So strange as it may seem, in the neon bowels of hell one hour after the battle on Earth had ended Balthazar was lounging across a lush black sofa listening to the screaming beauty of a British women telling everybody that if she opened her heart there would be no space for air.
As the air filled with human noise, Balthazar understood how she felt. The decadence of the room around him had never been enough. All latest gadgets and gizmos for your auditory and visual pleasure adorned the walls and teak cabinets around the room. Even the walls looked expensive with the contrasting black and gold walls, long black tendrils hung lazily from the beaded chandelier from all three evenly spaced lights on the ceiling. But this artificial beauty had never fared the skinny demon any satisfaction other than status.
But status was the problem, he had always ursurped the positions of Belial and Satan. To often sit around a table of heroic legends, be part of the glorious mythology that daily they wrought out of blood and sweat. They commanded respect, he had only obedient respect from those instructed to be instructed by him.
His long bony body stretched to the very tips of the sofa, as dreams of grandeur weeped slowly from his ego to his mind. Balthazar was wearing a long black and magenta silk robe, adorned with subtle dragons in various purples, tied together with a vibrant magenta sash.
Sprawled out listening to Human 'grunge' music away in his deluded fantasies was exactly how Aim found him.
Aim's entrance couldn't have been more startling if he had entered on a horse blowing a trumpet dressed as Malvolio. His thick arm's were blood soaked, sweat had matted his wild auburn hair to his forehead and a wild slicing cut stretched from his left ear to the tip of his chin in a sickening arch.
"Balthazar we have a serious problem." Aim was hyperventilating, his emerald eyes glowed with an anxious ferocity.
"Looking at you I think that our hospital has a serious problem." Balthazar had regained himself from his original shock at the violent entrance.
"Aamon has died, he is slain." Aim sat heavily on a small black chair. Balthazar hid his irritation at the blood soaked Demon squelching forcefully on his pristine furniture.
"I hardly consider a slain acolyte to be a serious dilemma Aim." Balthazar snorted.
Aim breathed heavily.
"Aamon was slain by...