Hell would usually wake up with a bang, but today somehow seemed like it was going to be a little less messy than usual. Chris came out of his room, stretched, and listened to the muffled sounds of the city from outside the palace. There were still screams, something breaking, and the usual noise of people shouting, but compared to other days, it almost felt like there was a little bit of quiet.
While going down the hallway, Chris could hear the voices from the living room. His "power team" was already at it again. Two demons were arguing over who started the fight last night, even though both of them were clearly responsible. One tried to hit, missed, and smashed hard into a cabinet. Another grabbed a broken bottle and waved it in the air like proof he was right. Somebody got shoved into a table, which then broke in half.
The situation was not serious; it was just stupid Hell drama.
Chris intervened, looked at them, and the place became quiet. They apologized under their breath and retreated. He didn't give them the lecture. He didn't mind as long as there were no deaths on the rug.
Outside, the streets were full of Hell-style trouble. A demon flew out of a window across the street, and upon landing, he immediately started yelling at the guy who threw him. Two more were wrestling on the ground and rolling between the vendors, who didn't even glance up. A truck turned sharply, clipped a demon's leg, and the guy stood up, cursing at the driver as if nothing had happened.
That was the kind of violence Hell understood: risky, foolish, but almost normal.
Chris strolled through the market area, nodding at a few demons who had the sense to respect him and not start anything. One vendor, fork in hand, stabbed a thief in the shoulder, took back his stolen apples, and shoved the thief down the street. The thief staggered away, annoyed but alive. Business went on.
He bought a small item from a vendor and continued walking. Two merchants were whispering about visitors checking the area, something about Camilla's daughters coming over. Chris didn't focus on that. People always showed up for silly reasons. If they weren't threatening his territory, he wasn't going to spend energy on them. Still, the information sat in the back of his mind. Not important yet.
He found a quiet spot next to a broken fountain where the noise of the city was minimal. Nearby, demons argued, someone fired a gun twice, and a distant explosion rattled a sign, but compared to the usual madness, it felt calm enough.
Chris sat down and ate slowly. He didn't get caught up in trauma or deep memories; simple thoughts drifted in and out. He remembered little things from Earth, boring things, normal things, and compared them to the chaos around him. He wasn't sad. He was just thinking.
One of his crew ran up to him with news of another fight in the southern area. Two fools were swinging metal pipes at each other over a late payment. Chris told him to stop it before it escalated. The demon agreed and ran off.
This was his life now. Not peaceful. Not clean. Not exactly relaxing.
But for Hell? This was everyday life.
Before he left, the market got louder. Voices rose, arguments flared, fights broke out, and someone got hit with a chair. Another demon laughed hysterically at the chaos. Chris shook his head and left them to it.
It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't quiet.
But it was normal for Hell.
And that was enough.