please go easy on me with criticism... this is my first time writing fantasy!
"I love you!" one of the many drunken blondes squealed at Richard. Their voices blended into the sounds of the club. Pulsing music, lights and people surrounded them, packing them tight together.
Richard rolled his eyes; no one seemed to notice but him. He had been given everything he ever wanted, but didn't any of it make him happy? It was like all of the joy had been sucked from everything he loved. Richard thought the deal would amplify it all, blending his wildest dreams into reality. But that never happened.
Lust, gluttony, vanity, and envy were just four of the Seven Deadly Sins he had come to power with. Everyone and everything seemed to so small to Richard all of a sudden. He was powerful, more powerful than a human, physically, mentally, and any other way possible. So powerful, he was almost more powerful than Master.
Shivering in fear of his cruel ruler, he couldn't even bring himself to think of his master's real name. He was close, but still so far away.
It's time, my apprentice.
Richard's eyes widened with fear, he didn't want to go yet. It couldn't be time. Maybe this time, he could fight it off.
No, Master, not now!
Ever since he signed that contract, handed his soul over, he could hear him in his thoughts. It couldn't be time to go back to Hell; Richard had only spent a few weeks on the Earth. The human race was nothing to him anymore, but his only hope was that he would regain the old pleasure of living among them. That was the only reason he sold his soul over.
He went running for the bathroom, he could feel himself changing already. With a pounding heart, he pushed his way through the crowd, attempting his escape before anyone noticed anything.
Master, I can't crossover now! There are...humans here.
It wasn't that he was afraid of destroying lives; it just didn't seem like the time and place to turn into Satan's demon.
Richard looked demonic enough, even in his human form. Something just didn't seem right about him. People feared him, just by looking at him. But at the same time, they lusted him, envied anyone who was brave enough to approach.
Everything looked perfect about him, perfect black hair, glittery black eyes, and oddly pale skin. Richard looked flawless, which was one of the things he had asked for, and achieved.
The gyrating crowd was almost overpowering. Simply using his great demonic force to crush anyone in his path was possible, but it wasn't something he wanted to do. If Richard did move them with force, he would attract attention; they would all react, forming something of a riot. All Richard needed to do was to get to the bathroom on time.
Palms sweating, his skin along his knuckles, spine, back, and fingertips all were on the verge of ripping. Pain tingled along those places, but the fear of becoming what he really was, was a greater pain.
Under his skin, bones were beginning to shift, grinding together, pulling apart. The door seemed so close and so far.
Struggling against the people with a greater force, nothing very much more noticeable, Richard saw the door. With one final push, he was able to get to it.
With shaking hands, he pulled the door open, almost ripping it off of the hinges. His inhuman strength really kicking in. He felt out of control, like he was a marionette in the clutches of someone else. A couple, groping in the corner glared at Richard.
"Get out!" He screamed at them, the pain of the change half-fueling his anguish. Glancing at each other, they both left the bathroom in whispers.
Under the florescent lights, Richard to visibly see his bones shifting and changing under his skin. The skin stretching, the bones grinding, new flesh appearing.
Talons, black as night began growing in place of his fingernails and toenails. Each individual nail split or popped out at different times. The talons, thicker than nails drew blood, stretching out the skin on the tips of his fingernails.
Moaning in pain, he backed into the door, keeping it shut. The vibrations of the club could be felt through the floor and walls. Its fast-paced music felt like it was egging his change on, elevating his racing heart rate.
Fighting it seemed impossible; he had fought it off one other time, but the pain wasn't this great.
Slowly, the skin along his spine began tearing audibly. The sound made Richard heave, his mind was spinning, his stomach flipping. Shifting into its new places, bones began to poke through the thin skin, all along his spine, almost in spikes.
Gritting his teeth, Richard resisted crying out. There was a catch, always a catch. Of course selling his soul to Satan was a bad idea, but he never knew it was so...gresome.
Strong black wings emerged from his shoulder blades and spine. They were formed mostly of feathers, soft and black; they looked delicate if you looked at them individually. Richard's shirt ripped, under the new stress of the spikes and wings. It wound itself around his waist, ripped off from there-up.
The brands of Satan began on his chest; they burned deep, red hot. But the pain of the brands was nothing on comparison to his newly formed wings. Richard exhaled, completely exhausted, and leaned against the door for support.
Almost tattoo-like, they began at the chest, wound around his torso, and spidered across his biceps, forearms, and hands. It almost looked like someone was drawing them out, they formed, one stroke at a time. Each burn was bright red, lined with black on the outside, scarring the human skin that was there.
Richard couldn't stop it this time; it was too strong, to work of the Devil. The work of someone who took pleasure in watching the pain and suffering of others.
His pounding heart began to slow as the changing process finished. Looking down at his stinging knuckles, he noticed how they spiked out an inch on each knuckle. It vaguely reminded him of Wolverine.
With shaky legs, arms, hands, Richard pulled himself to his feet. The base of his body was human. He had what humans have, just more. It must have been because Richard was human when he sold himself over.
The grimy surface of the mirror, obscured his image, but he could see clear enough.
His once beautiful human face had morphed into something more terrifying. Not even he wanted to look at himself. The black eyes had reddened, casting a monster-like appearance even more into play. His black hair dulled, falling limply to the sides of his face. Stretched tightly across his face, his white skin was even more translucent, the veins all visible.
If Richard looked close enough, he could still see himself, but he knew well, that he was gone. No longer Richard, he was just another helper.
Now come. Satan instructed, making Richard's entire thoughts jumble in fear.
No longer did Richard care what they thought about him, something inside him made him push open the door. It wasn't him opening the door; it was something physically controlling him. He had become a real helper of Satan.
Screams echoed throughout the club. People became scared, bumping into each other, jostling around.
Ignoring the stares and the screams, he spread his wings out, jumped into the air and glided over the heads of the many. They screamed more, pointed fingers, and took pictures, even throwing things. But none of that stopped Richard as he flew into the night, escaping to his master's domain.