The evening air was crisp as we arrived at the five-star hotel, its grand facade glowing under golden lights like a beacon of opulence. Kai—the billionaire boss, still in his stolen human form—had booked the entire top-floor private dining room for "family introductions," a space reserved for the elite with crystal chandeliers, velvet drapes, and a long mahogany table set for seven. We stepped out of the elevator into a hushed corridor, the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers masking the tension simmering beneath our polite smiles. My "mother" walked beside me in a sleek red dress that hugged her curves, her hand lightly on my arm; my "big sister" trailed just behind, her black cocktail gown whispering against her legs, eyes already darting with that possessive gleam she'd worn since her "return." Opposite us, as we entered the room, sat Kai's "family": his elegant wife in a pearl necklace and emerald gown, radiating quiet sophistication, and his two daughters—both in their late teens, one with cascading dark hair in a silver dress, the other with a bob cut in deep blue, giggling softly as they adjusted their napkins. We exchanged nods, the air thick with false warmth: "Pleased to meet you," "What a lovely evening," handshakes firm but fleeting. Servers in crisp uniforms glided in like ghosts, placing plates of foie gras appetizers, seared scallops, and glasses of vintage Bordeaux before vanishing without a word. We began eating in measured bites, small talk flowing like the wine—compliments on the food, light questions about careers and hobbies—while under the table, my "sister's" foot brushed mine, a subtle reminder of the morning's games. But then, one by one, the women faltered: my "mother" mid-sentence about her "business trip," her fork clattering; my "sister" with a soft sigh, slumping forward; Kai's wife excusing herself for a "headache" that never eased; his daughters yawning unnaturally, heads dropping to the table. The drugged wine had worked flawlessly, their bodies limp in seconds, breaths steady but unconscious.
Kai and I—Ace—finished our meals in silence, savoring the last bites like victors at a feast. He waved a hand casually toward the door, summoning his discreet team: four burly men in dark suits who entered without fanfare, wheeling in padded gurneys. They lifted the women one by one with clinical efficiency—first Kai's wife, her pearl necklace shifting as they draped a sheet over her; then his daughters, their youthful faces slack in forced sleep; my "mother" and "sister" last, their dresses rumpled as they were strapped down for transport. "Take them home," Kai ordered softly. "Make sure they wake up rested, with no memories but sweet dreams." The men nodded and wheeled them out, leaving the room eerily empty except for the half-eaten plates and the faint echo of their footsteps.
We rode the elevator to the penthouse in companionable quiet, the ascent smooth as silk. The doors parted to reveal a dimly lit suite transformed into a makeshift prison: two men chained to exposed beams in the center, their wrists raw from struggling, faces bruised from earlier "persuasion." One was the original owner of my host body—a scrawny college kid in his twenties, eyes wild with exhaustion; the other, Kai's former vessel, a middle-aged failure with a paunch and receding hairline, trembling in his restraints. I grabbed a pitcher of ice water from the side table and splashed it across their faces in twin arcs, the cold shock jolting them awake with gasps and coughs. Their eyes focused on us, recognition dawning like a nightmare, and they roared in unison: "What did you do to my mother and sister?!" the kid screamed, veins bulging in his neck. "What have you done to my wife and daughters?!" the older man bellowed, chains rattling as he lunged futilely forward, his face twisting in rage and terror.
We stood there, unmoved, letting their fury crash against our silence like waves on stone. I pulled out my phone slowly, deliberately, thumbing through the gallery with a bored flick. The screen lit their faces as I held it up, hitting play on the first video: grainy but clear footage of "me" pounding into their "mother/sister/wife" on the sofa, her moans filling the speakers—"Yes, baby, fill Mommy!"—her legs wrapped around "my" waist. The kid's face crumpled first, a sob escaping as tears streamed down; the older man gagged, turning away only to snap back, horrified fascination pulling him in. The next clip: "Kai" with both daughters in a lavish bedroom, one riding him while the other licked his balls, their voices breathy—"Daddy, we love you so much!"—cum dripping everywhere. The men broke then, fully: the kid collapsed against his chains, wailing like a child, "No, no, please, that's my family!"; the older one retched dryly, then begged in a shattered whisper, "You monsters... why? They're innocent!" Snot and tears mixed on their chins, bodies shaking with despair, the room echoing with their pleas—"Fix it, I'll do anything, just make it stop!"
Kai laughed first, a low, demonic rumble that chilled even the air. "Who we are doesn't matter," he said, stepping closer, his eyes flickering with unholy glee. "What we want? Everything. Your startup's gaming code—the algorithms that could control digital economies. Every penny in your hidden accounts. Sign it over, or..." He paused, leaning in until his breath brushed their faces. "We wake them tomorrow, play these videos on loop. Watch their worlds shatter. The betrayal in their eyes when they realize 'son' and 'father' destroyed them from the inside." I joined in, my voice cold as steel: "Imagine the cries. The despair. Suicide notes blaming themselves for trusting you." The kid hyperventilated, clawing at his own chest; the older man pissed himself, the stain spreading dark on his pants, mumbling "Please... God, no..." We didn't flinch, didn't offer mercy—just watched their spirits crack like glass under a hammer, extracting codes, keys, and signatures with the precision of surgeons. By the end, they were hollow shells, nodding blankly as we unchained them, promising oblivion if they behaved.
