PRESIDENT DAMEN PRICE:
"Are you sure that's appropriate?" Gabrielle, my press secretary asked. She asked that a lot.
"What? My outfit?" I asked assuming she was referring to the fact that I was sporting my Hellfire Jones costume. I wore my trademark black trench coat which had plenty of pouches for weapons and ammo. On my cowboy hat I had scrawled tally marks for each hellspawn I had killed. By the time Episode Three rolled around, I had killed so many demons that I had to start using Roman numerals. Even though they call them numerals, they're actually letters. It's like secret demon hunter code.
Gabby was staring at my chest, meaning she was either admiring my washboard abs or was evaluating the demon with the Ghostbusters symbol around it on my shirt. This was what Hellfire Jones wore in Episode 1 but we got a cease and desist order from the Ghostbusters people. Something about copyright violation. Well, copyright this, you pricks. I'm the goddam president and I'll wear whatever I want.
"I just think a suit and tie would be more appropriate, sir," Gabby said.
I appointed Gabby for three reasons. She was a woman. She was black. She was hot. My people suggested the first two would be essential in reassuring a portion of the population that I tended to alienate. I personally decided on the hotness part. It may all have been a mistake. Gabby kept reminding me she graduated top of her class and her long lists of accomplishments. It got tiresome. I really should have picked a Victoria's Secret supermodel instead.
"Gabby, Gabby, Gabby," I said in a condescending tone that I learned from her. "Right now we are in the middle of a demon war. Who has been in six demon wars; even more when you count all the fanfic and the direct-to-DVD movie? Hellfire Jones, that's who. The public elected Hellfire Jones. The public needs Hellfire Jones. The public is going to get Hellfire Jones."
She rolled her eyes, but eye rolls mean nothing to me. I kicked Satan's ass multiple times, even though he apparently owned my soul until I could find this Mitch Murphy clown. That thought was a little depressing. I needed to focus on the positive.
"Whoa! This is so awesome!" I said looking around the Oval Office. The real Oval Office, along with the White House, The Washington Memorial and the Capitol where those pesky congresspeople live were all destroyed in a volley of angel feather arrows. We were now 50 feet underground, and the room I was standing in looked exactly like the Oval Office. I could broadcast my messages from here and make it seem like nothing had happened and that America still stood strong.
"Has this always been here?" I asked. "I could have used this when I was filming Hellfire Jones. I wanted to use the actual Oval Office in the movie because it would look more realistic when we blew it up. Whoever the president at that time was wouldn't let me. No wonder that clown isn't in office anymore."
"Sir, a president can only serve two terms. That's why."
"We'll see about that," I said as I tapped on my new desk. "Made out of solid dead tree. Nice. Well, I guess I should start telling the country how great we're doing under my presidency even though just about everyone is dead."
"Yes, sir," Gabby said. "I personally wrote out some talking points..."
"No, thanks. Points don't talk. I talk. I wrote my own speech."
Gabby rolled her eyes again but this time she didn't say anything. That was an improvement.
The camera people were setting up their equipment. Above them were about 50 computer screens organized in five rows.
"Reporters will be able to ask questions virtually," Gabby explained.
"They usually don't like my answers," I said.
"Also, the Vice President and Speaker of the House will be listening in."
"About the Speaker," I said. "Weren't we going to change her title? She talks too much as it is. Calling her a Speaker only encourages that kind of thing."
Gabby just turned away, allegedly counting to 10 so she didn't tell me what she really thought. I got to look at her tight ass and she wasn't insulting me anymore. It was a double win.
"Get ready to go, Mr. President," the director said. "We go live in 60 seconds."
All the computer screens turned on and I gazed at my adoring public or obnoxious reporters, depending on what network they were from. The leather chair was just like the one I used to have upstairs before it got blown into angel dust. Nice and comfy. I sat down and spun around. Whee!
"Live in 5...4...3...2...1. Mr. President! Stop spinning."
'Huh?" I tried to stop myself but just banged my knee on the desk. "God damn stupid ass place to put a desk leg! Fuck!" I howled in a pain fueled bellow, followed by a stream of obscenities.
Then I noticed everyone staring at me.
"You guys didn't film that, did you?" I asked.
"We're live, Mr. President," the director smiled. I later learned that he could have used the seven second delay to spare me much embarrassment. For some reason he didn't, and many unfortunate memes at my expense followed.
Maintaining my composure, I started my speech.
"Good afternoon, members of the press, Mr. Vice President, Ms. Mute of the House and, of course, my beloved fans, also known as the American People." I could feel my approval ratings skyrocketing there.
"Right now we're up against the greatest challenge facing our nation. The forces of hell have conspired to take away our hard earned freedoms that we as Americans have sacrificed so much for. They're also blowing stuff up. Lots of stuff."
