Jazzy Elaine
Tsundere
Ding!
The thick steel doors parted as the elevator welcomed Luke to step into its metal belly. It had been a long day at the office for the dark-haired businessman, though his daily work of manipulation and instilling his colleagues with greed and jealousy was nothing short of congenial amusement. The elevator enclosed the man in its bowels before the vast array of numbered buttons blinked to life. The number twenty swirled in red above the sealed doors, indicating that he was on the top floor. Luke's deep cerulean eyes scanned the controls briefly before he pressed his palm to the cool metal of the lift wall. The whir of a scanner buzzed inside the polycarbonate walls and a new button promptly appeared beneath the icon to the ground floor, blazing a bright red triple six. The lean 6'2" Caucasian male jabbed the button with his manicured fingertip before it vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. A jerk ensued as the metal box slowly began its descent of the twenty-story company building.
Time dragged as the elevator rolled through the chute with the utmost caution, each floor prompting a new red number to flip above the enclosed doors. 20, 19, 18,17. Another ding echoed around the suited man's head as the elevator came to a stop. The compartment doors glided open and in waddled a stout middle-aged fellow with greasy, slicked blonde hair. Luke's lips curled in a pleasant smirk as the elevator doors rolled shut and they resumed their journey down. "Good evening, Mr. Monroe." He gave a curt nod to the new arrival. A grunt was heard in response as the older man studied his cell phone with a disgruntled expression.
Mr. Monroe was the head manager of the financial department for the company. He specialized in increasing the company's revenue and doing everything in his power to keep incoming profits high and resource costs low. A very sneaky and manipulative position, and the middle-aged millionaire was the perfect fit for the job. Luke liked him very much. The younger entrepreneur cleared his throat before addressing the older man again. "Mr. Monroe, how is the deal with Reiners coming along? I expect you've gotten the opposing side to agree to our terms in the negotiation?" This seemed to pique the stout man's interest and he lifted his fatty chin from his device. "Yes, yes. Once I convinced them that they would be benefiting more than we would in this deal," a scoff interrupted his explanation, coupled with a smug grin, "they readily complied with all of our terms." The man looked proud of his accomplishment; his sausage fingers hooked in his expensively sewn suit pockets triumphantly. A chuckle countered from the younger male's lips and he congratulated Mr. Monroe on his accomplishment. Happy as he was now, he would still go home and down his pills with the full flask of whisky on the counter in his empty renovated mansion, Luke knew. Their mundane, pointless chatter quickly ended as the elevator halted again and ushered the fat chap out of its hold. The doors closed and Luke continued his descent, alone again.
13, 12, 11...
Again, it stopped. A sigh breathed from Luke's pursed lips. The elevator shuddered as its doors slid open, this time to reveal a short, skinny, weasel-faced man nervously twisting the handle of his suitcase. "M-Mr. Iffer, sir!" He chirruped, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously as he shuffled to stand beside the other male. The doors closed again and down the box went. The tension in the metal compartment was thick as butter as it radiated off of the weasel-man with a vengeance. Carl was his name; a boot-licking, butt-kissing director's assistant who had climbed the ranks of employment by sucking up to every upper-class employee he knew, including Luke. The younger man--in his early twenties, with Luke looking no more than thirty--had proven to be of interest to the superior male. Though he was a far cry from the conniving, cunning, and unscrupulous ways of the previous elevator-rider, Mr. Monroe, he still possessed some redeeming unprincipled qualities. The way he managed to consistently cheat on his sorry wife with the sexy dame in his office quarters especially tickled Luke's fancy. "Relax, Carl. We're all on the same side here," the dark-haired superior assured him warmly, giving him a sly wink. A nervous titter erupted from the mousy man. "O-of course, Mr. Iffer! Thank you!" Soon the steel doors opened wide again and Carl hurriedly scuffled out of the elevator, leaving Luke to himself once more. The pulleys creaked a whirred as the thick metal box declined the expanse of the skyscraper. Incessant elevator music hummed through the overhead speaker as the numbers flashed above the door;
8, 7, 6...
