The bar was loud and packed tight with bodies. Smoke hung thick in the air from cigarettes and whatever else people were burning in the corners.
The music thumped from speakers mounted on the walls, some heavy electronic track with a bass line that made the floor vibrate under your boots. Lights flashed red and blue over the crowd, cutting through the haze.
Most of the people at the tables and bar stools were regular humans looking for a cheap drink after a long shift or a place to forget their problems.
But not all of them. Aron could pick out the others without trying – the way they moved too smooth, the slight glow in their eyes when the lights hit them just right, the way they watched the room like they were always ready for something to go wrong.
This was Baal's place, a spot where the lines between worlds got blurry and no one asked too many questions if they wanted to keep breathing.
Aron sat at the far end of the bar, his back to the wall so he could see everything. He had a glass of whiskey in front of him that he hadn't touched much.
His hat sat low on his head, hiding most of his face. The long coat he wore covered the rest of him. He wasn't here for the drinks or the crowd. He had come because word on the street said Baal might have information on Eve.
Leads like this didn't come easy, and Aron had chased enough dead ends over the last few months to know better than to ignore one. He kept his eyes moving across the room, waiting for the right moment to make his move.
Three men had cornered a blond woman near the back hallway that led to the restrooms. She looked out of place in the bar – nice clothes, clean hair, nervous eyes darting around like she had walked in by mistake thinking it was just another spot to grab a cocktail.
The men were big, tattooed, with mean smiles that showed they did this kind of thing often. The leader, a bald guy with tattoos running up his neck, had her by the arm and was pulling her closer.
"Come on, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough from too many smokes and too much booze. "Don't be like that. We just want to have some fun with you." He slapped her ass hard enough to make her flinch.
The other two laughed and stepped in tighter, blocking any escape route she might have tried. One of them grabbed her other shoulder and squeezed. "Yeah, stay a while. The night's young."
The woman tried to pull away again. "Let me go. Please. I just want to leave." Her voice shook, but the men only laughed louder.
Aron watched the whole thing for another minute. He didn't like getting involved in small shit like this. It wasn't his problem, and he had bigger things to deal with.
But when the bald guy yanked her arm hard enough to make her cry out and the other two started shoving her toward the hallway, Aron stood up. His chair scraped loud against the floor.
He walked over slow, boots heavy on the sticky surface. The three men noticed him coming. They turned, sizing him up like he was just another drunk looking for trouble.
"The fuck you want?" the bald one growled, still holding the woman's arm.
"Let her go," Aron said. His voice stayed flat, no emotion in it.
The leader laughed right in his face. "Mind your own business, asshole. This doesn't concern you."
"But...Boss," one of the other two started, glancing at Aron like he recognized something that made him pause.
Aron didn't wait. "I said let her go you fucking cunt!" he bellowed. The words came out loud enough to cut straight through the music.
For a second, everything in the bar seemed to pause. The music stuttered like someone had yanked the cord. The lights overhead flickered once, bright and sharp.
The three men froze in place. Something in Aron's stare hit them hard. They let the woman go fast, stepping back like they had been burned. They gave her a clear gap, wide enough for her to run straight to the door without anyone touching her.
Aron jerked his head toward the exit, telling her without words to get out.
The woman stared at him, tears shining in her eyes. Her hands shook as she rubbed the spot on her arm where the bald guy had gripped her. She knew how close she had come.
For a moment back there, she had thought these guys were going to drag her out the back and she wouldn't see morning. Or worse.
"Th-thank you… mister," she stammered. Then she turned and ran for the door, pushing through the crowd. Under her breath she whispered a promise to herself never to set foot in a bar ever again.
Aron let out a slow breath. The glow that had started in his eyes faded away. The music picked back up, steady this time. The lights stopped flickering.
Around them, the crowd started moving like normal again. People went back to their drinks and conversations. No one said a word about what just happened. They all acted like they hadn't seen a thing. Humans were good at denial. It kept them alive in places like this.
A low chuckle came from behind Aron.
"Ha… should we talk inside?" Baal said. His tone was half-amused, half-wary, like he knew exactly who he was dealing with and wasn't sure if he liked it.
Aron adjusted his hat with a flick of his wrist. "Lead the way."
They moved through the bar toward a door at the back. Baal walked like he owned the place, which he did.
A couple of guys at the tables nodded at him as they passed but kept their eyes off Aron. The hallway behind the door was narrow and dimly lit with a single bulb.
Baal pushed open another door at the end. They stepped into the back room. A single red bulb hung from the ceiling, casting everything in a deep red glow.
