Welcome to undercity

Chapter One: The Food Truck of Doom

PAGE 1

Milo Carter had two talents in life: being right and being loud about it. Unfortunately, he was wrong about the brakes.

The food truck rolled downhill like it had personal beef with gravity. Tessa clung to the passenger-side door, screaming words that would absolutely get censored on daytime television. Milo was still arguing about who forgot to check the brake line, as if physics might pause out of respect.

"YOU said it was fine!" Tessa shouted.

"It WAS fine!" Milo shouted back. "It just... aggressively stopped being fine!"

The truck hit a bump. Time slowed. Somewhere in the distance, a man dropped his churro in dramatic slow motion.

Then black.

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PAGE 2

Milo opened his eyes expecting pain.

Instead, he saw neon.

Red light flooded a skyline that looked like Gotham City had a nightclub addiction. Skyscrapers curved like horns. Billboards flickered with slogans like "REGRET RESPONSIBLY" and "TRY OUR NEW GUILT-FREE GUILT."

Tessa stood beside him, staring at the horizon.

"Tell me we're not dead," she said.

Milo blinked.

"Okay. We're not—"

A brass band played a dramatic chord behind them.

They both slowly turned.

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PAGE 3

A man in a crimson suit stood at the top of a marble staircase that hadn't been there a second ago.

Tall. Tailored. Smirk calibrated to maximum condescension.

"Welcome," he said smoothly, spreading his arms like he was unveiling a luxury timeshare. "To the UnderCity."

Milo squinted. "Is this... Hell?"

The man placed a hand over his heart. "Please. We rebranded."

Behind him stood a collection of demons who looked like they'd lost a bet at Fashion Week. One skeletal figure adjusted golden spectacles. Another small horned creature was chewing something that looked suspiciously like paperwork.

Tessa pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have got to be kidding me."

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PAGE 4

"I am Vaelthorne Rooke," the man announced with a polite bow. "Chief Executive Damnation Officer."

"That's not a real title," Milo muttered.

"Oh, it absolutely is," Vaelthorne replied. "We had shirts printed."

One demon snorted. Another whispered, "Told you the shirts were stupid."

"Shut up, Trammox," the skeletal one hissed.

"No, YOU shut up, Caldris. You alphabetize screams."

They immediately began arguing.

Milo stared. "Is this... normal?"

Tessa deadpanned, "We died and ended up in customer service."

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PAGE 5

Snitherix Quabblefang skittered forward, tail flicking like a caffeinated lizard.

"Ooooh siblings!" he squealed. "Fresh unresolved tension! Delicious!"

"I am not food," Tessa snapped.

"Technically," Caldris said, adjusting his visor, "you are emotional fuel."

Milo blinked. "So you're saying our arguing powers your weird neon city?"

"Yes," Vaelthorne said cheerfully. "Please continue. It's very sustainable."

Tessa stared at her brother.

Milo stared back.

"You always blame me for everything," she said.

"Oh here we go," he muttered.

The skyline pulsed brighter.

Every demon collectively inhaled.

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PAGE 6

The ground trembled as the buildings flared like someone had just turned up the dimmer switch on existential dread.

"YES," Snitherix shrieked. "That's the stuff!"

"I hate this place," Tessa said.

"Give it time," Vaelthorne replied. "We have a nightclub."

A demon with ash-gray wings leaned against a lamppost. "And karaoke on Thursdays."

"Last Thursday you set the stage on fire," Trammox yelled.

"It was thematic," she snapped back.

The demons were now arguing about fire codes.

Milo looked at Tessa. "We're in Hell and they're fighting over safety regulations."

"Honestly?" she said. "Feels accurate."

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PAGE 7

A giant neon billboard flickered to life above them.

It displayed Milo's face.

Caption: "THINKS HE'S RIGHT. IS NOT."

Another billboard lit up with Tessa's face.

Caption: "SAYS SHE'S FINE. IS ABSOLUTELY NOT."

"What the actual—" Milo began.

Zyphora Luxbane appeared in a shimmer of holographic glitter. "We do personalized branding."

Tessa glared upward. "Turn it off."

"Make me," Zyphora sang.

The demons began chanting, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

Vaelthorne sighed. "We are not doing street bets again."

Too late.

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PAGE 8

Milo threw his hands in the air. "This is ridiculous! We're dead! We should be... I don't know... burning?"

Vaelthorne tilted his head. "Fire is passé. Emotional accountability is far more painful."

Tessa crossed her arms. "So what, we just... argue forever?"

"If you like," Vaelthorne said lightly. "It keeps the lights on."

The skyline shimmered. Music swelled from nowhere. Demons snapped into choreographed formation like they'd been waiting for this cue all day.

Vaelthorne extended a gloved hand.

"Shall we begin?"

Behind him, the UnderCity roared to life.

And somewhere deep in the neon glow, the orchestra counted:

Five, six, seven—

Welcome to Hell.

Where the worst thing you'll face...
Is yourself.

And apparently, jazz.