[ WP ] It is discovered that Possession works both ways and now we can have some payback . Demons of the underworld are now suffering under multiple cases of Humanic Possession .

It was the way the man had walked that had at first worried the officer. His limbs swiveled swiftly and naturally in a motion almost pleasing to watch for its gracefulness. Not at all like the exerted efforts of the damned. He walked with purpose, his head held low to avoid suspicion yet still finding the time to look up every few minutes to observe his surroundings in a curious way that a true denizen of Hell would never do. Their eyes remained well planted for Hell had no viewing joys, not even the most miniscule. The officer had been following him for several hours now, trying to confirm his suspicion before he made the arrest. Not that a wrong accusation and a few minutes of painful discomfort would be looked down upon by Lucifer ( after all, evil is petty ), but their lord required an accurate, almost greedy, count of his souls. Why, he wasn ’ t quite sure as Hell had plenty more than the upstairs variant which made a few here and there rather meaningless in his opinion but last time he had mentioned it he had went a decade without legs, something he wasn ’ t particularly eager to experience again. The officer sighed and continued to follow the man. 
 
 The scorching red pavement, like fiery molten bone ripe with the screaming faces of those sworn to a punishment far more industrial than most, burned the officers feet just slightly. He had been here a millennia, but no one ever got used to the pain, only learned to hide their responses. Still, he was better off than most. He had been brought in on a minor charge ( apparently the way he treated his wife didn ’ t quite line up with the punishment of Eve ’ s line ) and it had only been a few centuries before he had been able to procure a job as a law enforcement official, an elite among Hell only just below lawyers, politicians, and dental workers. From that point on it had been easy sailing, all things considered. The crime rate in Hell was minimum, with most things being legal so long as everyone suffered, and at worst he had only been required to file a few tickets against those who took the parking spot for Satan ’ s Camaro, or the occasional brave idiot who decided to steal his old fiddle and ended up his new one. He had even reconnected with his wife and made a few friends in the force, as hard as it was to believe. It wasn ’ t heaven but it was a good life. Then the humans came. For as long as the demons of Hell had warred against the angels of Heaven there had been certain understood rules, powers that each faction could command. The angels had joy, the demons had grief. The angels had love, the demons had lust. The angels had suggestion, the demons had possession. No one was really sure how Lucifer had commanded such a power from an all-mighty God, who with any flick of an ethereal finger should have forced Satan straight into non-existence, but somehow he had, and even the angels feared him for it. And so every time a particularly evil human was in a position of power, a special demon was chosen to possess his soul. It would come as the human slept in the comforting folds of the night. To him it would manifest itself as a nightmare, starting off minor and then making its way down into the true depths of terror that only one from the deep could ever know. At first the human may think he was falling from an indescribable height. He ’ d wake up in sweats, maybe piss in his bed if the demon was lucky. The next night would be the same. After a week he ’ d start drowning instead, the water filling his weak mortal lungs so that even the joy of a final scream would be taken from him. But then he ’ d wake and he ’ d know it was all just a dream. And so the demon slowly rooted itself inside of him, a dark essence stabbing itself into the cavity of his black heart and sucking on the cycles of his fear. One night he ’ d wake to find he was still drowning. And after that he never stopped. The demon then had free range to do with his body what he will, until the motors run dry, so to speak. The human would never recover, not even in hell, their screaming souls lining the pavement. Depending on how long the human was able to last during this transition the results could range from Jeffrey Dahmer to Hitler. It was a fun service, and the only true relief from Hell available to a demon, so they all strived for it. Waiting for the moment when they would finally be picked to posses a human soul. But unfortunately the tables how now turned. No one was sure how, but the humans had figured out how to reverse the process, and possess a demon instead. It had started with Beelzebub. A routine mission to posses the body of a viral scientist had gone horribly wrong, and Beelzebub had come back different somehow. He was not the same person. Gone was his dark aura that had before sent younger, timid souls running. Satan had examined the body closely and found a human soul inside. The ghosts of Hell were aghast, and had it not been for Lucifer ’ s natural charisma all of Hell might have broken loose pounding against the black iron gates. In the end the Devil had been forced to dissipate the trespassing soul ( as it was not destined for here, and he had no power over it ), but to his horror Beelzebub had not come back. His body was still on that street, empty and cold. It was the first time that Lucifer had ever cried. From then on all possessors were called back in an effort to contain the human infection and for a while everything was fine. And then they started coming in anyway. Against logic, against nature. Satan was in a fit. Random demons fell victim to possession. Succubous mothers cried to their wretched spawn at night, every moment fearing what they believed inevitable, a mother and a child to be separated even in Hell, a fate too horrible even for the god of this Earth. The only one safe was Lucifer. God loved his plaything and wouldn ’ t let harm become him, and everyone in Hell ( minus Satan that is ) knew it. Since then the cops life had been rough. 
 
