The Devil's Plaything

The room was silent for exactly three seconds.

Then all hell broke loose, literally.

The demon struck first, hurling a table across the room with one hand like it was made of cardboard. The priest dodged it with a single, lazy step to the side. His robes barely moved.

"Oh, we're doing this now?" the priest muttered, cracking his neck.

The demon's eyes burned gold, his face twisting into something monstrous. Horns rippled up through his scalp. His nails stretched into claws. He hissed, "You really think your little charm can stop me?"

The priest answered by hurling the crucifix. It hit the demon dead in the chest, flashing with a light so bright it painted the walls with shadows. The demon screamed, not from pain, but from annoyance.

"That tickled," he snarled, flicking the cross away.

The priest stepped forward, calmly retrieving it from the floor. "Glad you're warmed up."

The demon charged, claws out. But the priest caught his wrist mid-air and twisted, bones cracked like dry twigs. Then came a gut-punch so hard the demon coughed up smoke. Literal, black, sulfur-smelling smoke.

"You fight dirty," the demon wheezed, stumbling back.

"I'm a priest in a brothel," he said. "Morals are already loose."

Then he moved fast, too fast. One moment, he was in front of the demon. The next, behind him, whispering scripture directly into his pointed ear.

The demon spun, slashing wildly, but the priest ducked and slammed his palm into the demon's abs. The impact knocked the creature into the wall, cracking it down the middle.

"Didn't expect holy kung fu, huh?" the priest said, panting a bit now.

The demon roared, leapt from the rubble, and vanished mid-air. For a second, there was nothing.

Then the lights blew out.

A chill swept through the room. The demon reappeared behind the priest, fangs bared.

"Peek-a-boo."

"Peek-a-you," he said, and stabbed the demon in the heart with it.

The scream was like a thousand bats screaming through a megaphone. The demon's body convulsed, thrashing as light poured from his mouth, eyes, and chest.

He fell to his knees.

Smoke curled from his wounds, and for a moment, the fight seemed over.

But the demon looked up, grinning weakly. "You don't have the balls to finish me, preacher.""You're right," he whispered. "I've got holy balls."

The priest walked over, kneeled slowly beside him, and lifted the silver crucifix, now stained with blood.

Without breaking eye contact, he licked the blood off the edge.

"Just wanted to make sure it wasn't mine," he said casually. "Tastes like sulfur and poor decisions. Definitely yours."

The demon wheezed a laugh, coughing. "You... you really are insane."

The priest stood. "No. Just really tired of evil monologues."

He turned, walked to the door, and paused.

"Send my regards to Hell," he said over his shoulder.

And then he stood, turned, and walked out, leaving the demon writhing on the floor, smoking, twitching, and deeply reconsidering his life choices.

Outside the back room, the brothel had gone dead quiet.

No music. No chatter.

Just stunned silence.

The priest adjusted his collar, looked around, and nodded once.

"Confession starts early tonight," he said. "Line up if you're feeling lucky."Then he walked into the night, leaving nothing behind but the smell of smoke , a bleeding cross,

a battered demon and a room that would never quite be clean again.