After Elias passed out on the soothing cold rain, he couldn't see a thing. For the third time in a row, his body was abandoned and he was left with an uncertain fate. A hooded figure approached his trashed body in the morning. Naked, bloodied, mutilated, and covered in mud. The figure kneeled near Elias, checking his vitals with their fingers, noticing that he was barely breathing. They held Elias's legs and lifted them, carrying him out of the graveyard.
It was now seven PM. On the southern part of town, small neighbourhoods overshadowed by the giant casinos, a young little girl ran around the neighbourhood. This girl had quite the mysterious origin. Her parents abandoned her with her grandmother and left Vegas. Her grandmother then died of an unknown cause, leaving the little girl all by herself in the world. Neighbours say that she was named Bethanny. Bethanny Cooper. She's about twelve, and studies at the Amplus Durango charter school. She has little to no friends, and most teachers barely know her name, since she skips school a lot. No one knows exactly what she does alone at home. What people do know is that when she skips school, she often wanders around the desert with her bike, and often comes home with local wildlife such as small lizards and bugs.
The entire neighbourhood had some level of dislike towards her; some because of her uneasiness and weird looks, while others disliked her for no apparent reason, just the fact she felt out of place. She had just one outfit, and her appearance was rather distinctive; a pink top with a white smiling cat on it, black yoga pants, and some raggedy shoes. Today was not out of the ordinary. Bethanny was running through her neighbourhood, enthusiastically counting pennies and quarters on her hand, smiling as she realized the coins were enough for what she desired.
As she entered an ice cream shop, she happily hopped towards the counter, placing her coins on it. She looked up to the receptionist, smiling.
"I-I…I'd like a peanut butter ice cream, please. J-Just one scoop!"
Even though that was all she could afford, the happiness in her face was totally palpable. The receptionist, on the other hand, looked at Bethanny with clear disgust. Her poor hygiene surely struck the wrong nerve with that man. He scooped out the ice cream she asked, carefully putting it on a cone, serving it to her and taking the coins left on the counter.
"You got it already. Now scram."
Her happiness was not shaken in the slightest, since she was well familiarized with that sort of hostility. Holding the cone, she excitedly hopped out of the ice cream shop. As she slowly took savory licks of the ice cream, two hellspawn teens ran through the pavement in the same direction she was. She was so distracted that her eyes could barely keep up with the skateboard that was being ridden by one of them.
"Hey, watch out, man!"
The hellspawn collided against Bethanny, driving her and himself to the ground. Whereas he stood up quickly, dusting himself and scoffing at the sight of the girl, Bethanny was still lying down, grunting in pain and sadness over what just went down. Her left elbow, completely cut from the pavement, was gushing a considerable amount of blood.
"N-No…M-My ice cream…"
She murmured as she tried to stand up. The young hellspawn held his skateboard, following his companion.
"What's the matter, goldilocks? Are you blind or retarded, huh? Get the fuck out of my face."
The duo continued their path, leaving Bethanny by herself. She eventually stood up, looking at the ice cream, already melting from the pavement's heat, all while holding her bleeding elbow. As her eyes teared up, she couldn't help but ask a single question inside her mind: What was she even doing alive?
As she walked home, she decided to stop at a nearby park bench. She sat there, sobbing over her disgrace, entirely alone. As people passed by her—many smiling, walking their pets or just enjoying each other's company—they didn't even bother to look at Bethanny. She was totally invisible, and that truth shook her up inside the more she thought about it.
As she considered going home, a man sat beside her. A tall, bulky man with trimmed hair. His face was barely visible, being totally concealed by white wraps. He wore a grey hoodie with the hood covering his head, grey worn-out construction pants with black kneepads, and brown short boots. His hands were full of calluses, covered by the same white bands as his face, and they clearly had some amount of dry blood on them.
As he sat beside Bethanny, totally quiet for about a minute, he eventually started talking, while not even making eye contact.
"Rough day?"