We left them there, stepping into the night, the hotel's glow fading behind us as we slid into the waiting car. Kai snapped his fingers mid-drive, the illusion shattering: our borrowed bodies melted away, revealing our true forms—two twenty-year-old demons, handsome as sin with sharp features, flawless skin, and eyes that burned with infernal fire. "Next stop?" I asked, adrenaline still buzzing. Kai nodded, grinning like the devil he was. "Supernatural Headquarters base. Time to cash in." The engine roared, carrying us into the shadows where humans were just playthings, and the real game was about to begin
The car rolled to a smooth stop in the cavernous underground parking garage of what looked, from the outside, like an ordinary high-end shopping mall in the heart of the city. Neon signs for luxury brands glowed faintly above us, but the place was deserted at this hour—no security patrols, no late-night shoppers. We stepped out, shoes echoing on polished concrete, and walked straight into the 24-hour supermarket on the ground floor. Rows of instant noodles, energy drinks, and imported snacks lined the shelves under harsh fluorescent lights. A lone cashier glanced up, saw our faces, and immediately dropped his gaze—no one here was paid enough to question demons on official business.
We moved deeper, past the frozen-food section, until we reached what looked like a simple service elevator marked "Employees Only." Kai pressed his palm against a hidden sigil etched into the metal wall. The panel glowed crimson for a split second, then the doors slid open with a soft hiss. Inside, the elevator was matte black, no buttons, just a single retinal scanner. I leaned in; it recognized me instantly. The descent began—slow at first, then faster, the digital floor counter racing past -10, -20, -50 until it simply read: ███████.
Kai leaned against the wall, replaying one of the hotel torture clips on his phone, smirking.
"Not bad, bro. The way the older one pissed himself? Art."
I shrugged, grinning. "You weren't exactly gentle with the daughters either. Solid teamwork."
He waved it off like it was nothing. "Just another Tuesday."
The doors opened into the true Supernatural Headquarters: a sprawling underground city carved out of obsidian and steel. Vaulted ceilings dripped with bioluminescent vines, holographic displays floated in mid-air showing global ley-line activity, and dozens of agents—some in human glamour, others in their true forms (horns, wings, tails, extra eyes)—hurried past with tablets and grimoires. The air smelled faintly of ozone, blood, and expensive coffee.
A young succubus in a sharp blazer jogged up to us, heels clicking.
"Chief's waiting. Job well done, by the way—seriously excellent work, you two."
We both gave lazy nods like it was routine and followed her down a corridor lined with one-way glass cells (inside, various captured angels, yokai, and rogue mages floated in stasis).
The conference room doors parted automatically. At the head of the obsidian table sat the Chief.
Her name: Lilith Velloria de Ravenholt.
Even seated, her presence was suffocating. Midnight-black hair cascaded in perfect waves down to her waist, framing a face that could launch a thousand wars and end them just as quickly. Crimson eyes, sharp enough to cut souls. A tailored charcoal blazer did nothing to hide the obscene hourglass figure beneath—breasts straining against silk, hips and ass that made the chair look like a throne built just for her. Sheer black stockings and garter belts peeked beneath the table, ending in six-inch stilettos that could probably sign a death warrant on their own. A single obsidian horn curved elegantly from her left temple—the mark of the First Circle.
She didn't look up from the holographic files floating above the table.
"Sit."
We dropped into the chairs opposite two other agents.
Left: Seraphine "Sera" Frostborn—ice supernatural, mid-twenties, long platinum hair like frozen moonlight, eyes the pale blue of glacial cores. Beauty so cold it burned.
Right: her younger brother, Riven Frostborn—water supernatural, barely twenty, softer features, sea-green eyes, but the same lethal calm.
Sera inclined her head. "Congratulations on mission completion."
Riven echoed the nod. "Clean execution."
Lilith finally glanced up, crimson gaze pinning us like insects.
"Report."
I leaned forward. "Targets broken. Codes and funds transferred. Emotional triggers planted. Awakening expected within six hours."
She gave a single, satisfied nod and returned to her files.
I couldn't help myself. "Chief… why are we doing this? Turning humans into weapons, farming despair like it's currency—what's the endgame?"
She didn't even blink.
"Classified."
I exhaled through my nose, frustration crackling under my skin.
Kai patted my shoulder. "Relax, man. You'll know when you need to."
He gestured to the massive wall screen cycling live news feeds.
The headline flashed in scarlet:
BREAKING: FIVE-STAR LUXURY HOTEL ENGULFED IN MYSTERIOUS INFERNO—ENTIRE STRUCTURE CONSUMED BY UNNATURAL HELLFIRE
Drone footage showed the once-glittering tower now a roaring column of black and crimson flames that no water could touch. Two figures stood on the roof, silhouettes wreathed in demonic fire, faces unrecognizable but screaming one word into the night: "WHY?!"
Lilith's lips curved—almost proud.
"Frostborn siblings—your mission just went live. Contain the blaze, extract the newborns before the human authorities notice the supernatural signature. Go."
Sera and Riven were already standing, frost and mist swirling around them.
"Understood, Chief."
They vanished in a swirl of snow and seawater.
I stared at the burning hotel, the pieces clicking into place and still not making sense.
"Chief," I tried again, voice rough, "for the love of the Nine Hells, why are we doing this?"
She finally looked up, crimson eyes glowing like twin suns.
"Still classified."
I slumped back, defeated.
Kai just shrugged beside me.
"No idea, bro. Guess we keep following orders until the curtain drops."
On screen, the inferno roared higher, two new demons born from grief and betrayal shrieking their first war-cries into a world that would never be ready for what we'd just unleashed.
And somewhere deep below the city, Lilith Velloria de Ravenholt smiled like a queen who already knew how the story ended.