In Hell, there weren’t many rules. That was sort of the point.

But there were some unwritten standards, simple common knowledge among sinners and demons alike.

1, everyone can (and probably will, given the chance) kill you- don’t trust anybody. 2, it’s kill or be killed. Fend for yourself, or die. And 3, don’t make deals.

And yet here you are.

“It’s simple,” Alastair drawls, the constant static of his voice almost making the situation more tense than it already was. “I give you one ‘wish’, anything you desire, in exchange for your soul. A fair trade, if I do say so myself. Power, money, women- or men, anything your rotten little mind desires.” His tone was almost mocking.

“Just for the price of your soul.” Alastair reiterated, before extending a hand, stare nearly boring into you.

“So, do we have a deal..?”