His voice was deep, sharp, and imposing, but weirdly comforting for the girl. She looked at him, her face beet red from all the crying and weeping.
"E-Every day is a rough day."
She tried smiling it out, but she clearly meant that from the heart.
He leaned back against the bench.
"You can say that. I had a rough day too. How about I tell you about my day and you tell me about yours?"
Bethanny couldn't understand the reason as to why a stranger would even be talking to her, let alone trying to know more about her life.
"I…Woke up today. I didn't eat much…I guess I had some bread and turkey left, so I made a sandwich. I watched some TV, then I found some coins lying around and bought ice cream. But…Someone bumped into me and I dropped it."
The stranger seemed oddly interested.
"And where were your parents?"
Bethanny hesitated.
"I never met them. I used to live with my grandmother, but she passed last year. My aunt lives in Oklahoma and sends me some money every now and then."
He looked at the calluses on his hand. Maybe he associated it with money.
"Is it enough?"
He asked.
"…Barely."
Bethanny pressed down on her shirt, trying to hide her shame.
"But about your day, mister?"
She asked, trying to change subjects.
"My day was rough too. I got my fingers stuck in a jackhammer."
Bethanny's eyes seemed to pop out.
"O-Oh, my god…"
He continued.
"I also forgot my lunch. Well, at least I got paid."
He then drew a wad of hundred-dollar bills, to which Bethanny responded with an amazed look.
"T-That's…That's a lot of money! How did you get that?!"
He replied, highlighting some bills.
"I'm a construction worker. I also do some things on the side."
Bethanny's sad face seemed to brighten up a bit.
"I wish I had that money too."
The man then smiled, giving all the money to Bethanny.
"W-What?!"
She exclaimed, not even knowing how to hold so many bills.
"Bethanny Cooper. Daughter of a crack-addicted prostitute and a broke nightclub bouncer."
Bethanny looked in disbelief.
"How…Do you…?"
He stood up.
"I did my research. I always do. I'm offering you an opportunity…A haggle, if you will."
She looked at him, scared.
"What…What is it?"
He reached his hand towards her, showing the symbol of a bull, engraved with some sort of extremely hot flame.
"I have some burdens to carry too."
A few hours later, the man walked in an empty street, holding the unconscious Bethanny in his arms. As he walked towards a car, he laid her down in the trunk, covering her with makeshift sheets. The sheets were carefully handcrafted from news articles and pictures of a series of disappearances countrywide. He then proceeded to walk in hasty steps towards an alley, with a clear target in mind: the two hellspawns that frustrated Bethanny earlier.
As he stepped into the alley, his presence echoed, announced by the sound of the puddles of rain left from yesterday being stepped on by his heavy-duty boots. The two teenagers were fully distracted, smoking out of a pipe, laughing at each other.
"Hello."
The man announced coldly. They turned to him with a daring smirk.
"The fuck is that on your face?"
As they laughed, the man continued going forward until they eventually met. The man simply raised his hands to one of the teens, staring profusely.
"What are you high on, weirdo? Probably some Fentanyl!"
As they tried to mock him, his voice became resolute. A quick command came out of his mouth.
"Hail, Baal."
Within a fraction of a second, a distorted and plasma-like energy flowed near the body of the teen. The man, with his hand reaching out, suddenly closed his fist. Immediately, the teen growled in pain, followed by his complete implosion. As his viscera made the already red hellspawn ever more red, the other screamed in shock.
"W-W-W-W-WH—"
His questioning was then cut short by the same fate as his partner's. Their bodies were crushed by the subtle appearance of an unbearable weight, heavy enough to deconstruct their bodies at mere contact.
Their shock was beyond the grotesque deaths. As hellspawns, they clearly knew what that energy was. That energy was pure, unaltered Penance, a hellish energy form present in demons, hellspawns, and other otherworldly beings. Since the man could easily control his Penance, there was no doubt that he was a Burden, a feared sin collector with a demon fused with his soul.
