There was a dry storm brewing, and everyone in Brimstone could feel it. The sudden rise in temperature, the overcast sky, the rumbling and flashes in the distance clouds... Summertime in Hell was a strange phenomenon; equal parts beautiful and inhospitable, and dry storms were the pinnacle of both. Wonderful meteorological events to witness from the safety of one's home, and not outside where the hot wind cuts through you and lightning falls in place of rain.

Cobalt pondered all of this as he stared out one of the classroom's windows, completely numb to everything around him. Again and again he told himself that he wasn't going to worry himself about anything unrelated to school anymore, and yet when he sat himself down at the teacher's desk, he just couldn't focus. His hearing would fade out, his vision would blur and the back of his throat would get incredibly dry.

There was something bad coming, and the storm was just the beginning.

Ahead of him, his students were busy with their own tasks. Some just sat on their phones or idly doodled in the books, but it seemed like a fair few of them were actually doing the revision work that Cobalt had set for them. With the end of year exams coming up, it seemed like everybody caught on to the fact that repeating a year was a very real threat. Even Quinn was buckling down, helping Lottie with her Language work just as she had promised. Likewise, Jelli was helping Izzbelle and Karazelle with their upcoming final assignments, and though she was acting aloof around her purple-skinned companion, Whitney was helping here and there too.

As for Arnn... He asked to go to the bathroom at the start of the class, and hadn't returned since, though Cobalt wasn't about to pry as to why that was.

Indeed, it seemed like most of his class had finally accepted him as a teacher. The ones that still didn't respect him, well... He always had next year.

A small smile flickered across Cobalt's face.

Enough with the doom and gloom; he was happy to see them all working so diligently. To sit at the head of a classroom, surrounding by hardworking students... how long had he dreamt of this? It felt like forever, but when Cobalt actually thought back on his dreams and aspirations, he just couldn't quite put his finger on when he first decided to become a teacher.

He frowned. Was it even his idea to become one...?

Shaking his head, the Incubus pulled out his pen and began fiddling with the ink cartridge, clicking it in and out again as he twirled the cap around and around.

He had to stop getting caught up in his thoughts. Nothing good would come of it.

The Incubus' phone began to silently ring within his pocket. Frowning, he quietly apologised to his students and turned away as he flicked it open.

"Hello?"

"Bluebell, you got a second? I, um... I decrypted them files you wanted," spoke the voice of Alison, sounding strangely unsure of herself.

Lowering his voice, Cobalt turned his back to his studying students.

"Alison, listen... I've been thinking a lot lately, and... I don't want to know. I just want to live a peaceful life, and this whole Damned Defense and Hellhound business is just... not conducive to that," he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"No, you're gonna want to hear this, trust me!"

"Alison, I just told you that I don't! I don't care about this Diate stuff anymore! I- I don't care what he does to me, I just want-!"

"TRAYER!"

He cut himself off and brought the phone close to his face.

"... What?" breathed Cobalt.

He heard Alison take a shaky breath. Something was off about how she was speaking. She sounded almost scared.

"The Hellhound. His full name..."

She took another breath, this one shakier than the last.

"... was Brass Atticus Trayer."

Alison kept talking. She went on to explain who he was, how he managed to do what he did, and ultimately, what it took for him to lay a Devil low. She told Cobalt about the attack on Brimstone by an otherworldly being named Diate, and how despite the town's best efforts, they were completely at his mercy. She detailed just how the city state's governing bodies decided to cover the whole thing up to save face and erase both Brass and the Damned Defense from recorded history.

But he heard nothing, for the phone had already slipped from Cobalt's hand and clattered to the linoleum floor.

Getting out of his seat, Cobalt began to walk towards the door, much to the confusion of his students.

"Sir? What's wrong?" asked Karazelle, looking up from her work.

He stopped and stared at the floor for a moment, his heartbeat hammering in his eardrums.

"Karazelle, you're in charge until I get back," Cobalt said simply, reaching forward to open the door.

"Huh? Why, where are you going?"

"... Just stay here."

As he stepped out into the hallway, he replayed that name over and over in his head.

Brass Atticus Trayer.

He thought of his own name.

Cobalt Atticus Trayer.

A black hand clasped around his shoulder.

"Something has upset you, my love. What is the matter?" asked Elya, having just stepped out of her infirmary.

Shaking his head, Cobalt brushed her off and continued towards the school's exit.

"Nothing. Just keep an eye on my class."

His footsteps echoed off the stairwell walls, and yet he couldn't hear them.

Brass Atticus Trayer.

The receptionist called his name as he stepped outside, but he ignored their cries.

Cobalt Atticus Trayer.

