"Hurry it up, kid. I'd say you walk at the speed of an old granny, but you're currently being outpaced by one."

Stumbling over his own feet, Cobalt nervously trotted after Corris, doing everything in his power to regulate his breathing.

Regardless of what he did to calm himself, however, nothing could stop the violent pounding of his heart. His legs wouldn't stop shaking, and the cold was only partly to blame. No, it was coming face-to-face with the infamous Parricidio that weighed so heavily on the Incubus' mind. A man whose name was synonymous with violence. With death...

"Meeting Lory really freaked you out, did it?"

Cobalt stopped in his tracks and looked up at Corris, who stood a little ways away, arms folded. Gleaning her answer from the look on his face, she sighed and rolled his eyes.

"He's not all that bad, at least not to those he likes. And as he said, you're a guest here for the time being. Count your blessings."

"B- But what does he want from me?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. But seriously, calm down; all your shivering is giving me a headache."

She clucked her tongue.

"I thought you Incubi were supposed to be fearless..." she added, turning on her heel.

His eyes widened.

"W- Wait! You know about us?"

"Us? Don't think there's much of an 'us' when it comes to you blueskins. But yeah, I knew an Incubus once. Was Lory's friend, as a matter of fact," Corris explained, nodding at the clan leader's audience chamber.

"Really?!"

"Mm. Solid guy. Good with his fists. Made violence an art, honestly, but he was of good blood. Helped Lory overthrow his pappy when the time came."

He nodded slowly, taking in the information as calmly as he could. The birth of an Incubus was a several million-to-one chance, so he had simply assumed that he was likely going to be the only one that most people had ever met. But if what Corris said was true, then there was once another Incubus in Brimstone, at least in recent history. But if that was the case, then why had Cobalt never heard about him?

"I never knew..." he murmured, stroking his chin.

The elderly Oni shrugged.

"Go figure. He fell clean of the face of Hell some twenty years ago."

Of course... No matter who he was, no Incubus was safe from their eventual, horrible fate...

"Y- You said he helped overthrow Lorenzo's father?"

"That he did. A lot of us weren't happy with how Lory's pappy ran the place. Man was drunk on power, had a lot of people killed who didn't deserve it. So Lory gathered up some of his friends, stormed the estate and SKKKGGT-"

She drew her finger across her throat.

"- cut his head clean off. That's where he got the moniker. Means, uh... 'kinslayer' in Italian, or something like that," she explained with a grin.

Such information only served to worsen Cobalt's nerves. For a man to cut down his own...

"Um, this Incubus... What was his name?" he asked, desperate to turn the subject away from the topic of bloody murder.

With a heavy sigh, Corris winced and massaged her temples.

"Listen kid, I'm getting on in years, and I can't remember every Tom, Dick and Harry that Lory fraternises with. Now come on; I'm freezing my tits off out here."

Deciding that it would be best not to irritate his guide any further, Cobalt nodded shakily and followed closely behind her. She lead him through the compound, past renovated buildings that he recognised as old Oni smithies, storehouses and dwellings. It would have been a fascinating experience, were it not for the plain fact that he was in the midst of a gangster's headquarters. Everywhere he looked, he could see seedy-looking individuals standing watch over crates of firearms, polishing their weapons, or swapping horrific tales of their underworld exploits.

He was completely out of his depth.

Passing through the garden in the middle of the large central courtyard, he nervously scratched at the collar around his neck. It was too tight, and the electric prongs stuck painfully into the back of his neck.

Noticing his discomfort, Corris sighed.

"Yeah, not my idea, that. Lory didn't want you running, so he called in a favour with one of our contacts. Alice or Allie or something..."

Oh please no...

"Alison...?" he ventured.

Corrie snapped her fingers.

"That's her. Nobody's seen her face to face, but she's fucking weird, lemme tell you."

When - or if - Cobalt managed to get out of this situation alive, he was going to have a long, long talk with Alison Titch about who she involved herself with...

Eventually, after what seemed like an age of wandering through the labyrinthian estate, Corris finally stopped before a large metal trapdoor in the ground, flanked on both sides by submachinegun-toting Sulfur Bloods. They snickered at the sight of the miserable Incubus, but one glare from their boss' advisor was enough to get them to shut up and open the door.

Stepping aside, Corris pointed at the narrow staircase leading underground. From what Cobalt knew of Oni village layouts, typically the kept their torture chambers below surface level.

"After you, kid," she said, patting his back.

He swallowed hard.

"O- Okay..."

-----

Fortunately, the deep underground chamber was no longer used for the imprisonment and torture of the Sulfur Blood clan's enemies. The containment cells had been bulldozed, the stretching racks and breaking wheels removed, and the entire chamber had been renovated and modernised. As Cobalt nervously shuffled down the stairway, he noticed that it had been converted into some kind of bar or common room. Mismatched tables and chairs lay scattered around for the Sulfur Blood grunts to relax on, while an impressively-stocked bar had been set into the far wall. Music pounded from speakers bolted to the walls, and over in a far corner, a fighting ring had been set up, where a pair of Oni were in the middle of beating the tar out of each other, much to the hollered delight of their fellows.