As he trampled over the viscera of the executed foes, he went back to his car, starting the engine and turning the radio on. As he drove, the news on the radio became more and more appealing to him, symbolized by his constant volume increase.
"Last night, an uncommon caprine-headed being was spotted wandering in the streets near the MGM Casino. Witnesses say that he was trying to bite pedestrians, both humans and hellspawns, and spent hours spouting unintelligible monologues in a forbidden tongue. Authorities say that the entity in question is a Burden, sin-collecting outlaws with corrupted demons inside their bodies. An investigation is being conducted by Detective Jerman Kenner, a specialist at demon-related crimes and scandals. And now, for our breaking news…"
The car made a subtle turn. As the driver looked at the rearview mirror, he could see a bloodied handful of pennies, along with a bloodied uniform of an ice cream parlor. He kicked the items away from his seat.
"A mass kidnapper nicknamed Ouroboros is running rampant in Las Vegas. Ouroboros was first sighted in Michigan a few years ago, where he made his first known victim. The most enigmatic part about him is that, until now, Ouroboros has no confirmed kill. Ouroboros is a masked man in his thirties who conceals his face and hands with white bandages. He usually approaches young boys and girls and coerces them into taking the life of other people, even their own parents. The reason as to why he does this is currently unknown, with some speculating that he is trying to collect the virtue out of the children's souls. He is a confirmed Burden and has demonstrated high levels of Penance. Because of this, the local authorities warn all citizens to take precautions with their children."
The man smiled.
In parallel, Elias finally rose from his trauma-induced sleep of hysteria and pain. He was still nude, dirty, and bloodied, inside a random apartment. His first reflex was to rise up screaming to the top of his lungs,
"WHERE AM I?!"
He exclaimed as he tried to stand up. His head felt weirdly heavy, and naturally, he fell back. As he recovered from the fall, he looked at the window, seeing the city.
"I'm in the south side? My family lives on the north side. How did I get here?"
He got up fully, bracing himself against the window.
"How am I…Alive?"
He ran his fingers over the bullet wound, feeling an unconscious shock as he did so, as if he was reliving a split second of his suicide. Then, he rushed to the mirror, only to be met with yet another reason for surprise and terror. The right side of his face was entirely transformed into a caprine skull, with two errant horns, spiraled eyes, and half of a jaw. As his panic slowly settled down, he tried to touch the skull, not believing it was even real. As he felt it, his face turned from hesitation to raw shock and disgust.
"What…What is this…?!"
The memories from Limbo and the Charon finally started making some sense.
"I…I sold my soul…?!"
Elias wandered around the bedroom, looking for his phone. Instead, he found a laptop, which he immediately used to search for anything related. Things such as "Sold my soul to the devil what to do now" and "Devil inside head how fix" were repeated extensively. Until he finally understood what question should be asked:
"Can a demon live with a human?"
After some quick search, he found a video of Detective Jerman Kenner, a private investigator specialized in demon-related cases and a master's degree in demonology. He played the video, still shaking, trying to cocoon himself with his sheets.
"Hello, Mister Kenner."
The video started as the host introduced the guest. Kenner was a rather tall man with broad shoulders and a rough physique, akin to that of someone who has an active life but some degrading habits. He was a white man with blonde hair, a sloppy beard, and dead hazelnut eyes. He wore a modernized grey trench coat with a high-couture t-shirt, along with matching pants and regular brogue shoes. He was often seen wearing a black cap.
"Just Jerman is fine."
Jerman replied with a bitter and firm tone, as he was visibly throwing out the water in a mug given to him and pouring liquor inside, using a metal cross-shaped canteen.
"O-Ok. So, what can you tell us about demons?"
Jerman raised his eyebrow.
"That everything you saw in comics and movies is bullshit."
The host fixed his posture in his chair, trying to think of a comeback.
"Well…That's a pretty dense take. Could you explain to the people at home what demons are?"
Jerman sighed, taking a sip of his liquor. His face of sheer exhaustion made it clear that he had done the exact same speech at least a hundred times.
