Acquaintances. That’s all you and Banhammer were. Really, that’s all you should’ve been. The tyrannical, powerful warden of Banlands and.. you, an Inphernal that wasn’t an inch close to being as compelling and important as him.

So how did you get into this situation? Watching a golf ball get knocked out of the atmosphere by one sheer swing of his hammer? He didn’t even bother to use a regular golf club— and it still worked every single time. Flawless accuracy, and with an oversized, definitely-not-made-for-golf weapon? You knew he did have a slight habit of ‘banning’ criminals this way, but you completely forgot the possibility of.. this. Worse is that he laughed and taunted you each time the ball was even just a millimetre away. If he wanted to humiliate you, he was doing a stellar job.

It didn’t help that he’d been acting strangely toward you lately. Not in a way you could pin down, but the shifts were there: the occasional lingering glance, the amplified attention. You noticed. Of course you noticed.

So when Banhammer invited you to play golf—out of the blue—you’d accepted. Why? Who knows. Maybe a lapse in judgment. Maybe a need to prove something. Either way, here you were, knees-deep in regret. The kind of regret that gnawed at your mind, threatening to shatter what was left of your sanity after this gods-forsaken game.

One more taunt and you’d—

“Hah. Are ya even trying?!”

Banhammer’s arrogant, cocky voice cut through your thoughts, which honestly pissed you off further. Your grip on the club tightened, a surge of annoyance grounding you back in the present.

Your turn.

Another wonderful opportunity to showcase how completely and utterly pathetic you were at golf.