I took a second for this to sink in, as there might have been a few citizens that hadn't noticed.
"But this is America and when hell comes to us, we go to hell. We go directly to hell. We do not cross Go. We do not collect $200. We go straight to hell kicking ass and taking names!"
I paused for a second. "It's time for all of you to clap."
There was applause. There was not raucous applause. Mostly there were confused faces. I took that as my cue to continue.
"I'm sure you've all seen my movies, but I want to show you some clips so you can see how I personally dealt with the demons. In the scene you're about to watch, I'm holding Demonium the Deranged by his hooves over a vat in the Holy Water Factory. Watch how I get the coward to betray his demonic brethren. Scene!"
Instead of the clip from Hellfire Jones V of me torturing the hellslime; which is the only way to make their kind talk, they switched to a scene of me running naked through a sorority house.
This was from my very first movie, Bad Boy VII: The Panty Raid. While I was obviously very well endowed, this did not go down as one of my finest cinematic moments. It was a bomb for Wattpad Studios and it had absolutely nothing to do with me defeating the forces of darkness.
"Cut! Cut!" I shouted. "Someone is getting fired for this! Many people are getting fired! Turn off the damned cameras!"
"We're live, Mr. President," Gabby smirked. "We can't turn off the cameras."
I later learned that they very well could, but the damage had already been done. It was time for me to pull a Hellfire Jones and save this debacle of a speech.
"These are desperate times and desperate times call for desperate measures." I liked the sound of that. Yet another of one of my completely original quotable quotes.
"As of today, I'm declaring Marital Law."
A few people started humming 'Here Comes the Bride.' I don't know what that was all about.
"Marital Law means that I'm in charge and there's gonna be a lot of tanks," I explained. "There will be a curfew and anyone caught breaking curfew will be grounded for life. I don't recommend anyone saying anything bad about me, especially you snarky reporters. These measures may sound harsh, but if we all work together, we will get through this disaster like this country has gotten through all the other ones."
I couldn't think of any other ones, but they really didn't matter. "As Hellfire Jones, I was the world's premier hellslayer and I appoint each and every one of you my hellslayerettes. Can I get an amen!"
I didn't get an amen. This was a tough crowd.
"Okay, I guess it's time for questions." I could tell the reporters were getting impatient. "You. Cute blonde girl on the third screen from the right. You have a question?"
"I'm Stacy Sheldon from the Tribune, and I just have one question. Have you lost your mind?"
"No, sweetie, I haven't. Next."
"I'd like to pick up on where Ms. Sheldon left off," a bearded guy on one of the bottom screens said. "Other than harassing the girls from the Delta Zeta house, I don't see you having any solid plan to win this war. We don't even have a country to attack. We're in the middle of an ancient battle between two supernatural forces and we're getting creamed. Unconfirmed estimates state that over 75% of the planet has been decimated and the death toll is beyond imagining. You were photographed with an angel. Armadas of angels are blitzkrieging the country right now. If you're as chummy with these angels as you say, get them to call off their attacks on innocent people. Maybe they could help us stop the demons. Just this morning, the entire West Coast has been swallowed by the ocean which, by the way, is burning. The goddam ocean is burning!"
"Look, look," I said, holding my hands up. "I've got property in California. Two mansions, a resort and a golf course. All gone. No one understands suffering like myself, believe me. I'm just saying if we all stick together and Congress passes tax breaks to cover real estate losses, we'll get through this."
"Kate Sung from the Courier." I hate it when these people don't wait until I call on them. This girl must have been a hoot with her teachers in school. Being gracious, I let her continue.
"Mr. President, I don't know if you can hear the explosions in the background but I'm broadcasting from the front lines. In case you can't tell from your safe, cozy bunker, the entire world is the front lines. We're looking to you for some kind of assurance and if you can't give us that, at least let us know that you're scared like the rest of us because we need something; even if it's just empathy and understanding. Please!"
I can't remember how long I just sat there trying to think of something witty to say. I was hoping they'd get the Hellfire Jones clip rolling so I could just ignore her. Thankfully, I was interrupted by a buzz in my ear. It was my Men In Black letting me know that they had captured Mitch Murphy.
"Rock and roll! I get to keep my soul!" I shouted. Suddenly, none of this other stuff mattered.
"This little get-together is over," I announced, spinning out of my chair and making sure not to bang my leg this time." Remember, curfew at 7:00. Lights out at 8:00. Later!"
I ran out as quickly as I could, but Gabby was dogging me again.
"That was pathetic," she said. "You made everything worse and I didn't think that was possible."
I walked faster to outpace her but my knee really hurt. So I stopped, turned around and argued back.