"To understand what a demon is, you first must understand what God is. God is the creator of all, an all-powerful being who created the universe and every single atom that composes it. From humans to demons and hellspawns, God made us all."
The interviewer thought for a second and inquired.
"But if God is all-powerful, how can he be all-benevolent?"
Jerman leaned back in the chair.
"I never said he was. He's as flawed as everyone else. People have the misconception that being perfect means not having flaws. That is quantumly and spiritually impossible since the concept of a flaw is entirely subjective, and God does not work with subjectivities. Being perfect is about having enough qualities to circumvent these flaws."
The interviewer copied Jerman's previous gesture, raising an eyebrow himself.
"And does he?"
Jerman scoffed.
"Not really. God is known for being angry and resentful. Quite egocentric, too. However, he could just end it all at any second. He doesn't do it because he must value something on this planet, maybe even this galaxy. That's what I'm trying to find out."
The interviewer checked a notepad.
"Okay, since you've covered the concept of God, could you explain to them what the Warvows are and tell them more about the feared Burdens that have been causing mayhem since a few decades back?"
Jerman scratched his head.
"Warvows are angels enhanced with technology that is still totally unknown to us. Well, angels by themselves are beings of pure light and virtue, derived from God himself. But Warvows are more human. They can speak, feel, and even think way too much on their own. No one has a damn clue where their technology came from. They have these bizarre metallic implants in their body that grant them a series of weapons or specific abilities. If all angels are derived from God, there is probably an infinite amount of Warvows out there, always being deployed from Heaven."
The interviewer asked.
"And what is the goal of God and the Warvows?"
Jerman looked like he'd been wanting to hear that.
"Finally a decent question. As I said, God can feel as much wrath as any of us. So, he's totally furious with Earth ever since the Antichrist took over. Presumably, until humanity goes back to denying sin instead of embracing it, Warvows will always be roaming around."
The interviewer took notes.
"What about the Burdens?"
Jerman smiled, fixing his hat.
"Burdens have a lot of concepts. Us, living sentient beings, have two forms of spiritual currency. There's sin and there's virtue. If you have too much sin and no virtue, you go to Hell. If you have too much virtue and no sin, you go to Heaven. If you're balanced, you go to Hellvenn, the Hell that the satanists preach about nowadays. Hellvenn is our ideal version of Hell. Lust, greed, sloth…all of that forever. Anyway, Burdens are people who went to Hell and were given the opportunity to atone for their sins. Every time you earn a virtue, a sin goes down and vice versa. The demon in question will ask the Burden to hunt other sinners. All the information about sin and virtue I just explained is contained in a physical artifact known as the Suffix, accessed by someone with hellish powers. When a Burden captures a Suffix, they will feed the demon that offered the pact with said sin, and in exchange, their sin debt will be lowered by the entity. However, a Suffix can only be collected from a dead person. This means that a Burden is always looking for sinners. But, as our lord and savior Satan said, we are all sinners. So, Burdens are out hunting for anyone, any mere crumble of sin. From the poor bastard who's stealing bread to drug dealers and sex offenders, they want ALL of those sins."
The interviewer, slightly shocked, inquired again.
"And if they don't collect those sins?"
The detective smirked smugly.
"Their soul is condemned."
Totally scared, Elias slammed the laptop, wiping a few droplets of sweat from his face.
"Demon inside of me? Collecting sins? Pact? I sold my soul without knowing? I died and they brought me back to life?!"
As his mind raced, Elias found the phone he was previously looking for behind a pillow. He unlocked it, not seeing a single message or phone call. He tried to search for himself in the news or community groups but didn't find a single thing.
"…That's how it ended?"
Elias seemed both sad and disgusted with the aftermath of his suicide. Not even his parents noticed his absence. The session with Jennifer proved to be true; Elias had no one to rely on, nothing to lose, nothing to gain…so he might as well make something out of it. Holding back his tears, Elias searched for nearby spiritual centers. One quickly caught his attention: Vulva Venaris. Although the location clearly had a lewd name, Elias didn't think much of it. Reading the reviews, he was shocked to see that many people complimented the establishment itself but complained about the odd behavior of the owner.
