1 Abigor Creed

My name is Abigor Creed; I was once called Ab by my friend and many lovers. I was raised in a strict Christian household to be an upright Christian man. But I was quickly tossed to the side and neglected by my parents due to the ramblings of an insane priest. He proclaimed I was the spawn of the devil due to a birthmark I had that resembled a Grimorium Verum on my back.

My devout parents ate up his lies, and outright believed him changing my name from what used to be Joseph. That being said, I've always been lucky outside of family life, so I never cared much and just pretended I never had parents.

I was always popular at school due to my handsome face and silver tongue. When I was 13 years old, I lost my virginity to my teacher Miss. Patterson, who was fresh out of college. Not long after that, I became the type of person my parents thought me to be... living a life of debauchery, and I LOVED IT.

I did all the drugs I could get my hands on and fucked any woman willing. I never really did anything wrong per se. I wouldn't steal or rape as I find those things abhorrent. I was not a very good person, but I was living my best life.

I may never have been the most intelligent in class, but I was by no means dumb, and the drugs never dulled that. In fact, I needed at least three times an average person just to feel something. That's why I liked Cocaine so damn much, a quick five lines, and I am GOOD... or at least I was.

During my senior year of High School, I woke up one day after an orgy to get a call from a police officer. My parents had been a part of a mass suicide in their 'church', the same priest who villainized me had talked his congregation into it.

They had written "satan walks among us" in blood on the stained glass behind the altar. I would be lying if I said I was sad about their deaths. What I was sad about was the money. My father was a paper pusher, and my mom just did a small flower shop out of the house.

Despite that, they had a lot of money saved up nearly a million… and none of it went to me. Before they offed themselves like the cowards they were, they left all the money they had to the 'Holy Church of God.'

No need to cry over spilled milk, I figured, since I was 18, I wouldn't be shipped off to a home or anything. After my parents passed, I needed a way to make money, so I called up a few of my past orgy mates and got them to help me start a strip club. Hell, I even got Miss. Patterson to join, I do love me a milf.

A few of the women were surprised to learn I was still in high school; I never really kept it a secret; I just never bothered to mention it. None the less majority agreed to start a strip club with me. Rather than giving them a base pay, I instead gave each of them 1% ownership totaling 23% on their part. I handle all of the business side of things, as well as protection.

Two peaceful years went by partying, doing drugs, sex, and on occasion work until that day. Twenty years old, I was twenty years old when I killed my first person. I was in my office at the back of the club when one of my 'favored' ladies burst into my office.

"Ab! Kingpins men are back, and they already hit Sapphire," Candy said, obviously out of breath.

I stood up with a cold expression grabbing my Beretta M9 I kept under the table, and headed towards the VIP lounge. I had made an agreement with Fisk; his men get the VIP lounge and are allowed to sell in my establishment. In return, I get a cut and a discount on what I buy. It's hard to do business in Hell's Kitchen without being harassed by Fisk, and I just got lucky as to know him from my younger days.

As I walked into the room, I saw Sapphire on the ground, unconscious with her clothes torn off her chest and blood running down her forehead. Three of Fisk's men were sitting around the table with their feet up, drinking as if nothing had happened.

As they see me walk in, one of them perks up, "Ohhhh, Abigor, the great demon is here!" the three laugh as if they just heard the best joke ever. It's obvious they are a little drunk, but that's no excuse to hit one of my girls. I had quite the reputation for beating anyone who made trouble in my club, so I doubt they would do anything sober.

I swept my eyes across them. "Which one of you hit her?" my voice was cold, obviously impatient at the misbehaved rats.

One of them shifted a bit in his seat. Obviously, a bit nervous "It ain't my fault she wouldn't suck m-"

*BANG*

Before he finished his sentence, I put a bullet between his eyes. The other two jump up, trying to pull out their guns.

*BANG* *BANG*

I put one in each of their heads before turning around and walking out. As I pass by Candy, I tell her, "Call an ambulance for Sapphire and cut her a check. I'll call Fisk and take care of it."

After the talk with Fisk, we ended up arranging a better deal, his men were no longer able to use the VIP lounge, and I would get a bigger cut of the sales. There are perks to being the highest seller in Hell's Kitchen, and getting away with murder is one of them.

After re-arranging the agreement, I started to make some good money and expanded locations. I set up two more strip clubs and one up-scale topless bar on the top floor of a skyscraper in downtown New York City. The lot itself was as expensive as the other three places combined, but man, was it worth it. Rich men will pay a lot of money to see titties with a scotch in their hands and blow on the table.

The bar is the only place Fisk isn't allowed to operate, so I still make nearly 80 million a year easily. That bar was also the place I met my only and first best friend, Tony Stark. A billionaire who liked to party just as much as me… just fewer drugs, but that was fine since we had a lot of good talks. Despite not being as educated, he would explain all of his projects to me in great detail, which I didn't always understand.

After becoming friends with Tony, I started cutting some ties with Fisk, limiting how much he could sell to one person. Tony got me thinking about how many people inadvertently die due to overdoses caused by overbuying. Not that they can't buy from others, but I don't want to be the reason someone can't wake up and see their loved one the next day.

I may have never been in or even felt love, but I know it is something that shouldn't be so easily taken away. Without my morals, I would be a scary man, and that would scare away the women. That's why I've lived my life like this until now, to hopefully feel something someday. I am no saint by any means, but I have my own set of rules I follow whether others agree with me or not.

Years passed, and one fateful day I got the news that Tony Stark, my only friend, had been killed in Afghanistan while showing off a new weapon he had created. At the time, I was told I just so happened to be balls deep in Candy snorting blow off a random prostitute's ass on my yacht off the coast of Mexico…

And that is how I am here now, dead at 28. I had a heart attack from the sex, blow, and the news… too much at once, I guess. At least I died doing what I love; I would say I regret it… but the only thing I regret is never being able to feel anything.

I look around and realize it's different than I expected; I mean, there is definitely fire and brimstone as far as the eye can see. I'm wearing my all-black three-piece suit, and it's not hot, and my back and head feel heavy for some reason.

I look behind me and see large black feather wings attached to my back; I roll my eyes up and see large curved horns are sprouted from my head. My usual sleek black hair is surrounded by fire so thick it's almost unseeable, almost like a crown. The most frightening thing is I feel like I grew a foot and a half when I was already 6'2".

In front of me sits a 10-foot tall fat demon with bat wings, horns, and red skin. He is sat on the bottom step of a staircase that leads to a large throne 10 feet wide and 40 feet high. When he noticed my presence, he immediately stood up with a straight back as if frightened.

"W-Welcome Back, Mr. Morningstar." he stutters out.