 The man he had been following finally stopped. They were on the edge of purgatory, where the sea of nothingness, the fires of damnation, and the golden stairway converged on a single point, only the black iron gate separating the damned from the blessed and the unbaptized. The man fell unto the gates and began to cry. The officer had seen enough. He walked towards the man and prepared to arrest him. The man looked towards him, his fiery blue-grey eyes screaming in desperation. 
 
 “ No, you can ’ t! Not Yet! I almost had it! ” 
 
 He was speaking nonsense. The officer reached for the pair of handcuffs in his back pocket. Satan could deal with him personally, maybe interrogate him if possible, he liked to handle these things himself. 
 
 “ No please, hear me out! You have to warn them. It all depends on them! Please ” 
 
 The man was obviously hysterical, but the officer was intrigued. He stooped down and, against his better judgement, began to talk to him. 
 
 “ What does? Who does what depend on? ” 
 
 “ Uh... the gates…key... toxic. ” 
 
 This was obviously going nowhere, and the officer was starting to become annoyed. He bent down closer to try and comfort the man, to maybe make some sense of him, but as he did he noticed something familiar about him. That face. The way the beard grew slightly outward at the sides, the blue-grey eyes. How hadn ’ t he noticed before? That was Steven, his partner in the force. That was his friend. Was. For his entire duration in Hell, even before he could find his wife, he had been friends with Steven. They had meet in the academy. Steven had apparently died wearing an AC/DC shirt, and he had teased him endlessly. They had been friends for centuries, longer than he had ever known anyone. Longer than his entire mortal life. And now he was gone. A nonexistent being, whom even God wouldn ’ t bother with. There was no after the after-life. He would never see him again. With the seeming immortality of Hell ’ s guests it was something he had never experienced. On Earth he had known that all would die eventually, but here he had planned on being with them forever. And who was next? The other cops? His wife? In the night the humans would take them, and they ’ d dissipate into nothing. And they didn ’ t even care. He wanted to throw up. 
 
 ‘ You... you bastard. “ The officer began to cry. The human fell back in obvious confusion. 
 
 “ I... what? ” 
 
 “ You bastard! ” The officer jumped on the man and began pounding his fists into his skull until the blood splatterd upwards. He had to remind himself that it wasn ’ t his friend he was hitting. It was his friends killer. The bastard who had reduced him to nothing. To an empty shell possesed by a mortal ghost. It didn ’ t matter that this one man could do no more harm. It was what he represented. All the uncertainty, the pain, the grief. He was one of his kind, and every one of his kind was him. 
 
 “ Plea..se… sto..p… beff… too…. late. ” The man fell back unconscious. The cop wasn ’ t really sure if he could be killed or not at first. If the mortal soul would dictate the immortal shells fate, but it would seem so. The cop knew the man was dead. He fell back, his head in his hands and continued to cry. He hated his life. He hated this place. And worst of all he hated humanity.
