The fire burned and he stood his back against the house. His face, with an ugly scar running from his temple to his cheek, covered with a wide brim hat. He wore a long trench coat and heavy duty boots. As he smoked a wicked grin on his face he let the screaming souls burn. He picked his phone and mumbled ,"no vessels here."

"Well that sucked," Ken said throwing his comic into the trash, "that is where you belong."

The ending was deeply unsatisfying, leaving him regretting ever starting the series, which he now deemed absolute trash. A knock on his door interrupted his frustrations. Only one person knocked with such urgency, as if rent was due: Stacy, his older sister. How she ended up being the firstborn remained a mystery to him, given that Stacy had the emotional intelligence of a toddler.

"Hey, finish your jerking off session quick, Mom wants to talk to us!" she yelled. He stood up, bracing himself for the inevitable lecture about why he should never get his brother caught up in his prank war with Stacy. As he opened the door, a splash of whipping cream hit him square in the face—she had fired her shot. He wiped it off with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "We'll come back to this!"

As he descended the stairs, his dad sported his summer attire—a short Hawaiian shirt and his trademark glasses. Mom, still in her pajamas, bustled around the kitchen, while his younger brother, snug in his onesie, contentedly chewed on a block inside his playpen. Excited to see Ken, he bounded towards him, and Ken scooped him up as they made their way to the dining room.

"Please tell me this means you're going back to work, Mom! I can't handle another prepubescent talk. I'm nineteen!" Stacy groaned.

"Yeah, you've been on maternity leave long enough! People will start thinking Mickey's a dragon," Ken quipped. Their parents exchanged amused glances.

"Your dad has something important to tell you," Steve almost choked on his beer, taken aback. He looked at her, slightly dazed.

"We're moving out," Bethany interjected before Steve could gather his thoughts. Blank stares from both children were all they received. 

"Great, where are we going now? Mars?" Ken asked sarcastically, his tone dripping with frustration. The mood around the table shifted to one of gloom and doom as they sat there, absorbing the news. This marked the fourth time they had to uproot their lives during Ken's childhood. Stacy swore there was a time they moved out just two weeks after settling into a new house. The repetition was becoming increasingly frustrating for them all.

"Look, I know this is frustrating and annoying, but this is the last time. Your dad got a job in another state, and I want to support him by becoming a full-time housewife," Bethany explained, trying to alleviate the tension in the room.

"You know, for a feminist, you are disappointing," Stacy couldn't help but comment, her frustration evident in her voice.

"I have three kids and a business, what's so bad about that?" Bethany countered, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Lemme try some black then," Stacy said, realizing she hadn't quite hit the mark with her previous comment.

"You're too dumb to think of one," Ken interjected before Stacy could continue. She wanted to object but was stopped short by his challenge. "Name a black activist that isn't Beyoncé."

Stacy rolled her eyes. "Fine, how about Angela Davis?"

Ken nodded approvingly. "Not bad, Stacy. Maybe there's hope for you yet or you could be screwing your tutor who am I to know?"

"You two!" Ken's voice cut through the air, halting his parents just as they were attempting a French exit. They paused by the kitchen door, casting wary glances back at him. Ken gently placed his brother on the kitchen table, his eyes ablaze with frustration.

"What you guys are doing is selfish. We haven't even been here a year, and yet you already want us gone! We have friends and people we love," he implored, his tone pleading.

"Have you heard of phone calls, Ken?" Bethany countered, her voice tinged with exasperation. Ken sheepishly stared at her, realizing his oversight.

"Think of the child and the memories," he tried once more, desperation creeping into his voice.

"We've been here only a year, and your brother was born just eight months ago," Bethany reminded him, her words cutting through the tension in the room. Stacy coughed discreetly, her eyes fixed on her brother, a silent signal of support.

"We were to make... Okay, look, this is not fair. You can't come in and ask us to leave our lives behind," Ken's frustration bubbled over, his voice rising as he yelled at his mother.

"Fair? We are the parents; we make the decisions," Bethany roared back, her voice thunderous.

"Fuck that," Ken retorted, his statement earning him a sharp slap from his mother.

"Watch your language!" she admonished him, her voice laced with anger.

The tension in the room was palpable, so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. Ken, unable to bear it any longer, stormed out through the kitchen door, leaving everyone stunned in his wake. Bethany turned to Stacy, attempting to diffuse the situation with a nervous smile.

"Kids, am I right?" she said, a forced lightness in her tone. "For the record, I'm okay with the move. Come on, Mickey, let's go change that diaper."

Ken sat perched on the roof ledge, the gentle glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the urban landscape. He took a drag from his joint, the pungent aroma of weed mingling with the faint scent of evening air. The rhythmic sound of skateboard wheels rolling up the street heralded the arrival of Joe, his faithful friend. With practiced ease, Joe hopped off his board and joined Ken on the ledge, their silhouettes etched against the fiery backdrop of the horizon as they watched the sun sink lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. But beneath the beauty of the moment, a sense of impending darkness lingered.

"Sucks, right? Leaving all this behind to go to some gated community?" Joe's voice broke the serene silence, his words laden with a tinge of melancholy.

"You smoked some on the way here, bro?" Ken asked, his eyes betraying his suspicion as he scanned Joe's slightly glazed expression.

"I wanna throw a rager before I go, something to remember forever," Ken declared, his enthusiasm tinged with a hint of desperation.

Ken nodded in agreement, though his mind was elsewhere. "Making out with my sister is dangerous, she's venomous," Joe chuckled, but Ken's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, a flicker of unease dancing in his eyes. Suddenly, he saw something—a flash, a movement—disappearing into the darkness. Blinking, he shook off the strange sensation and declared it a night.

