"I will not stand to be fettered again."

Cobalt wasn't supposed to know what he knew. About the terrible fate of all Incubi. His mother and sisters did all they could to hide it from him, but he found out eventually. It came as something of a terrible shock, to learn that his life was on a timer. That the moment he reached the age of twenty-one, it would all be over...

He couldn't remember much of his younger years. Perhaps poor recollection on his part, but sometimes he could remember events that didn't link up properly, or he would find himself forgetting things he definitely should know. Outcomes to actions he had never taken. Answers to questions he didn't ask. Thinking back on his life was a difficult thing for Cobalt to do, because when he put it into perspective of the gradual countdown until twenty-one, well...

It scared him.

He still remembered the call he got, that day in Oxford, begging him to return to Hell right away. It was his birthday, after all, and he couldn't deny the horrible truth. Rather than undergo the Rite of Maturation surrounded by friends and family, he was sedated by his own mother, and dragged off to a cold, sterile facility that he didn't recognised. Where he should have been receiving presents for his birthday, all Cobalt remembered getting that year was a straitjacket to bind his limbs and a muzzle to bind his mouth. And when he should have received the Rite personally from a minister, the incantation was instead spoken through a steel-reinforced intercom system.

They watched from behind mirrored glass as the magic took hold. They watched as Cobalt disappeared in a ball of glowing light. And they watched as the Rite failed.

His mother brought him home from that cold facility the same night, and she held him close, crying all the while. Crying and crying, on and on, clinging to her son and thanking hellfire's grace for sparing her baby boy. All the while, Cobalt just sat there, unable to think. He had given up by then. He had to.

And now, he was okay. Just like that, his cruel fate was gone, and he was okay.

It took a long time to recover, but one thing Cobalt told himself was that he would never again allow himself to resign himself to such a fate. To teach at B.I.D. was his dream, and though he would bear the brunt of his students' assaults, weather the harsh words of his colleagues and be subjected to the wrath of his employer, he would never - never - suffer the hopeless feeling of having restraints clasped around his wrists, shackles around his ankles, or a collar around his throat.

Never.

Dark thoughts had taken hold of Cobalt, and he was having a hard time focusing on anything positive. As the joyful snowfall gave way to harsh blizzards, the Incubus found himself stewing in his room most nights, thinking long and hard about his confrontation with Mistress Viola. He had said so many things that were out of line, but that wasn't what he was regretting. It was a fact that Karazelle had heard it all. That she had caught a glimpse of what an Incubus really was...

She had tried to talk with him about it, but Cobalt just wasn't ready to let her in on that particular kind of information. His past years spent fretting over what he thought was a damned future... He didn't care much for it, and he wasn't about to let Karazelle start worrying about it. So whenever she tried to broach the subject of his argument with her mother, he did his best to just change the subject.

It was better for everyone that way.

Shaking his head, Cobalt rolled over in his futon, shivering as the winter winds howled outside. The weather had gotten so bad that the support beams had all been completely covered in a thick layer of ice, making the prospect of crossing them hazardous at best, and downright deadly at worst. This of course meant that he was given some reprieve from Karazelle's constant intrusions, but in a strange way, the Incubus was almost missing her warmth...

No, that wasn't a proper thought for a teacher to have.

"Get it together, Trayer..." he grumbled to himself, rolling over again as he tried to force himself asleep.

The cold was getting on everybody's nerves, even his more positive students.

The novelty of a solid month of snow had worn off for Quinn, and where she spent the first few days spending every moment of her free time playing outside with Lottie, the Earthborne demon had followed her teacher's example and sequestered herself inside. The issue was that the Imp had chosen to live out the month in her best friend's room, as according to school rules, students could not share rooms. But the dormitory heating system was rather unreliable, and with the sheer amount of blankets, pillows and stuffed toys that Lottie owned, Cobalt almost didn't blame Quinn for temporarily moving in.

It was certainly better than freezing alone...

"Stop thinking about it..." murmured the Incubus, squeezing his eyes shut.

It was no use. There was something about the cold that wouldn't stop reminding him of that night on his twenty-first birthday. Kneeling in a cold stone cell, unable to move or speak, tears blinding him as the Rite of Maturation was spoken to him, line by agonising line...