"Listen, I'm the chief and you need to hail me. There's even a song about it." I wagged my finger at her in a very presidential manner. "Talking to reporters is your job, not mine. I'm the president. I don't know why I have to deal with them in the first place. Some of those reporters have been doing their job for decades, but they're still asking questions like a bunch of trainees."
"I know I'm stating the obvious, but asking questions is their job."
"Sounds pretty cushy to me." I continued with the finger wagging. "Unlike being the president which is super ultra-hard. And right now I have to do something damned presidential and possibly top secret."
"You have no secrets; top or otherwise. No one tells you anything." Gabby brushed my finger aside. "Because no one trusts you. The nuclear codes you have? It's just your license plate number."
"I knew that looked familiar," I said. "So you mean to tell me, I can't actually nuke anybody? Not even those pesky Canadians? That really hurts my feelings."
"You have feelings?"
"I sure do, and right now I feel like firing you, Gabby. I don't care how sexy you are. There. That felt good and completely appropriate."
I got the last word, mostly because she was too flabbergasted to say anything. I walked all the way down the hall to the elevator. I pressed some buttons then inserted the key under the buttons. This key let me go anywhere in the White House. I was told I was the only one with a key like this because it had a picture of an eagle on it and it said President of the United States. I rode the elevator downstairs to the steel door which led to the underground DemonMax Prison. It was an exact replica of the one from Hellfire Jones III: Demonic Death Penalty. The entire hallway was lined with barred prison cells with red glyphs painted around them to keep the demons from escaping.
There weren't any demons in the cells this time, but I saw a fat nerdy guy trying to take a nap. I also happened to overhear the Men in Black talking to each other as I walked in.
"I don't think this is really Mitchell Murphy."
"Of course not. Mitchell Murphy didn't answer his door. But this guy kind of looks like him."
"I'm just glad he wasn't really a zombie. This country isn't prepared for a zombie apocalypse."
"The country isn't prepared for a regular apocalypse. Obviously."
"Affirmative. Zombies would just make it worse."
"Zombies rarely make anything better."
"Excuse me! Is that Mitchell Murphy or is that someone who looks like him?" I cleared my throat so they knew that El Presidente Grande was here and to let them know I overheard everything. I'm sure they were shaking in their black leather shoes and dreading my swift judgment. I could only assume this because they never had any expressions on their faces. Ever.
Before either could answer, my intern Lilly Santana walked in wearing a tight red mini dress; her boobies ready to fall out. I know this for a fact because that is exactly what they did last week when we were in the Presidential Bedroom and she was howling to the Chief.
"I don't think she has security clearance to be here," one of the Men in Black said.
"In fact, I know she doesn't have security clearance."
"There are only eight people allowed here, Mr. President. None of them are women because you put a 'Sexy Chix Only' sign on the door. You informed me that most of the women that work for you don't meet that strict criteria."
"Of course, if that law were followed to the letter, none of us could be down here either."
"Affirmative. Though, you do look hot in those shades, Mr. M."
"Why, thank you, Mr. X. If I could blush, I would do so."
Once those two started talking, it was hard to shut them up. I was annoyed and also worried that I was breaking one of my own laws because I wasn't a Hot Chix. Gabby then marched into the room clutching the crumpled sign in her shaking hand. I was so busted.
"What the hell is the intern doing here?" she pointed at Lilly. "And what is this? You're locking people up?"
This called for some smooth talking damage control.
"Lilly is down here because she and I were role playing. For national security, of course. She's playing the bad prisoner and I'm the easily bribed security officer."
"Oh, I love that one," Lilly said.
"I'm still processing this, but what about these prisoners?" Gabby asked. "Why are you locking everyone up?"
"Not everyone," I assured her. "Just Mitch Murphy."
"Who the hell is Mitch Murphy?" she demanded.
I could have told her that I had no clue and that I was taking orders from the devil, but that wouldn't fly well. As you learn in Politics 101, if you're too ashamed, don't answer the question at all.
"Who the hell is Mitch Murphy???" she shouted even louder.
"He's a bad, bad man," I answered, turning away from her. Hey, I had to say something.
I walked over to the cell. The fat, nerdy one was waking up. He turned to look at me with the happiest Christmas morning expression I'd ever seen.
"Dude!" he said quite emphatically. "It's Hellfire Jones!"
"It's the president," one of his friends said.
"Oh yeah," Murphy said. His eyes were still alight with pure fanboy fervor. "Mr. Jones, I would totally be honored to get your autograph. Also, if you feel like letting us go, that would be beyond excellent as well,"
I think my small heart grew three sizes that day, because suddenly Murphy didn't seem that bad. He was the heart of America, looking up at me with the honor and respect I deserved. Who was I to keep him locked up like that?
I was still going to sacrifice his ass to Satan. That goes without saying. Still, I unlatched the prison door. How did I do that? The Demonmax Prison just looked so cool, I forgot to have locks installed. In retrospect, I suppose that was a mistake.
