Deal with a Demon

The security camera is reporting a demon at Magtok's doorstep. A demon. This is some kind of joke, right? He's done with that sort of thing. AMEN is dead and buried, the heroes he would've liked to oppose are all gone, and his last serious attempt at wreaking havoc and being a supervillain was foiled by a bored cosplayer, an invincible robot boy, and his own ennui. He's been out of the game for years. His soul is already spoken for and there's already a hitgoblin assigned to Reinholdt. What would the underworld want with him now? Is this about the marriage thing? Is Lady Mephisto here to trade his marriage for the life of an old friend? I mean, as ludicrous as that kind of deal sounds, it makes more sense than trying to buy his soul, right? What would he even be able to buy with his withered, blackened soul anyway, Prime's death? A cleaned-out basement? Bah. Well let's give her the professional courtesy of hearing this out and then send her away, because only a moron sells their own soul.

"Computer, dramatic entrance five...no, six. We finally refilled the kerosene tanks a day ago, so dramatic entrance six," the cyborg commands, tugging his purple hood over his head before pausing, shaking his head, and pushing it back down below his shoulders. No, better to go unhooded for this one. This is a complete stranger with strange infernal power, and if this somehow turns into a fight, we'll need peripheral vision. He steps on a glowing platform, running a last-second diagnostic check on a few subsystems before taking a deep breath and putting on his trademark scowl. Alright, here we go, Magtok. Business as usual. Just scowling at a stranger at your doorstep and telling them to scram. Nothing you haven't done before at the height of your power and influence in the Nexus, nothing you can't still do now.



The front door swings open out of nowhere, beckoning the succubus inside. All throughout the shadowy foyer, thin jets of flame shoot up towards the ceiling, illuminating the darkened entry hall just enough to call attention to the circular hatch in the middle of the room, which opens up to allow a platform decorated with more geysers of fire to rise up from below to ground level, lighting up the cavern and simultaneously putting a wall of fiery pillars between Magtok and his guest. He regards her with a cold, appraising stare from an obsidian throne, which rises past the ground floor and up to nearly fifteen feet high, letting his mismatched eyes look down upon her like the tiny insect she truly is. Eventually, once the throne has finished ascending, the majority of the spouts of flame die out, with only a few small torches left lit to illuminate the chrome supercriminal in the middle of the room.

"You have made it past the cyberwolves, trekked through the asbestos forest, and hiked through the meadow of human ashes to get here, assuming you didn't just skip past all of that and teleport instead. All to get to my doorstep. All to walk in here. All without an appointment. I would like to know why," Magtok demands, more curious than scornful. Most people don't even know about the asbestos forest until he mentions it, of course, but a dormant volcano like Mt. Enn isn't exactly Maggy World, either. The area is very unwelcoming, and it's that way by design. People shouldn't be coming all the way out here without (what they believe to be) a good reason.