Another lurch. Another ding. This time, a beautiful 5'7'' redhead dressed in a modest grey dress and four-inch stilettos entered the depths of the steel-aluminum giant. A frown tugged at the corners of Luke's lips. Grace Tippet, a mere secretary with a heart of gold and a breathtaking smile. Frequent church-going, charity-giving, prudish young lady with a tongue of milk and honey. Everything that Luke abhorred. The woman gave Mr. Iffer a warm smile. "Hello, Mr. Iffer. Lovely evening, isn't it?" Her voice was syrupy sweet, and not in the fake, crafty sort of way that one uses to get what they want. Genuine. Disgusting. The dark-haired man gave a cool nod as the elevator descended at an agonizingly slow pace. Finally, the lift stopped, and the red numbers shone a bright and relieving number one. "God bless!" Grace waved at Luke, whose face twisted in utter disgust at the phrase. He glared at her receding form until the metal doors slid shut in front of him. Even while being on the ground floor, the elevator began to move...downwards. The atmosphere in the box soon began to change as the music still flowing through the speaker distorted, and eventually silenced. Down and down the elevator went, faster now than it had before as the metal began to creak and groan at the drastic spike in temperature. The man stood calmly at the center of the box, an unperturbed whistle floating carelessly from his lips.
Finally, the concluding lurch of the night brought the elevator to a complete stop. The doors steadily unfurled and the tall male exited its belly. Beneath his dress shoes was a rocky terrain littered with red dust and spatters of dried blood and crushed bone residue. The temperature was scorching, and instead of the annoying elevator music he'd had to endure all twenty-one stories there were shrieks of agony and terror echoing throughout the eerie cavern. True music to Luke Iffer's ears. Or, more accurately; Lucifer's ears.
The Caucasian male unbuttoned his black suit and peeled it off of his body, now stark naked against the dim light. Inhaling the sweet aroma of tears and anguish that clung to the humidity like a fog, the man dug his fingers into the base of his neck. The skin stretched and pared off of his scarlet undercoat as he shed the disguise and hung it on a coat rack a few feet away from where he was standing. A sigh of relief ensued from his lips as he rolled his head and massaged his shoulders. He continued to remove the blue contacts from his crimson irises and stripped down to his bare, natural body he used to rule the Underworld. The devil slipped on a dark cloak over his blood-colored skin as he inhaled sharply, turned, and finally entered his domain.
Behind him, the thick metal elevator closed its steel doors and groaned against the sweltering, sultry heat as it began its ascent back to the world above; all so it could return again the next morning for the boring, everyday businessman who was Luke Iffer.
The thick steel doors parted as the elevator welcomed Luke to step into its metal belly. It had been a long day at the office for the dark-haired businessman, though his daily work of manipulation and instilling his colleagues with greed and jealousy was nothing short of congenial amusement. The elevator enclosed the man in its bowels before the vast array of numbered buttons blinked to life. The number twenty swirled in red above the sealed doors, indicating that he was on the top floor. Luke's deep cerulean eyes scanned the controls briefly before he pressed his palm to the cool metal of the lift wall. The whir of a scanner buzzed inside the polycarbonate walls and a new button promptly appeared beneath the icon to the ground floor, blazing a bright red triple six. The lean 6'2" Caucasian male jabbed the button with his manicured fingertip before it vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. A jerk ensued as the metal box slowly began its descent of the twenty-story company building.
Time dragged as the elevator rolled through the chute with the utmost caution, each floor prompting a new red number to flip above the enclosed doors. 20, 19, 18,17. Another ding echoed around the suited man's head as the elevator came to a stop. The compartment doors glided open and in waddled a stout middle-aged fellow with greasy, slicked blonde hair. Luke's lips curled in a pleasant smirk as the elevator doors rolled shut and they resumed their journey down. "Good evening, Mr. Monroe." He gave a curt nod to the new arrival. A grunt was heard in response as the older man studied his cell phone with a disgruntled expression.
Mr. Monroe was the head manager of the financial department for the company. He specialized in increasing the company's revenue and doing everything in his power to keep incoming profits high and resource costs low. A very sneaky and manipulative position, and the middle-aged millionaire was the perfect fit for the job. Luke liked him very much. The younger entrepreneur cleared his throat before addressing the older man again. "Mr. Monroe, how is the deal with Reiners coming along? I expect you've gotten the opposing side to agree to our terms in the negotiation?" This seemed to pique the stout man's interest and he lifted his fatty chin from his device. "Yes, yes. Once I convinced them that they would be benefiting more than we would in this deal," a scoff interrupted his explanation, coupled with a smug grin, "they readily complied with all of our terms." The man looked proud of his accomplishment; his sausage fingers hooked in his expensively sewn suit pockets triumphantly. A chuckle countered from the younger male's lips and he congratulated Mr. Monroe on his accomplishment. Happy as he was now, he would still go home and down his pills with the full flask of whisky on the counter in his empty renovated mansion, Luke knew. Their mundane, pointless chatter quickly ended as the elevator halted again and ushered the fat chap out of its hold. The doors closed and Luke continued his descent, alone again.
