When the "Die Dämonin" walks into a pub - Mephistopheles vs Vivi
Posted: Tue May 26, 2026 11:29 pm
It was a quiet night. Too quiet for the Prince of Hell, but not by much, because tonight he was looking for a challenge, a test to put himself. Dressed in a trench coat and a top hat to blend in, illuminated only by the streetlights and the moonlight, he walked through the city late at night. He was alone, without any of his companions, because this was one of his “escapades” in search of chaos and to spread his message: a message that no one dared to deliver. Without drawing attention to himself, he was looking for a Pud, a Pud for villains, a place where he could unleash chaos to his heart’s content. He had heard rumors that every hero who entered didn’t end well, but the difference in his case was that he wasn’t a hero; he was a demon. The worst of them, to be exact.
He finally found it; he had to admit that its design was quite nice, like any self-respecting English pub. He was able to walk in without any trouble and without drawing attention. He went straight to the bar to sit down and order a drink. to be specific, he’d order a beer, the strongest one they had. It didn’t take long to get it; he drank half of it only to spit it into the air, splashing the table and other patrons. “PLEASE, you call this a strong beer? I’m drinking tap water that tastes better than this stuff, and you want me to pay for this crap? Don’t fuck with me.I even feel like they should be paying me to drink this swill” With those aggressive words and their mocking and unfiltered behavior, he’s trying to get attention and attract a certain type of person, and if everything went according to plan, he’d be able to prove a point.
He finally found it; he had to admit that its design was quite nice, like any self-respecting English pub. He was able to walk in without any trouble and without drawing attention. He went straight to the bar to sit down and order a drink. to be specific, he’d order a beer, the strongest one they had. It didn’t take long to get it; he drank half of it only to spit it into the air, splashing the table and other patrons. “PLEASE, you call this a strong beer? I’m drinking tap water that tastes better than this stuff, and you want me to pay for this crap? Don’t fuck with me.I even feel like they should be paying me to drink this swill” With those aggressive words and their mocking and unfiltered behavior, he’s trying to get attention and attract a certain type of person, and if everything went according to plan, he’d be able to prove a point.