodded and turned to leave.

"But," Satan interrupted, "once you find him, send word immediately." He looked back to the table to his, for want of a better word, family and then back to Tenevorl. "You are not to lay a finger on him, do you hear? That pleasure will be entirely ours. I am personally going to rip the soul of that Fragili asunder in front of his very eyes and then spend the next millennia, using her energy to torture that, ...that traitor," he spat. "No other being since creation will ever suffer as much as he is going to."

Strickeon's body began to tremble. Ashmadalak was going to be made to pay in the worst of ways for his crimes and Strickeon was going to be there to watch. He panted with excitement.