How to Save the World and Other Illegal Shenanigans

You Know What They Say About Immortality

It was common knowledge that bad things happened when immortals got bored. Not dying opens up many more routes of entertainment for them, which often puts everyone in a weird situation. Like, what are you supposed to do? Resuscitate them?

Jack had a feeling that this generalization did not exclude Alex Mercado.

Jack was right in that assumption.

The vampire sat on top of the tall church, feet dangling off of the edge. She ate a sandwich as she looked down on the mostly empty street below, in which Jack stood.

He was really at a loss for what to do. He couldn't just walk up to her; demons simply aren't allowed into churches, not after what happened in the fourteenth century. Some demon-- not naming names, but he was ridiculously cool-- decided to throw a party because the sermon got boring. Everyone had more fun getting drunk with said demon than listening to the angel read an old book. A rule was made shortly after by the incredibly dry Powers That Be.

"You look like you want to come up," Alex called down to Jack. She almost blended in to the pale stone in the night. Who would think to look up and see a girl on top of a building? Jack, apparently.

"I'm considering it," the demon confessed. "But I'm not particularly keen on going up in flames. I happen to like this body, thank you very much."

A couple passing by clutched their wallets tighter. Jack imagined he looked raving mad: talking to an empty church in the middle of the night, discussing demonic things. It sounded a little odd to him, too.

"That's fair," Alex said. She took another bite of her sandwich, then continued to talk around it. "Lucifer sent you, right?"

"S'pose he did."

"Give me one good reason why I should listen to what you two have to say." Jack opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could say anything. "Just kidding. Do you know how boring it gets fucking around with humans all day?" She pushed herself off of the edge of the building, landing in front of Jack.

The demon could say with unshakable certainty that she was beautiful. Jack loved a girl who could corrupt anyone she met.

She flipped her dark hair over a shoulder.

"What do you want?"

"Just a few minutes, that's all."

Three hours later, the two sat absolutely plastered in a bar just down the street. She laid on the bartop, one long leg dangling off the edge. His head rested on her stomach, which didn't rise and fall and was surprisingly cold.

"So you're tellin' me," she slurred, "that we're all gonna die? Like actually?"

"Yeah, it sucks," he responded.

Alex wonders how green paint ended up splattered on the ceiling. "How many times have you done it already? How many times have you died, five?"

"Six thousand and forty seven," he mumbled. "Awful." He briefly remembered being run through with a broadsword during the Renaissance. The girl nodded approvingly.

"I think I'm hovering somewhere around seven hundred," she confessed. "A lot of people don't like me."

"But you come back. You always come back. Like... like a bad penny."

She snorted. "Hell yeah."

Jack cleared his throat and sat up. "Seriously though. We have to fix this, or you won't come back. Ever."

There's this thing that a large population of teenagers do when they don't want to do something. It resembles the sound of a dying animal, followed by slouched shoulders and complaining.

Alex lets out the greatest teenage-sounding groan, then rolled off the bar top. She stretched out. "What do I have to do?"

Jack raked his hand across his face. "Amiel will sort it out. I'll let you know when you're meeting, and the rest is up to you from there."

"Amiel sounds like a character that a furry would cosplay as."

"That's pretty close to the truth," Jack confesses. "You know how angels are."

"And where are you going?"

Jack had started to walk out of the bar, magically sober. Pausing at the door, he rolled up his sleeves before giving her a mock salute.

"I'm going to find Death and kick his ass all the way back to Hell."