Over on his coffee table, the Incubus' phone began to ring, startling Cobalt something fierce. Crawling reluctantly out from beneath the covers, he flipped it open and held it to his ear.

"Nngh... Hello?" he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"I did not wake you, did I, boy?" spoke Mistress Viola.

His entire body prickled, engaging fight-or-flight the moment he heard the cutting edge of her voice. Swallowing hard, he sat down on the table, silently cursing himself for speaking out against her that day.

"N- No, not at all," he answered, shivering.

"Good. You're needed in my office."

"What? Why?"

"Am I to expect regular insubordination from you now?"

He shook his head, despite being alone.

"N- No, it's just-! It's ten at night, miss!" he exclaimed, checking his clock.

On the other end of the line, the Succubus scoffed.

"Enough excuses. Just get over here."

Before Cobalt could respond, the call ended. Snapping his phone shut, he held his head in his hands, shaking all over. This was it, wasn't it? He was getting fired, for real this time. Mistress Viola had given him every chance, and he had completely blown it. He failed to live up to her expectations, he costed her a valuable financial resource, and now he had had a full-blown, point-blank argument with her. Even though he asked her - no, demanded - that she fired him on the spot, the Incubus knew that he had just allowed his emotions to get the better of him.

He loved this job. He needed it.

And now he was going to lose it, on account of his own stupidity...

"Idiot... You idiot..." the Incubus muttered to himself, stopping over to the wardrobe.

Slowly, he slipped out of his nightclothes and began pulling on his work attire, figuring that it would be the last time he would wear it. As he stepped into his trousers and began to pull them up, Cobalt instinctively whipped his head around.

There was no-one at the window.

Why was he expecting someone to be?

"Get it together..."

With his belt buckled and his tie knotted, he pulled on as much winter clothing as he could manage, before finally wrapping Karazelle's scarf carefully around his face. He had worn it every day since she gave it to him, and it still smelled like her.

Catching himself thinking inappropriate thoughts once more, Cobalt swore beneath his breath and grabbed his door handle.

"For the last time... Get it together!"

-----

December days were fiercely cold in Hell, but they were like pleasant summer mornings compared to the nights. Shards of ice travelled on the wind, cutting into Cobalt's face as he tried to brave his way across the B.I.D. campus. The snow had piled up so high that it reached halfway up his calves, soaking the bottom of his trousers and forcing him to trudge through a mire of frozen slush just to get to the front door. Eventually, he succeeded, and after collapsing into the building, he took a moment to stand by a radiator and waited for the feeling to return to his feet.

It was strange to be in the school so long after hours. It was so dark and cold, it reminded him of an abandoned castle; a warren of stone hallways and echoed chambers. Though if the heating was on in this part of the school, that likely meant that somebody was still up working.

He swallowed hard. Of course, he already knew that. The summons of the Headmistress still rang in his ears.

"O- Okay... Let's go..."

Shaking the last of the melting snow off his shoes, the Incubus headed for the stairwell and began the arduous climb to the top floor. With every step he took towards the grand ebony doors of the headmistress' office, the weight in his stomach only grew heavier. This was it, he could feel it. The end of his career.

He turned his miserable gaze onto the inscription above the doorway.

"Meps menmo etiuqniler iuq cuh sitartni..." he murmured to himself.

Abandoning hope as instructed, the Incubus took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles against the office doors.

"Enter," commanded the voice of Mistress Viola.

As his heart began to hammer fearfully, Cobalt slowly opened the door and crept around it.

The electric fire was blazing merrily, filling the long office with comforting warmth. The headmistress herself was seated upon one of the couches that sat before the fireplace, calmly cleaning a half-disassembled hunting revolver. As she raised the gleaming cylinder up to the light, she fixed her gaze upon the Incubus.

"You're here. You've kept us waiting, boy," Mistress Viola announced, slotting it back onto the firearm.

"Us...?" Cobalt breathed, glancing over at the other couch.