He set his sights on the school gates.

He forgot what he promised, about focusing just on his career.

He needed answers.

The sky rumbled as Cobalt left the campus.

Now.

-----

A couple dozen Sulfur Bloods stood lined up in front of several black SUVs, their registration panels ripped off and their windows tinted. Thompson submachineguns lay stacked in crates alongside boxes of ammunition. Aluminium baseball bats and iron chains had been loaded into the cars just in case.

The gangsters were all silent, each staring at the dirt beneath their feet as their boss slowly paced back and forth across the dusty road. Up above, the sky was starting to churn; a dry storm, no doubt.

"Each and every one of you is a fuck up, you know that?!" Lorenzo called over the rising winds, his hands clasped behind his back.

His men just lowered their heads further.

"All of you have let me down in one way or another, and while I'd usually have you repent in a much bloodier fashion, I've been forced to rely upon you once more!"

The Oni narrowed his eyes.

"But make no mistake. This is a suicide mission, one way or another. And you lot better march headfirst into the fray with steely fuckin' eyes, because if even one of you cocksuckers turns tail, then all of you and your families are gonna suffer for it. Do you understand me?!" Parracidio barked.

"Yes boss!" the Oni all responded, thumping their fists against their chests.

"Good. You'll be followin' the command of Diate, and not a single one of your are gonna complain. And remember; regardless of whether you come back from this, you are all dead to the Sulfur Bloods."

With that final hissed statement, the Oni turned on his heel and marched a little way down the road, towards the crest of a hill. Up ahead, he could see the enshrouded figure of Diate standing with his arms folded. The iron horns hung from his belt, clinking in the wind.

"They're yours to command. From here on, I've got nothin' to do with this," he muttered.

Diate glanced back, his red eyes glowing in the gloom of his hood.

"Oh Lorenzo, don't you want to stay and watch, even from afar? I promise, it'll be delicious!" the Devil laughed, rubbing his gloved hands.

"I just said I want nothin' more to do with this."

"Ah, of course. You're only in this for revenge."

Scowling, Lorenzo looked down at the scar spanning the circumference of his trigger finger.

"... Nngh. Honour codes demand it. Doesn't mean I want any part of your bullshit."

Diate scoffed and turned back around. From their perch at the top of the hill, they could see the entirety of Brimstone spread out before them like a map. The Devil pointed at the looming shadows of the Brimstone Institute of Demonics and sighed.

"I always liked the architecture of that place. Very reminiscent of my home," he remarked.

"What, that shithole called Damnation?"

"... No. I speak of the kingdom I used to be a part of. It was called Dis, and it was wonderful. A nation of creative geniuses; all Devils serving beneath our lord Satan. It was a true utopia."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.

"Never heard of it," he scowled.

"Of course not. First the Rapture struck, wiping out half of our number. Then the Oni battlesisters lead their little revolution, rousing the lesser demons against us. And finally, Lady Fesser set her ferals loose in the streets of Dis and assaulted our Tempered Bastions the world over, driving us out of Hell and down into the dank depths of Damnation. Ancient history, forgotten by all but us."

The Devil began to pace back and forth, never once taking his eyes off the town. The clouds above began to darken.

"I wanted to take it back. To rebuild Dis and reclaim my people's honour. But my lord Satan was broken by it all, and refused to even consider my proposal. He cast me out, so I deigned to grow stronger and take Hell back by myself. Twenty-two years ago I made my attempt, and I suffered for it."

"Good," Lorenzo spat.

Though he couldn't see into his hood, he knew that Diate was smiling.

"It was , wasn't it? A battle for the ages. As much as I cursed his name, Brass truly did teach me a thing or two about ambitions. These days, all I long for is the simple taste of revenge. But alas, he is not here..."

A flash of lightning from the sky briefly illuminated the Devil's hood, allowing the Oni to see the shining teeth within.

"... so I shall just have to vent my frustrations on his next of kin!"

Swallowing hard, Lorenzo balled his fists and urged himself to be strong.

"... Do what you must. Just know this; if I ever see your face again, I will kill you. That's a promise."

He turned to leave, only for Diate to laugh once more.

"Of course, of course! Thank you ever so much for your hospitality, Mr. Suyas! If Brass were here today, I'm sure he'd be delighted to learn what you've done to help me!" the Devil jeered.

The mob boss bit his lip and reached for his gun, but he did not draw it. He exhaled deeply, allowed all the tension to leave his body, and he kept on walking.

Behind him, Lorenzo could hear the mad Devil shouting into the wind.

"PREPARE YOURSELF, TRAYER! I HAVE COME TO FINALLY TAKE THE VENGENCE I'M OWED!"