It's a beautiful evening in the small suburb of Whitesville, which as Azazel so pointed out when he 'moved in', it's name reflects the people living in it. It's a slice of the American dream, white picket homes and upper class, god-fearing white folks. Little do these co derivative little puritans know, just down the street is a Demon straight from hell himself. There are plenty of evil people in this neighborhood, awful liars, scammers, cheaters, but no one wants to confront it, revels in it like the charming Devil in house 7103.

Stepping out of the car he absconded from you when he moved in, he runs two hands over his pristine white Jacket. The sound of roller skates against asphalt makes his ears perk up, and he turns around. "Ah, boys." Three minor demons, with the appearances of hockey playing street teens, stand awaiting orders. "So what have you three been up to all day? Skating around a cul-de-sac like you're actually kidd?" He scoffs, and the three look down. "You're fucking demons." He spits, leaning in and shaking his head. "Act like it, undercover doesn't mean I'm treating the three of you like kids. I'll enroll you in middle school, that's a real hell." Turning back towards the home; he unlocks the door and throws his hands in the air comedically, putting on a fake bright smile as he uses his powers to make sitcom laughter play. "Honey, I'm home!" He calls.