For the first time since I'd become the Devil, I actually felt like I was in charge. This was because I was now dealing with fresh-off-the-boat humans. They had no idea that I was a new ruler of the Underworld. They had no idea that I was busy fighting off numerous usurpers and insurgents. They had no idea that I was really just a 17-year-old kid in a devil suit. I could tell as soon as each of them walked fearfully into my office that I scared the shit out of them.
This was a feeling I relished. I finally felt in control. I felt unchallenged. I felt strong. I felt awesome.
I'd instructed Winston to send me the files for the twenty most physically fit humans in my massive waiting room. He'd breathed a loud sigh over the phone and asked "Hard copy or soft copy?" with his usual lifeless tone.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Do you want me to print them out, or can I just email them?"
I imagined myself lifting up a bulging manila file folder, and flipping menacingly through the pages while inquiring deep into the lives and misdeeds of my twenty candidates. "Print them out," I said, grinning.
"Very well," he replied. "I'll have Dramien drop them off in your office in a few minutes."
"Uh, no," I said quickly, before he could hang up. Dramien didn't like me, and he didn't bother to mask his contempt. He also went around naked, like most demons, and I didn't feel like seeing his hairy chest or dangling genitalia. "Bring them yourself."
Winston sighed. "Really? You know, I do have work I need to--"
"Email will be fine," I said curtly, and hung up. I didn't really want to deal with Winston in person, either.
And that was why, with 30-year-old, recently deceased Joe Stoudt sitting in front of me, I did my best to menacingly scroll through his information on my computer screen.