I followed the man deep into the darkness. If pedestrians had happened to be passing by, they would have heard a loud crash, like a sack of garbage landing in a metal trash can. Just a cat chasing rats, they would’ve reasoned.

They wouldn’t have been too far off.

I left him in a bloody heap with a broken nose and a pain in his head that would last long after the booze wore off.

Be glad I’m leaving you with your eyes and tongue, I thought as I left the alley with a handful of crisp new bills.

When I returned to Buster Freeze, the freckled teen met me with as much boredom and dismissal as before.

“Two scoops?” he asked.

I shook my head. No.

***

From the top of an LED billboard flashing advertisements of the latest designer watch, I surveyed the glittering city below with a gallon of ice cream between my thighs. The city stretched out as far as the eye could see.

Scattered throughout this vastness, countless women were silently preparing dinner for their ungrateful families; or sitting quietly behind a desk, wishing for nothing more than to disappear; or cowering in a corner, with their hands covering their heads, wondering if they would live to see another day.

Like I used to do.

But no more. I would never be taken advantage of again. I would be the one standing over the bloody heap, my mouth wide open, ready to feast on the rotting flesh. I would prey on the weak, for their weakness would give me strength.

I took another bite from the half-eaten gallon of the Camellia Tornado. What was left was mostly melted already, but I kept eating. I wasn’t going to stop until I had the last spoonful because with ice cream, just as with life, more is always better.

***

Hell isn’t what you think it is. It’s so much worse.

It’s not just the flames, so white-hot they melt your soul. There’s the cold, too. Sometimes, it’s an emptiness so vast that you feel suffocated by a paralyzing loneliness.

Every fear you have, or will ever have, you will find it there.

Most lose themselves to madness. I don’t blame them. There wasn’t much else you could do to escape the misery.

Some may see me and say that I, too, have gone mad. But it’s not madness… It’s clarity. My mind is as lucid as the day I was condemned to Hell by the Gods.

Hate has a way of keeping you focused, I guess.

I see things for what they are, now. There’s no compassion or love, only predator and prey. If I see something that I like, I take it. Why shouldn’t I? There are always those who are more powerful than you, trying to take you for all you’re worth.

I’m just speeding up the process.

Clothes, food, cars… If I like it, I take it.

Ahh… cars. Such amazing inventions, aren’t they? They’re my favorite thing about this shitty world. Happiness is taking a corner in a rear-wheel drive with a locking differential. Heh.

Sure, I may have crashed a few cars while I was teaching myself how to drive, but now I can win any chase you put me in.

It was funny to hear the reporters talking about me, though. The first time was when I was working on Flavor #22: Lavender Lava. It was a little tart for my taste, but whatever… It’s still ice cream, the only thing that has never disappointed me.

I was halfway done with it, walking down the sidewalk, when an outdoor bar had a report about me on its TV. English was still hard for me back then, but I got the gist of it.

“And now we go to Melinda Fraser, who’s at the scene of the accident. Melinda?”

“Thank you, Michael. As you can see, the stolen vehicle behind me crashed into several parked cars. There were no injuries reported. Eyewitnesses say an Asian woman, approximately five foot nine, said to be in her early twenties with long, straight black hair, walked away from the crash, seemingly unscathed.”

They cut to a blurry security camera shot of me as I crossed the street, leaving the burning wreckage behind me.

“According to authorities, the suspect seems to have a strong interest in both classic American and Japanese domestic market cars. If anyone has information regarding this case, they’re urged to contact their local authorities. Michael, back to you.”

Five foot nine? Heh, maybe in heels. But keep looking. It’s not a simple thing to catch a demon.

***

The night it all changed was about a year ago. I was minding my own business on the roof of a warehouse in the garment district, thinking up some more trouble to get into, when I heard the sound of a struggle coming from below.

I looked over the edge. Behind a dumpster in the loading zone, I saw a man in dark coveralls lying on top of a woman, his thick, hairy hand over her mouth, preventing her from screaming. I’ve seen violence in my life, but there was something different about this moment. It wasn’t what I saw. It was what I felt.

Filled with rage, I jumped from the roof and landed heavily next to them, cracking the ground on impact. Before the man could react, I delivered a kick that shattered his ribs and sent him flying into the brick wall of the warehouse, hard enough to crack the bricks and mortar. I stood and watched as his body fell to the ground, motionless. Then I heard her sobbing quietly.

“Th-thank you. I… I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t—”

Before she could finish, I wheeled around, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her body against the dumpster.

“Why the hell didn’t you fight?! Why the hell did you let him do that to you?! Tell me!! Tell me!!”

I felt warm tears running down my cheeks as I squeezed my hand tighter. Tighter… until I felt her life slowly slipping out of her.

It would be so easy to end it right here. Just a fraction of an instant separating life and death. People like her don’t deserve to live. People like her who only feed the cruel and the depraved with their weakness…

But as I saw her eyes roll back to white, I let her go and slumped down to my knees. For the first time since that day so long ago when I had begged for my life, I cried.

How could I do what I must if I was this weak? Nothing had changed. Absolutely nothing.

I heard the woman cough and wheeze and regain her breath. For a long while, we stayed there, me on my knees, her hugging her legs with her back against the dumpster.

I sensed her moving closer to me, and I felt her small hand touch my back gently.

“It’s okay,” she said in her frail voice.

I looked up at her. She looked to be in her late twenties, with dark, curly hair and eyes like obsidian.

“We’ll be okay,” she said with a smile.

I got to my feet, and she followed me up.

“You’d better go,” I said.

“Wh-what about you?” she asked with worry in her eyes.

“I’m fine... Hurry. Go call the cops.”

She took a few uncertain steps toward the street.

“Hey…” I called.

“Maria,” she said. “My name’s Maria.”

“I-I’m…” For some reason, the words wouldn’t come, words telling her that I was sorry and that it wasn’t her fault. None of it was her fault. But she seemed to understand, for she smiled and nodded before running towards the lights.

***

I waited on top of the roof until the cops came and took the asshole away, moaning with what I hoped was a chest full of broken ribs. The cops looked around, probably for me, but I had no intention of chit-chatting with them at the police station.

So I did what I always do when I’m in the mood to be anonymous: I put on my oversized hoodie and a baseball cap and melted into the steady stream of people on the sidewalk.

Yes, I’ve grown more powerful during my time spent in Hell, but I’m still so weak… physically… mentally… in so many ways. I need to be stronger. There’s still so much I need to do before I can become a powerful demon.

Only then will I be ready to take down the Gods.