In Los Angeles, this City of Angels, it's not just angels that reside.
As the saying goes, where there's light, there's shadow. In this city where angels, the embodiment of light, frequently appear, demons and undead creatures also lurk in dark alleys and underground.
Of course, angels don't show up here just because of the city's name.
It's because the Prince of Hell's bar is here.
Lucifer has abandoned his duties in Hell, causing chaos, while the angels come here more often to keep an eye on his actions.
In fact, Lucifer's been living like a human these past few years.
He cut off his Demon Bat Wings and handed them to his ex-wife, Izunaami no Mikoto, for safekeeping. Then he started running a bar on earth, playing detective games, and occasionally wooing pretty policewomen.
But Gabriel, Raphael, and other angels come looking for him every few days, suspecting Lucifer whenever something demonic causes trouble in the human world.
However, oftentimes, they find Constantine is the actual troublemaker.
This guy, who can't go to Heaven and refuses to enter Hell, always seems intent on stirring things up for comfort.
At this moment, Los Angeles is experiencing a drizzle, and as autumn approaches, rain becomes more frequent.
A lean figure wearing a yellow trench coat walks out of a grocery store as the bell on the door rings dully.
As if saying: 'Get lost, you pauper!'.
But the owner of the shadow is already accustomed to it; she fishes out a newly bought pack of cigarettes from her trench coat pocket, flicks one out, pops it into her mouth, and lights it by conjuring a flame with her fingers.
Compared to dinner, she still chose to buy cigarettes first.
"Damn, I have $1.40 left, can't even afford a hotdog, dinner hasn't been sorted yet..." She looks up at the sky, the rain falling harder, while she smokes as raindrops create dark spots on the cigarette, "We're all doomed; I didn't bring an umbrella. Money, once again, you've let me down!"
She pulls up the collar of her trench coat, walks along the street toward the office, talking to herself adeptly but without any resentment; instead, she seems quite casual.
The demon flame within her keeps her body warm all over, so the rain barely makes her feel cold.
"If you can't buy me love, could you at least afford me dinner? Where can you get a meal for a dollar?"
She puffs on her cigarette, deep in thought, yet a dollar is really too little; she must take a job today, preferably one that provides dinner.
"Hmm?"
Walking across the damp streets, she sharply senses the presence of a demon's aura deep in the alley and hears someone crying for help.
This is the quickest and most direct job.
She spots a creature with bat wings, six eyes on its face, and numerous tentacles grabbing a fat middle-aged man, pinning him to the ground.
"I'm going to eat your soul, and tear off your head, slurp." The demon, with yellow drool, inches closer to the victim's face.
Before eating people, demons like to first scare them; a fearful soul is tastier, and if someone is more desperate, even better.
However, just as it plans to take a bite, a strong flash of red light shines from the other end of the street.
A series of high-level Demon Language sounds nearby, and a very powerful Hell Magic instantly hits the demon, blasting it to ashes in the air.
Alabell approaches the fallen fatty; if he's dead, she doesn't mind using the money of the dead. The soul's been devoured by a demon; more money wouldn't be of use, would it?
She lowers her hands used for casting, flicks the cigarette, and sees the fatty isn't dead; she softly clicks her tongue.
Although casting was to save him, she's unsatisfied once he's saved; she's just that conflicted.
The middle-aged man crawls up from the ground, panic-stricken, collecting his briefcase, which has strewn various papers all over the damp ground.
Alabell quietly smokes, lost in thoughts about recent events.
"What was that thing?" The fatty hugs the briefcase to his chest.
Alabell raises an eyebrow, glancing at him; it's apparent he's a low-ranking company employee without much money: "Obviously, a demon."
"I'm very sorry," The man says timidly, curling into a ball.
"I mean, lately, those things are all over the city," Alabell hints.
"I am sorry," The man lowers his head, repeating the words.
"Never mind..." Alabell is already too lazy to speak gibberish, planning to return to the office first, perhaps see about a divorce case.
The middle-aged man hugs the briefcase, his broad face filled with curiosity: "How did you save me with just your two hands?"
"I learned from YouTube videos, two-hour crash course to become a Dark Arts Master."
"Really?" The man shows a hopeful look; even someone who knows nothing about mysticism senses the strength of magic and its destructive aura just now.
Alabell takes a deep drag, spits to one side: "As someone who was almost a demon's dinner, you're asking a lot of questions."
"I'm sorry..." The man lowers his head.
Alabell sighs; this fatty's timid nature seems to stem from his normal life, probably a pitiful man, while she has no dinner—a more pitiful soul.
"Alright, we're done; you better hurry home and lock the door tight." She pats the middle-aged man's shoulder, turns to leave.
"How can I repay you? You saved my life." The man asks from behind.
"Got any cash?" She slightly tilts her head, the cigarette in her mouth constantly getting wet and dry: "I usually charge for this kind of work."
"I have, about forty US Dollars." The man feels all his pockets, pulls out some crumpled bills.
Alabell swiftly turns, snatches the bills with one hand, wets her thumb to start counting: "I used to charge much more, but consider this a new customer discount this time."
The $38.50, tonight she can have something nice. Thai cuisine it is.
She stuffs the cash in her pocket, waves her hand, ready to leave.
"Who are you?" The fatty asks again.
Alabell pats her head, pulls out a stack of business cards from her pocket, and hands them to the fatty.
"Take a few, give them to your friends. I foresee they'll need them soon. Currently, my exorcism service is promoting a buy-one-get-one, help spread the word."
Of course, people like the middle-aged man, almost invisible in daily life, it's hard to say if he has any friends...
He watches the beautiful figure vanish into the nightfall, then looks down at the rather unreliable-looking business card, and scurries back home.
For ordinary people, the night's event was a bit too thrilling...
Alabell's in a good mood; she got dinner. This brutal world won't let those with skills starve, and her skills are quite commendable.
She's the strongest caster she knows.