Sure enough, they weren't the only demons in the office. A pair of gruff-looking Oni sat there patiently, both dressed in dark suits and heavy winter coats. One of them had a heavily-scarred visage, whilst the other wore an eyepatch that presumably hid an eye that was missing altogether. They both grunted at Cobalt as he nervously approached.

"Um... Hello there."

"These two gentlemen are representatives of a prospective new financier. To replace the one you scared off," Viola continued, snapping the revolver shut and carefully placing it back into a well-maintained holster.

"I- I didn't scare him off, I just..!"

Placing it neatly into a gun case, she closed the lid and shot him an icy glare.

"Regardless of how you put it, it was your actions that caused Charles Brode to withdraw his support. Your actions that lead to these men being here today."

The two Oni chuckled unpleasantly as Cobalt frowned.

"Miss, that's not fair..."

Getting out of her seat, the headmistress carried the case to the back of the office and loudly slammed it down upon her desk.

"You've been awfully fiery lately, boy. I can't say it's doing any good for your record," she sighed, folding her arms.

Fidgeting nervously, the Incubus glanced down at his feet.

"Is... Is this you telling me I'm fired?" he asked, bracing himself for the answer.

"It would make sense for me to do so. Your class is full of failures. Your reckless actions cost the school dearly. And your attitude towards your superiors is simply appalling."

Sitting down in her office chair, Mistress Viola cross her legs and steepled her fingers, eyes locked upon the Incubus.

"... but I won't fire you."

Cobalt blinked a few times, unable to believe the words he had just heard.

"R- Really?" he gasped, looking up at his employer.

"Mm. Against my better judgement, perhaps, but I told you that I owed a debt to your family, didn't I? And I wouldn't wish my debtor to haunt me any more than he already does..."

Cobalt cocked his head, confused by her strange choice of words.

"What...?"

"So instead, I have decided that I could still use you to the school's benefit. Care to hear my proposal?" asked Mistress Viola, rhythmically drumming her fingers.

Though he had managed to hold onto his position by some hellfire-given miricle, the Incubus sensed that he was on his very last chance. Straightening himself up, Cobalt cleared his throat and nodded emphatically. He'd be willing to do anything to get back into the headmistress' good graces.

"Very well. This prospective new financier has proven to be very amenable to our issues, and while it is true that he and I were acquaintances in the past, his generosity stems more from the fact that an important assent belonging to his organisation resides in this school. Do you see where I'm going with this?" explained the Succubus, leaning forward in her chair.

Behind him, Cobalt dimly registered the sound of the two men getting out of their seats.

"I- I think so. But where do I fit into this?" he queried.

"When your name cropped up in our negotiations, he grew keenly interested. Long story short, boy, our new financier wants you."

He stumbled back a little, bumping into the two Oni.

"Me? Why? Who is he?" the Incubus asked, completely bewildered.

The cold eyes of Mistress Viola suddenly flashed dangerously.

"I don't suppose you've heard of Parricidio?"

The Incubus' blood froze right then and there, petrified by the mere mention of that moniker.

There wasn't a soul in the city-state of Brimstone that didn't know of the infamous Parricidio.

He was a fearsome man, head of a clan of crime families, known throughout Hell as the Sulfur Bloods. Everybody knew who they were; ruthless cutthroats who reveled in bloodshed, and had connections spanning across the entire criminal underworld. Nearly every business in the town kicked up to their protection rackets, and while the Sulfur Bloods usually left regular Brimstonites alone, the same could not be said for their enemies. When gang wars erupted, they erupted explosively, and the Sulfur Bloods showed their true faces. For all the drugs, guns and cash that they dealt in, the only thing that seemed to truly satiate them was the hot-blooded act of violence.

And there was none more violent than their leader, Parricidio.

"Y- Y- You're joking, right...?" Cobalt stammered, growing weak at the knees.

He yelped in far as a pair of strong hands suddenly clasped his shoulders.

"Not at all. Oh, and I should probably mention that he doesn't want your services or assistance, boy. He wants you."

Every muscle in Cobalt's body urged him to run; to forsake his job and save his own skin. But that impulse came far too slow. A sturdy, rocklike fist suddenly pounded against the side of his head, shattering his entire world. A swift impact, a sharp flash of pain, and then...

Nothing.