As Ken descended from the ledge and began to walk, an eerie sense of foreboding settled over him. He glanced around, unable to shake the feeling that unseen eyes were watching his every move. Meanwhile, Joe watched him depart, a furrow forming on his brow as he made his way to a nearby bench where Stacy sat waiting.

"Are you sure about this? He's your brother," Joe's voice held a note of concern, his gaze meeting Stacy's with a mixture of apprehension and doubt.

"We don't have a choice," Stacy replied, her tone flat and emotionless, her eyes betraying a hidden depth of darkness that sent shivers down Joe's spine.

Six figures sat cloaked in the dimness of a somber room, each lost in the labyrinth of their own thoughts. The room was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional rings of smoke spiraling into the air from one of the figures.

"So, heaven and hell are now working together?" One of them, clad in a sleek Italian suit, broke the silence as he moved away from the window, running a hand through his dark, lustrous hair that cascaded in sleek waves. His presence was commanding, a subtle aura of authority enveloping him.

"Not now, Morningstar," another figure snapped impatiently, his voice tinged with irritation.

"I rebelled, and a chain reaction started. Where's Gabi?" 

"How's the politics in hell?" Morningstar retorted with a mischievous smirk, revealing the chaos brewing within the underworld as factions vied for power, demanding Lucifer's abdication from the throne.

"There's nothing they're doing that I haven't done. Don't forget what I did with Dad," Morningstar added, his tone dripping with arrogance.

"Where is he?" Michael muttered, his unease palpable as the weight of prophecy weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was uncertain about his newfound leadership and the alliance with the very entity that had been their sworn enemy for eons.

Hell remained a threat, with one of its governors now on Earth, hunting vessels—an ominous sign of impending danger. Suddenly, a figure draped in a tunic strode into the room, drawing the attention of all present.

"Who's this time traveler?" one of them quipped, but the atmosphere shifted as the figure stumbled, prompting the others to rush to his aid, procuring supplies and administering aid.

"Loose the body, brother," Michael commanded, and a radiant being of light materialized beside them.

"Meet Barachiel, guardian angel of the lower seraphim. You know your duty, brother?" Michael addressed the radiant being, his voice tinged with authority.

"This is who you're sending? Last time I saw you, you were a wee little thing!" Lucifer's glare bore into his brother, a silent warning simmering beneath the surface.

"Hello, Lucifer! Yes, take the vessel by all means!" Barachiel greeted with an air of serenity.

"Kennedy Grime still doesn't know who he is," Lucifer informed his brother, the room gradually growing dimmer as Barachiel began assuming a human form.

"The better," Michael conceded, the weight of their impending task settling over them like a shroud.

"He will not survive Lilith and Sisera!" He quipped," well before all goes to shit! Let me go back I have a few hundred people to torture, scratch that they're all demons!" He crossed his arms and a fire rose from his feet as he descended to the ground.

"He knows we have installed fire alarms right ?" Right then they went off. 

Ken snuck back through the backyard, hoping to avoid any unwanted encounters. However, his human nightmare was seated on the swing—Stacy, his sister and the household prankster. As soon as she saw him, she whipped out her phone and played a wailing air siren, cackling at his startled reaction. He was sure he was going to regret the next thing he'd do, he went up to the swing and sat next to her. 

"Stace you got anyone you're seeing?" 

"Grandma's ghost she says hi," she said chuckling," why you asking this? Wait you just got laid ?" 

He regretted it instantly. So he went in the house as Stacy laughed her lungs out. He had to be quiet since his mom was trying to pacify his little brother, quietly he walked up the stairs. 

"He came in ?" Bethany asked Steve who came up from the basement, he went into the fridge grabbed a root beer and a box of pizza.

"Yeah I will go talk to him," he said going upstairs," I'll go talk to him before you slap his head off." 

Bethany shot him a weary look, bouncing Mickey gently in her arms.

"Hey buddy," Steve was always the mediator in the family, the one who tried to keep things calm when tempers flared and most importantly he was the cool parent. Ken could hear him approaching, each step on the creaky floorboards sounding louder in the quiet of the hallway. He stood at the door holding the objects of peace. 

"Sup buddy," he told his dad as he picked the food from his hand. He put them on his desk. 

"So, what's going on?" Steve asked, sitting on the edge of Ken's bed.

Ken sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know we have to move and there's so much I feel like I'll miss out on dad. I just... I don't know. Everything feels messed up right now."

"Change is a lot me boy! But we need to accept change and sail the seven seas of new horizons!

"That pirate accent worked once in our lives!"

"Your brother loves it!" 

"He barely understands English!" 

"Arr, fair enough, me heartie., maybe it's time to retire the pirate. But seriously, Ken, it's okay to feel scared or sad about moving. It's a big change. But think about all the new experiences you'll have. New friends, new places to explore."

Ken nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess. It's just hard to see that right now."

Steve put a reassuring hand on Ken's shoulder. "We'll get through this together. And hey, there's always pizza to help with the stress."

Ken managed a small smile. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, buddy. Now, let's dig into this pizza and talk about anything else you want to get off your chest."

"So I asked Stacy if she's dating anyone," Ken told his dad as they laughed about it. Little did they know of the creature of the dark that kept an eye on them. With a sudden rustle of leathery wings, it unfurled its grotesque appendages and took flight into the inky blackness, emitting a bone-chilling screech that pierced the silence like a dagger, leaving Ken and his dad none the wiser to the imminent danger lurking just beyond their sight.