13, 12, 11...
Again, it stopped. A sigh breathed from Luke's pursed lips. The elevator shuddered as its doors slid open, this time to reveal a short, skinny, weasel-faced man nervously twisting the handle of his suitcase. "M-Mr. Iffer, sir!" He chirruped, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously as he shuffled to stand beside the other male. The doors closed again and down the box went. The tension in the metal compartment was thick as butter as it radiated off of the weasel-man with a vengeance. Carl was his name; a boot-licking, butt-kissing director's assistant who had climbed the ranks of employment by sucking up to every upper-class employee he knew, including Luke. The younger man--in his early twenties, with Luke looking no more than thirty--had proven to be of interest to the superior male. Though he was a far cry from the conniving, cunning, and unscrupulous ways of the previous elevator-rider, Mr. Monroe, he still possessed some redeeming unprincipled qualities. The way he managed to consistently cheat on his sorry wife with the sexy dame in his office quarters especially tickled Luke's fancy. "Relax, Carl. We're all on the same side here," the dark-haired superior assured him warmly, giving him a sly wink. A nervous titter erupted from the mousy man. "O-of course, Mr. Iffer! Thank you!" Soon the steel doors opened wide again and Carl hurriedly scuffled out of the elevator, leaving Luke to himself once more. The pulleys creaked a whirred as the thick metal box declined the expanse of the skyscraper. Incessant elevator music hummed through the overhead speaker as the numbers flashed above the door;
8, 7, 6...
Another lurch. Another ding. This time, a beautiful 5'7'' redhead dressed in a modest grey dress and four-inch stilettos entered the depths of the steel-aluminum giant. A frown tugged at the corners of Luke's lips. Grace Tippet, a mere secretary with a heart of gold and a breathtaking smile. Frequent church-going, charity-giving, prudish young lady with a tongue of milk and honey. Everything that Luke abhorred. The woman gave Mr. Iffer a warm smile. "Hello, Mr. Iffer. Lovely evening, isn't it?" Her voice was syrupy sweet, and not in the fake, crafty sort of way that one uses to get what they want. Genuine. Disgusting. The dark-haired man gave a cool nod as the elevator descended at an agonizingly slow pace. Finally, the lift stopped, and the red numbers shone a bright and relieving number one. "God bless!" Grace waved at Luke, whose face twisted in utter disgust at the phrase. He glared at her receding form until the metal doors slid shut in front of him. Even while being on the ground floor, the elevator began to move...downwards. The atmosphere in the box soon began to change as the music still flowing through the speaker distorted, and eventually silenced. Down and down the elevator went, faster now than it had before as the metal began to creak and groan at the drastic spike in temperature. The man stood calmly at the center of the box, an unperturbed whistle floating carelessly from his lips.
Finally, the concluding lurch of the night brought the elevator to a complete stop. The doors steadily unfurled and the tall male exited its belly. Beneath his dress shoes was a rocky terrain littered with red dust and spatters of dried blood and crushed bone residue. The temperature was scorching, and instead of the annoying elevator music he'd had to endure all twenty-one stories there were shrieks of agony and terror echoing throughout the eerie cavern. True music to Luke Iffer's ears. Or, more accurately; Lucifer's ears.
The Caucasian male unbuttoned his black suit and peeled it off of his body, now stark naked against the dim light. Inhaling the sweet aroma of tears and anguish that clung to the humidity like a fog, the man dug his fingers into the base of his neck. The skin stretched and pared off of his scarlet undercoat as he shed the disguise and hung it on a coat rack a few feet away from where he was standing. A sigh of relief ensued from his lips as he rolled his head and massaged his shoulders. He continued to remove the blue contacts from his crimson irises and stripped down to his bare, natural body he used to rule the Underworld. The devil slipped on a dark cloak over his blood-colored skin as he inhaled sharply, turned, and finally entered his domain.
Behind him, the thick metal elevator closed its steel doors and groaned against the sweltering, sultry heat as it began its ascent back to the world above; all so it could return again the next morning for the boring, everyday businessman who was Luke Iffer.
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