"Don't let the suits and tommyguns fool you, kid; we got a fun side too," Corris called over the thumping music, accepting a bottle of whiskey off one of her underlings.

Directing him over to a pair of chairs by the bar, she glanced at the bottle's label and raised her eyebrows, impressed.

"Nothing but the best liqour since we joined up with the Sixth, huh..."

Though he told himself it was best not to ask, curiosity got the better of Cobalt.

"The what?" he asked, gingerly placing himself upon the chair.

Ripping the cork out with her teeth, his guide poured them both a sizable glass of the amber fluid, despite his objections.

"Well, despite his egomania, Lory's pappy had a head for business. Had his son arranged to marry a daughter of the Sixth Family of New York, up Earthside. I for one didn't think it was gonna work, but I was pleasantly surprised. Lory loves his wife more than life itself, and our two families have been tightly knit ever since," she explained, knocking back the double-measure of whiskey like it was nothing.

She gave Cobalt an expectant glare, urging him to nervously take the glass up in his hands. The vapours from the booze alone was enough to make his head spin. Magically gifted as they were, Lust demons had notoriously weak constitutions, especially when it came to alcohol. But with Corris' gaze burning into him, the Incubus gave in and forced the whiskey down his throat.

It burned hotter than hellfire itself, and almost threatened to make a reappearance as soon as it hit his stomach, but by some miracle, he managed to keep it down. Seemingly amused, Corris grinned and slapped Cobalt's back.

"Got some stones after all, eh? Heh, that's good," she laughed, pouring him another glass.

He nodded shakily, already feeling his senses beginning to fog. Cobalt wasn't one for drinking; he had next to no resistance to alcohol. As the room began to spin, he turned his attention to the combat ring over in the corner. Though his vision was already starting to blur, he could just about make out the two figures wrestling with one another. As the smaller of the two forced their opponent into a headlock, Cobalt noticed that they both appeared to be wearing masks.

"What's with the, um...?" he asked, making vague gestures about his face.

Corris raised an eyebrow as she poured herself a third glass.

"The masks? Some old tradition or other. War faces, I think they're called."

"Oh... I think I remember - ugh - coming across them in my studies."

When it came to battles and tests of strength, Oni took matters very seriously. Three things were worn into battle; their traditional garb, their clan's respective bodypaint, and their own personal war face. A mask - usually made from clay - designed not only to protect the face and horn, but to conceal their identity entirely. After all, Oni considered showing one's face to someone they considered weaker than them to be-

Cobalt's stomach lurched as his head throbbed. All this thinking was beginning to hurt...

"Fuck, she's really going at it tonight. Soon we'll be out of able-bodied soldiers," Corris commented, watching as one bruised Oni was hurled clean out of the ring.

"Is fighting good for morale...?" the Incubus asked, wincing as he clutched his head.

"Sure is. Wanna give it a try?"

"Yeah, sure, why not..." he mumbled absentmindedly.

His eyes widened upon realising what he had just said.

"Wait, no-!"

Before he could react, Corris suddenly grabbed the Incubus' arm and hauled him out of his seat. Though he panicked and flailed, she kept her grip as she dragged him across the booze-soaked floor of the common room towards the ring. Parting the crowd, she raised Cobalt's arm high.

"Got your next challenger right here, sweetheart!" the advisor cackled, shoving him over the ropes.

Clattering to the bloodstained floor of the combat ring, he groaned and unsteadily staggered to his feet, clinging to the ropes to support himself. Before him, his prospective opponent took a tentative step back.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me..." she breathed in a familiar voice.

Rubbing his eyes, Cobalt's vision cleared for a moment as he eyed her up. She was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a short tank top that was heavily stained with the blood of her other opponents. It sound strange to say, but there was something about her flexed biceps that struck a chord with the Incubus, though his mind was a little too addled to put his finger on it.

"S- Sorry?" he murmured, blinking a few times.

Fists clenched, his opponent grabbed her mask and tore it off her face, much to the surprise of all watching. The Incubus staggered back.

"I- Izzbelle?! What are you doing here?!"

Baring her teeth - as she so often did - the Oni wiped the sweat from her brow and spat onto the ground.

"What am I doin' here?! I live here, dumbass; what the fuck are you doin' here?!" she barked, readjusting the boxing tape wound around her hands.

Izzbelle... was a Sulfur Blood...?

Cobalt clutched his head, his face burning up as he grew warmer.

"I- I don't understand..."

Izzbelle - who also appeared to be somewhat intoxicated - released a howl of fury and pulled her mask back on. Pounding her fists together, she dropped into a combative stance.

"Grah! Fuck it! I don't fuckin' care anymore! Let's fuckin' go, dumbass; you and me, right fuckin' now, once and for all!"

"There's really no need to swear so much..."

"Shut the fuck up and raise your damn fists!"

Normally, Cobalt would have done his utmost to deescalate the situation. But the whiskey had gone to his head, and he was no longer thinking straight. Gritting his teeth, he wiped the sweat from his face and sighed.

"Fine... fine! If it gets you to stop challenging me like this, then fine!"

He raised his quivering fists as the Oni all around him laughed amongst themselves.

Their gazes met as Cobalt shook all over, from his head to his tail.

"E- En garde!"