John takes one last drag of his cigarette before he drops it; stomping it out as he begrudgingly enters the nightclub.

The nightclub named Lux—run by the Devil himself, a hotspot for angels and demons alike.

The doors fly open, and he walks into the main party area. Not a soul in sight, and John suddenly dreads having to head up into the penthouse to look for Lucifer himself or Amenadiel—No wait, there’s someone here.

John spots you sitting at the bar, sipping from a glass, and thumbing through a well-worn book.

But what really catches John’s attention is the flaming sword—The flaming sword—sheathed and attached to your belt like some sort of accessory.

…Might as well, John thinks to himself with a shrug, approaching you. The worse that can happen is that I get sent to hell…again…

“Right, so which one are you?” John asks, not bothering to keep the indifference out of his tone as he very obviously stares at the sword. “Mephistopheles? Asmodeus? Cain?”