(Second Prologue. )

Six months ago...

The demons gathered.

Azazel had told them that it would be happening soon. Not everyone believed Azazel, of course. For all his power, he was still a demon, and demons lied- no one knew that better than the demons themselves. And even if he wasn't lying, not all the hellspawn were convinced that the old bastard would be able to pull it off. Some thought the plan too convoluted- corrupting a whole bunch of children and having them compete with each other to see who would be most worthy to lead Azazel's army.

Some just didn't like the plan, especially since it called for them to be led by a human. Yes, it was a human handpicked (and handcrafted, in many ways) by Azazel, but still a human. Most demons had long lost whatever connection to humanity they once had, and those who had some dim recollection of their time on the mortal plane before they were sent back to hell didn't exactly look back on that time with fondness. But many believed in Azazel. They were willing to put their faith in him if it meant getting out. They were willing to subvert their wills to a human if it meant getting out. They would stand here at the edge of the gate, waiting, waiting, waiting, as long as it meant getting the hell out.

The gate had been put there by a human who was probably the most hated of that species among demon kind: Samuel Colt. A hunter who'd constructed a pistol that could kill demons- not just send them back to hell, which was certainly bad enough, but actually end them- and who'd constructed the Devil's Gate that kept the pathway between Earth and hell closed, forcing demons to more subtle means of entering the mortal plane. Most demons were too lazy, too incompetent, or too stupid to contrive subtle means of escape. Or they simply didn't want to deal with the agita of having to follow the exact terms of the spell that summoned them, limited by the power of the human who cast the summoning.

So they gathered.

And they waited.

Colt, for whatever reason, had constructed the gate so that it could only be unlocked by his pistol. And now, after an eternity of waiting, the metallic clank of the pistol being inserted into the iron gate echoed throughout hell. The demons screamed and cheered and pushed and shoved. This was it- this was freedom, freedom at last. Freedom to roam the Earth, free to wreck havoc. With the squeal of century old hinges, the gate flew open.

Freedom! Out they crawled, out they ran, out they flew. Some held back, recalling that Colt had also surrounded the gate with an iron pentagram, but Azazel had planned for that- the pentagram had been broken by the human who would lead them.

(Another reason, those who had faith pointed out the doubters, why it was wise for Azazel to conscript a human. ) But there was no human here to lead them. No commands were given, no instructions, nothing.

They were truly free.

The demons scattered to the nine winds, Azazel's plan forgotten as they became drunk with the knowledge that were unfettered on Earth and could do whatever they wanted...