"Thanks, Mr. Jones," Mitch said as he proudly walked out of the most secure replica of a demon prison on the planet. "I'm totally posting that Hellfire Jones busted us out of prison. Can I get a selfie with you? Oh and with my friends too."
I looked at his friends. They did not seem like my kind of people at all. One looked exactly like a scuzzy terrorist if terrorists wore Armani while doing their terrorizing. The other was a short, frantic haired girl with Hubble telescope thick lenses wearing a shirt that said 'Big Pharma Puts Nanobots In Your Brain.'
If this were indeed true, I decided I'd be against it no matter how much awesome stuff Big Pharma gave me. Regardless, she certainly didn't look like a hot chix described in the sign on the door, and shouldn't be here. As for the guy; I don't like terrorists that dress better than I do. The nerd, on the other hand, was a Hellfire Jones fan. I guess I'd have to overlook some things for a fan.
"I'd be more than happy," I told Mitch. "In fact, I could autograph a couple movie posters for you if you'd like."
"You just said this was a bad person and now you're letting him go?" buzzkill Gabrielle demanded.
"Hellfire Jones fans aren't bad people," I assured her, as I tussled Mitch Murphy's head. This was probably a very bad idea. His hair was very greasy and I could almost feel the lice crawling up my arm. "Let's go upstairs so I can get a couple selfies with my Number 1 fan in the Oval Office."
"The camera people and reporters are still there," Gabby reminded me.
"That really sucks, because the Oval Office is like the Batcave for presidents." I explained to Mitch. "Hellfire Jones hates reporters, young man. Remember that."
"Milliseconds count here in the battle against good and evil," Lilly growled. "Mitch Murphy is ours!"
Lilly was looking a little different now. Maybe it was the horns poking out of her skull. Or the ripped leather demon wings flapping behind her. Or the glowing yellow eyes or the red skin tone or...any number of things. She just didn't seem quite so hot anymore.
"Wait?" My brilliant brain was computing at a million miles an hour to figure out what was going on here. "Lilly, you're really a demon?"
"I told you I was a bad, bad, girl," Lilly said.
"I thought it was more a sexy 'tie me up and make me call you mommy' bad than a demonic bad," I insisted. Had I missed a crucially vital detail somewhere?
"Hellfire Jones, what do we do now?" Mitch cried.
"Um, the Men in Black are going to take it from here," I suggested.
"Negative, Mr. President," one of the black clad men said.
"Fighting demons that you stupidly hired is above our pay grade."
"Affirmative. We're going for coffee together."
"I think I would like that. By 'coffee' do you mean coffee or is that secret code for something else?"
"I always talk in code."
"That is one of the things that has always turned me on about you."
"We're clocking out for the rest of the day. Good luck, Mr. President."
With that, the Men in Black walked away, putting themselves on the long list of people I was going to fire.
"Well, I'm not sure how things could get any worse," I muttered. Sometimes you just had to call it like it was.
I looked to Gabby because, even though I didn't want to admit it, she had some good ideas. The more I made her solve things, the less I had to. This is known as delegating, which is a big word that means taking credit for stuff I don't do.
If I hoped to utilize Gabby's brain, I was out of luck. A laser beam from out of nowhere sliced the top of her head off right above her eyebrows. It didn't seem to hurt, which was quite fortunate because I was afraid the same thing was going to happen to me. She was actually smiling as the top of her head floated in the air. Instead of seeing that brain of hers, the inside of her head was a pulsating blinding white light.
The decapitated top of her head then glowed as well and morphed into a flat circular shape with a hole in it. It looked just like a floating donut! I love donuts. Imagine what a glowing, floating one tasted like.
"A halo!" Faizan shouted. "It's a halo. She's an angel!"
And so she was. White fluffy wings sprouted out from her back. Her eyes glowed and a harp magically appeared in her hands.
"You hired a demon and an angel?" April asked.
"I wouldn't say hired exactly," I defended myself. "They didn't put that on their resumes. Also, I don't pay them very much."
"I want Mitch Murphy," Gabby sang as she played a catchy tune on her harp.
"Mitch Murphy belongs in the infernal pits of hell!" Lilly hissed. She now had a pitchfork in her left hand because she had to one-up the harp.
"Dudes! Do I get a say in this?" Mitch asked. That was a really dumb question.
"Lilly, let's have a battle to the death, and the winner gets Murphy," Gabby suggested.
"Sounds good to me," Lilly answered, twirling her pitchfork like a member of the satanic color guard. "We can kill these three other fools, right?"
"Definitely," Gabby answered. Her wings were flapping and the harp music got louder. I guess that's what angels do when they mean business.
"Hellfire Jones, what's the plan?" Mitch asked me.
I pissed my pants. That about all I had so far.
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