Two luxury sofas faced each other across a low table. In the corner, a small private bar setup gleamed with bottles of liquor. The door closed behind them with a heavy click, cutting off most of the noise from the main bar. The silence in here felt thick, like it was on purpose.
Baal gestured for him to sit on one of the sofas. "So," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "what brings the great Slayer into my humble den?" He clapped once.
A server moved near without being noticed, setting down a shot of tequila in front of Baal. He swigged it, hummed appreciation. "Humans and their inventions. Delightful."
Aron sat down, keeping his back straight. He placed his hat on the table in front of him. He had chased this lead too long to waste time on games. "Save the charm," he said. "I'm looking for Eve."
Baal paused. Then a slow laugh escaped him. It started low and built up. His face changed a little as he laughed—something sharper showed for a second, like the outline of horns and a flicker of heat in his eyes.
He pushed it back and looked human again. "You're serious," Baal said, leaning forward. "You. Want. Eve."
Aron didn't reply right away. His voice came out tight when he did speak. "If you don't know where she is, just say so. Don't waste my time."
The amusement on Baal's face disappeared fast. He waved his hand toward the door. It opened right away. Men started filing in one by one. They spread out around the room, forming a circle.
The first guy was built like a tank, with a metal pipe resting on his shoulder. The next had a shotgun slung over his arm, finger already near the trigger. Two more had claws extended from their hands that weren't quite human.
A fifth carried a chain wrapped around his fist. They all looked like they had done this before. They positioned themselves to block the door and cover every angle.
"So," Baal said, his voice smooth like a purr now. "Slayer, I'll ask nicely first—why are you in my den asking about the First Woman, and I will say this again, I am not, and I mean Not fond of jokes...?"
Aron stayed seated. He looked relaxed, but there was danger in how still he sat. He had dealt with demons like Baal before. They always talked big until the real shit started. "Just give me the information...Baal, you know what happens if I don't get what I want."
One of the thugs, a swaggering guy with a scar across his cheek and a pipe in his grip, stepped forward. He grinned wide. "You gonna threaten the boss again, Slayer? We got you outnumbered here. You think you can just walk in and—"
"I always hated that name," Aron cut him off. His tone was cold. "I'm a holy being—first of the first. Don't reduce me to tribal nicknames like that..."
Baal stood up slowly from his sofa. His smile snapped like a wire. "You fucker," he spat. He slammed his hand down on the low table. The glasses on it jumped and one fell over, spilling liquid across the wood.
"You erased a quarter of our kind in that last purge. You led the charge yourself. That name fits you in every sense possible. No, you fucking deserve that name....like a stain to your holy fucking cloak."
Aron didn't move. He remembered the purge. It had been centuries ago, but the details stuck with him. He had been ordered to clean house, to take down the ones who had crossed the line too far.
A quarter of their kind gone in one sweep. It wasn't personal back then. It was just the job. But demons like Baal never forgot. They held grudges like they held their weapons – tight and ready to use.
Baal's eyes narrowed. He waved his hand at the men around the room. They shifted, gripping their weapons tighter. The one with the shotgun racked a round into the chamber. The guy with the claws flexed his fingers, making them click.
"You come in here, save some random human bitch, then demand info on the First Woman like you own the place. You got balls, I'll give you that. But this is my den. My rules. You don't get to demand shit."
Aron kept his hands on his knees. He could feel the tension building in the room like static before a storm.
He didn't want the fight. Not yet. He needed the info on Eve first. She was the only one who could point him toward the next piece of the puzzle he had been chasing for years.
The old agreements, the seals that kept everything balanced – Eve knew where they stood now. Without her, he was running blind. But if Baal wanted to push it, Aron would push back. Hard.
The scarred thug laughed. "Boss, let me shut this holy prick up right now. One swing and—"
"Shut up," Baal snapped at him without looking away from Aron.
"I asked you a question, Slayer. Why Eve? What's your angle? You planning another wipeout? Or is this personal?"
Aron exhaled through his nose. "It's not a joke. I need her location. That's it. You know something or you don't. Your call."
Baal's face twisted. The human mask slipped more this time. Heat rolled off him in waves.
"You erased a quarter of us and now you want favors? You think I forgot the screams? The way you cut through ranks like it was nothing? No. You don't get answers here. You get what you deserve."
The men in the room tensed up more. Pipes raised. Shotguns aimed. Claws extended fully.
Baal raised his hand high. The room answered with a roar of readiness from the thugs.
"Gut him up!" he shouted.
The men surged forward all at once.