Spiritual centers such as these—known as Shacks—were relatively common throughout the United States of Gomorrah. Small businesses that made a profit from tarot reading, bottom-shelf spells, books, and often drugs. Some were only for women, some were more extreme, and some were lighter. These Shacks are run by men or women named Vitches, regular humans with extensive knowledge about satanism and the esoteric in general. Based on the description for Vulva Venaris, this was one of the dangerous ones, but he didn't care at all at this point.
As he looked around his new mysterious home, he tried to find a way to hide his caprine look. After he found a hoodie and a baseball cap, he cleverly carved one hole for each horn on the hat, then hid it with the hoodie and three layers of other baseball caps. It looked ridiculous, but at least the hoodie hid it. He ventured out of the apartment, noticing that he was in a rather nice apartment complex. As he took the elevator down, he used the GPS on his phone to guide himself towards Vulva Venaris.
As he reached his destination, he was met with an odd choice of engineering and decoration. The Shack consisted of a small rented space with all-black paint and a neon sign containing a pentagram and a Venus symbol in the center. The sign was flickering, showcasing the rather dubious integrity of the establishment. As he passed the door, a bell rang, and the door closed behind his back.
His first sights were all that you would expect in a Shack: dissected tongues, satanic bibles and tomes, daggers, blood samples, herbs, and all sorts of material for spells or related studies. As he poked around some tarot cards, he still didn't see the Vitch behind the whole operation. So, he carefully peeked into a red curtain at the backstage of the establishment, hearing heavy breathing and constant thumping.
On high alert, he sneaked one eye through the curtain, seeing an all-red room with a bed decorated with neon satanic adornments. The bed had a petite, blonde woman laid down with her legs spread wide open, fully nude from the waist down. On the other end of the bed lay another woman of similar build but with more distinctive characteristics: red and long hair, pale skin with many freckles, accompanied by her classic Vitch style. She wore a black cropped shirt with a pentagram containing the word "BITCH" written with a B over a V, jean shorts with whale-tail underwear showing at her waist, and black fishnets.
As the women held their intimate act, Elias couldn't help but freeze in place, still trying to piece together what he just saw.
"Oh…Oh, Harper…D-Don't…Don't do this to me…"
The blonde woman exclaimed as her body jerked back every time the so-called "Harper" maintained the oral stimulation. Harper raised her head, looking at her while still keeping her face and mouth glued to her legs.
"What's the matter? You didn't know that a seduction spell requires an act of lust as the last tribute?"
Harper said teasingly, once again shoving her entire tongue on the blonde's parts.
"O-Oh…I'm…I-I'm gonna…O-Oh my god…"
She said while trembling. As Harper smirked between licks and stimulated the woman's areas, Elias stormed into the room, lacking the strength to even scream.
"I-I NEED HELP!"
The blonde immediately screamed back, looking at Elias, using the sheets to hide her body. Harper, from the sudden push, fell on her back from the bed, grunting as she looked at Elias.
"WHAT THE FUCK?"
Harper exclaimed, looking at Elias with burning anger in her greenish eyes. The blonde woman immediately stood up, grabbing her underwear and pants from the floor, fleeing the room. Harper then rushed Elias, pinning him against the wall, holding his throat.
"Didn't the whore that spat you out teach you to wait in line, you fucking weirdo? Look at your fucking face. Are you trying to sneak into an all-woman's Shack to peep on me and my clients? LIKE YOU JUST FUCKING DID?"
She pressed harder and harder. Still struggling to overcome her grasp, Elias took off his hoodie and baseball caps, showing his caprine half-skull. Harper immediately eased her grip, looking at Elias with fascination.
"I-Is that…?"
Elias coughed.
"SORRY! I-I'm sorry, okay?! I didn't mean to see any of that! It's not like I imagined it was!"
