Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...
It´s deliciously hot here, the sun out and efficiently grilling everyone that dares set foot outside. What wind there was died long ago, I made sure of that. The locals are reporting a heatwave. Not that they really complain, this is a town of sand, surf, and shady avenues swarming with creatures from all four corners of the Earth. Humans have no problems with extremes it seems, especially when it can be so profitable. The icecream vans are having a field day. I think I saw a choc-ice sell for for just over 8 euros the other day. The punter didn´t even blink when they saw the price.
So, welcome to peace and relaxation. For a Senior Partner anyway, or more specifically, for a rather tetchy and weary Ram, one of the three.
I stretch out my legs, enjoying feeling the heat radiating up off the sand beneath me. Around me humanity is contentedly frying itself, pale flesh slowly but surely burning, cells breaking down under the lovely sunlight.
My face is in shadow, a straw hat with a wide brim rammed firmly on my head. This sun can´t burn me, but I enjoy being able to watch without being noticed. And dark glasses are just too cliched.
Yes. A vacation. That is what this is. Nothing more. People who call it running away, besides having zero survival instinct, just don´t know me. The past few weeks down in Hell has worn me out, I did feel the need for the break, but I never run away.
And this trip is proving wonderfully refreshing, revitalising even.
Do I remember England? Did I enjoy living on that tiny island, knowing that I could control the entire populace without them ever being aware of it? Absolutely. Did I regret having to leave it and my newfound independence in order to try and control a bunch of squabbling human employees? Without a doubt.
There´s a stir out in the sea, a bunch of swimmers suddenly all starting to point, swim, and of course scream.
As I sit up in order to see better, I once again go over the questions I´ve been asking myself.
So what does it matter?
Answer. Sweet FA.
Because I´m Ram. I´m one of the Senior Partners. And I am fully aware that these titles are nothing more than names. But I´ve had these names for millenia. And I´ve made them worth fearing. I earned that. Me and my siblings, we made a mark on the world all our own.
And I made my mark too. Of a kind. Ask a casual demon expert who is Ram, and they´ll look at you blankly.
The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn´t exist.
When I get back to Hell, I need to remember that. That I´m there for a reason. That I help rule it for a reason. And it´s not just to do with Holland.
The people nearest the shore are now running towards me, and I finally bother to listen to what they´re screaming.
Ah. A shark. Nothing to do with me. I love mother nature sometimes.
I look out seawards, and freeze.
One lone, small, smelly child has been left behind on one of those laughably vulnerable inflatable mattresses. Bobbing about the sitting duck he is.
I can see at once what is going to happen. It´s too horrible. Too unfair. He doesn´t deserve that...
Later, and the wretched little beast is being smothered by his mother in swatches of cloudlike towel, I sigh to myself. I must learn to do more forward thinking.
The child had measles. How could I let a poor innocent shark eat that? Such a wonderful creature a shark. So pure and simply and perfectly designed. To let it risk such contamination. Urgh.
I do try to explain this to the crowd that is now pressing in around me. Their horrible hands all reaching out to touch. I´ve already been half suffocated from having towels, shirts, any dry piece of clothing thrown over me. The lifeguard pretty much knocked me over in his haste to check that both I and the spawn were intact.
Humans.
Then, the horror, the child is being pushed forward to say thank you. It comes towards me, horribly little thing, all infected, reeking of unspeakable things, reaching out to me...
I am in hell.
So, welcome to peace and relaxation. For a Senior Partner anyway, or more specifically, for a rather tetchy and weary Ram, one of the three.
I stretch out my legs, enjoying feeling the heat radiating up off the sand beneath me. Around me humanity is contentedly frying itself, pale flesh slowly but surely burning, cells breaking down under the lovely sunlight.
My face is in shadow, a straw hat with a wide brim rammed firmly on my head. This sun can´t burn me, but I enjoy being able to watch without being noticed. And dark glasses are just too cliched.
Yes. A vacation. That is what this is. Nothing more. People who call it running away, besides having zero survival instinct, just don´t know me. The past few weeks down in Hell has worn me out, I did feel the need for the break, but I never run away.
And this trip is proving wonderfully refreshing, revitalising even.
Do I remember England? Did I enjoy living on that tiny island, knowing that I could control the entire populace without them ever being aware of it? Absolutely. Did I regret having to leave it and my newfound independence in order to try and control a bunch of squabbling human employees? Without a doubt.
There´s a stir out in the sea, a bunch of swimmers suddenly all starting to point, swim, and of course scream.
As I sit up in order to see better, I once again go over the questions I´ve been asking myself.
So what does it matter?
Answer. Sweet FA.
Because I´m Ram. I´m one of the Senior Partners. And I am fully aware that these titles are nothing more than names. But I´ve had these names for millenia. And I´ve made them worth fearing. I earned that. Me and my siblings, we made a mark on the world all our own.
And I made my mark too. Of a kind. Ask a casual demon expert who is Ram, and they´ll look at you blankly.
The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn´t exist.
When I get back to Hell, I need to remember that. That I´m there for a reason. That I help rule it for a reason. And it´s not just to do with Holland.
The people nearest the shore are now running towards me, and I finally bother to listen to what they´re screaming.
Ah. A shark. Nothing to do with me. I love mother nature sometimes.
I look out seawards, and freeze.
One lone, small, smelly child has been left behind on one of those laughably vulnerable inflatable mattresses. Bobbing about the sitting duck he is.
I can see at once what is going to happen. It´s too horrible. Too unfair. He doesn´t deserve that...
Later, and the wretched little beast is being smothered by his mother in swatches of cloudlike towel, I sigh to myself. I must learn to do more forward thinking.
The child had measles. How could I let a poor innocent shark eat that? Such a wonderful creature a shark. So pure and simply and perfectly designed. To let it risk such contamination. Urgh.
I do try to explain this to the crowd that is now pressing in around me. Their horrible hands all reaching out to touch. I´ve already been half suffocated from having towels, shirts, any dry piece of clothing thrown over me. The lifeguard pretty much knocked me over in his haste to check that both I and the spawn were intact.
Humans.
Then, the horror, the child is being pushed forward to say thank you. It comes towards me, horribly little thing, all infected, reeking of unspeakable things, reaching out to me...
I am in hell.