Sourpuss Makes His Move

You're moderately relieved when Sourpuss leads you to a sparse but relatively comfortable room inside the walls that surround the town. On one hand, you're still in the hands of the guards and therefore still in danger. On the other hand, no one's dumped a pot of boiling oil on you yet, and as far as you can see you've been lead to room entirely free of **** equipment. So we're gonna call this net neutral for now.

All in all, this looks like a pretty normal waiting room. Sourpuss motions for you to take a seat at the large table that is it's only real furnishing, folding his hands behind his back as he imperiously inspects himself in a mirror. Frowning, you do so, Duchess guardedly pressing in beside you as Dogsbody remains standing at your shoulder. For a long moment, everyone is quiet. Then the guard breaks the silence. "So. Who are you with. Azmodean? Morax? Not that awful Leviath, I hope."

You blink, very nearly responding that you don't know who or what any of those things are before the information you apparently inherited from your new position fill in the blanks. Demon, Demon, and Demon Known for Being Particularly Smelly. The Bimbo Orb pulses against your leg from within its pouch, but is silent for the moment. Good, better to play this close to the chest for now. It's entirely possible that this is the final test. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Sourpuss turns at that, rolling his eyes so hard that he annoyingly turns his entire head as he sits down at the table. "Oh, don't give me that shit; I'm not a real cop and I'm not an amateur either. You've got some okay power on you; I wouldn't have been sent to scour your room if you hadn't." He leans back in his chair, waving his hand idly. "Most of these backwoods hedgewizards stroll in here with a half rack of potions thinking they're the next Lord of Supreme Darkness. Happy to dump those losers in the trash grinder; keeps the heat off of the rest of us."

He leans forward, poking your chest with a finger. "But the high-ups seem to think you're worth letting in. I don't buy it. You're definitely not in with any of the Big powers, and I don't see anything that would put you as more than a mid-carder at best." He continues to prod your chest, prompting Duchess to huff and your butler to tense almost imperceptibly at your side. "What do you have to say about that?"

You glance down at the finger Sourpuss continues to drill into your chest. It's painfully obvious he's trying to get a rise out of you. "Well. I guess I would say that, if I was really such a powerful whatever, why wouldn't I have used whatever on you, so I could leave?"

Sourpuss rolls his eyes and head again. Fuck this guy. "I didn't say powerful, I said okay. And that would be a really stupid thing to do. That's the whole point of the final entrance test." He hooks a thumb down the neck of his shirt, briefly revealing a dully glinting black pendant. "I'm warded against any external enchantment, moron. The last test is us putting you in a situation where you'll be tempted to use your powers to escape." His sour expression turns unbearably smug. "Though, I mean, you might as well try it. I'm going to tell that lunkhead of a knight-captain you failed the test regardless. You're not super attached to your head, are you? Even if you are, you won't be soon."

He smirks at you expectantly, clearly waiting for you to start begging. He doesn't hide his irritation well when you simply stare back at him. This is clearly the opening overture of a negotiation, and if there is one thing you know it's that He Who Talks First, Loses.

Apparently Sourpuss never heard that old chestnut, because before very long at all he sighs dramatically. "Wellll, I suppose there's a way to avoid all that nastiness. So messy, so unnecessary."

"Oh please. Do tell."

He scowls, but plows on. "Look, you're not going to like it, but I've got all the angles here and I say we don't need any more competition around here. So, if you want to save your head, and your pretty friends' heads, you'll let me drain your source of power, spend the night in the city, and then leave forever."

Duchess furrows her eyebrows, her little pink wheels trying to turn at that as you tilt your head. "And if I do that, you'll let us go?"

Sourpuss's grin is entirely too self-congratulatory. "I mean, I know I sure wouldn't trust me. But it's not like you have another option. You either definitely die, or maybe you don't. You can pick; I'm getting bored."

You hold the ersatz guard's gloating eyes for a moment, and then downcast your gaze to his palpable satisfaction. You can practically see him licking his lips as you pull out the still-silent Orb, its pink and black mists churning ominously as Duchess begins pulling on your shirtsleeve. "Daddy..."

You ignore he for the moment, outstretching the sphere to Sourpuss. "Just...don't do anything to the girls, okay?"

He gives another eyeroll+, laying his hand on top of the Orb. "Seriously? You want to go out on a cliche like that? I expected more, frankly."

There is a sudden burst of ozone as Sourpuss's hand flashes, the mists inside the Orb shuddering before they begin to drain into him. A slow smile of rapture spreads across his face, the first expression you've seen from him beyond irritation and assholery, as the power courses into him. When Duchess speaks up again, however, his face freezes in a rictus of shock. "But Daddy, isn't the demon in that??"

Sourpuss bursts up from his seat, trying to break contact with the Orb, but to his horror finds the thing attached to his palm. All he can manage is a wordless noise of fear as he raises his arm high above his high in last-ditch effort to smash the possessed sphere against something, anything, when the last of the energy inside of it vanishes. The apparent cultist freezes, eyes bugged out as he shudders wordlessly for a long moment.

Then, Sourpuss tightens his mouth as he slips back into his seat, carefully setting down the drained orb before he girlishly crosses his legs and shoots you an annoyed look. "This totally doesn't count. You, like, owe me a hot body."

You can't help but grin at the sound of the Bimbo Demon's huffy coo pouring out from Sourpuss's entirely unsuited face. "Get us through this mess, and I promise I'll get you a body twice as hot as the one I was going to get you before."

The demon-possessed guard's face lights up as he squeals in delight at that, excitedly clapping his hands together. So they think you're a mid-carder, huh? You don't know what exactly is going on in this stupid city, but before the night is out you plan on proving you're main event material.