Although visibly disgusted by Elias's commentary, Harper reached for a grimoire on her shelf, shuffling the pages frantically until finding the picture of an entity in one of the last pages. The page barely had anything written, whereas the other ones had a plethora of information. It consisted of only an image: an androgynous being with their hands up and down, holding the sun and the moon, along with a black goat head. The body of the entity was greatly altered, with many parts missing.
"W-What is that?"
Elias asked, unaware.
"You're…You're a Burden."
Elias took a step back.
"H-How…?"
Harper finally calmed down, sighing.
"I know a suicidal when I see one."
She slightly pulled down her shirt, near the height of her breasts, showing multiple pellet-sized burn marks. She smiled, asking about Elias's experience.
"How did you do it?"
He pointed to his throat.
"Gunshot to the throat."
She ran her fingers over the burns.
"Shotgun pellets. Took a 00 Buck to the chest."
Elias's eyes boggled. He didn't know how to react to meeting someone as broken as himself.
"So you're a Burden too…?"
She shook her head.
"I'm a Vitch. My suicide attempt was stopped by my Heriata."
Elias seemed more confused with each affirmation.
"I'm not even going to repeat myself and ask more questions…I just want you to take this shit out of my head so I can go home and pretend I didn't see what I JUST saw."
He pointed toward his horns.
Harper sat down.
"Okay, you virgin whack. I'll try to explain as much as I can without info-dumping too much, or that simple mind of yours is going to turn to mush. So, pay attention. A Burden is someone who took the responsibility to collect others' sins in exchange for forgiveness of their own, guaranteeing that their soul stays out of Hell. If they don't meet a quota within a certain time period, they're sent to Hell. But, you might be asking yourself how Burdens collect these sins? Every time a Burden is brought back to life, their body is fused with the Penance of one of Satan's spawns. If you complete your duty or just flat out die, the entity goes back to where it came from and it all goes full circle. Since you're suicidal, you're knee-deep in debt. I can't do anything about it. You better hunt some sins, weirdo, or your soul will be torn to bits by flaming whips every day. And not the way I like it."
She laughed to herself. Elias ran his fingers through his hair.
"…Penance?"
She sat on her table, playing around with her bra.
"Every living being has sin and virtue inside their bodies. Sin and virtue are mere forces of nature, like good luck and bad luck. But if someone is skilled enough, they can use sin and virtue to create alternative sources of forces of nature. The type of force will be determined by many things, mainly by how you were trained and predisposed you were from birth. Burdens can use sin to create Penance, a form of energy that channels the powers of the demon through their body, allowing a mere skinny snotty loser like you to use hellish abilities. I'm a Vitch, so I can use my sin to produce Heriata, a form of energy that allows me to tap into the sin and virtue of others and manipulate it as I wish."
Elias sat on the ground, hugging his knees.
"I-I-I-I-I…"
After nonstop gagging, the woman laughed again.
"Not what you expected, right? When you read a comic or something, you always think about how you would react if you gained powers. Turns out that after the five seconds of euphoria, it just grows on you. Like walking and breathing. Besides, you're the same age as me, so you were born when the Antichrist was already ruling. Why are you so dumb about basic demonology and the esoteric?"
Elias looked up.
"My parents were secretly Christians for some time. They didn't allow me to learn anything, not even in school. Nowadays I think they just gave up."
Harper shrugged.
"Well, you can't argue with the man in charge."
The bell to the Shack rang once again. Harper angrily stood up, pointing at the figure who had just entered before having her angry rant interrupted by complete surprise.
"Hey, asshole! We're closed, don't you know how to—WHAT THE FUCK?"
Elias looked up at the man who had just entered, and his eyes almost melted at the sight. That was Detective Jerman Kenner, the most experienced demonologist in the world. He reached for his trench coat, showing them a badge that contained the logo of his investigative firm, dubbed Final Lead.
"Elias Lascaux. I'd like to have a word with you. I'm taking you in, Burden."