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Your name is John Egbert, and you’re in dire need of some help. Crockercorp, the company you’ve been raised into, is damn near taking over the world. There’s only so much a solo prankster can realistically do, heir to the company or not. Legal or illegal, most typical avenues of securing aid are unavailable to you thanks to the sheer influence of Crockercorp - they’d either rat you out or get bought out by your superiors very quickly. Thus, you’ve chosen to turn to something you can’t be prevented from seeking - the help of demons.
Most people don’t go the way you’re going. The cost of summoning a demon, far more than monetary, is prohibitively high - very rarely worth the trade. But you’re desperate enough to try. You have an idea that’s either brilliant or completely stupid. You’re not sure which, but there’s only one way to find out. For one particular demon, high amongst the ranks with power over time and an anti-authoritarian streak, the cost to call him to you is several hundred lives. They must be sacrificed for him with the intent to do so. This would be an instant deal-breaker without some sort of workaround. You’re no murderer, especially not of literal hundreds of people…or animals, as the spell didn’t specify what you’d need to sacrifice. Only several hundred living things.
But, for a biologist by hobby, if not by trade, that’s a loophole just big enough for you to pry something out of. “Living things” is a pretty broad category when you think about it. Lots of things fit the definition. Bugs, parasites, individual cells, and most relevantly, bacteria. You’ve got plenty of access to Petri dishes and bacteria cultures, and having enough living bacteria is a non-issue. Even bringing home the harmless strain you chose is no big deal, no questions asked. And thus, your plan takes shape - you’re desperate, so you’ll try and sacrifice several hundred bacteria and hope against hope that it works. After all, it seems like the worst that can happen is nothing at all or a smoke alarm. Or an offended demon with power over time, but you highly doubt he’d be pissed if it works.
The summoning circle is intricate to set up, as is the ritual overall - you’re lucky Crockercorp doesn’t pay much attention to what you do so long as you’re not disturbing anything. You have the house to yourself, and what little monitoring is placed on you is, in practice, trivial to get around. You even dismantle the smoke detector for extra prevention, so you don’t have to worry about it going off while trying to focus. The summoning can be done undisturbed by the people monitoring you. True to the requirements of the ritual, you place your petri dish within the circle and light the contents on fire with a match - flame, apparently, is how one reaches this particular demon.
For a moment, nothing of much interest happens. The flame is meager, with not much to burn. You worry it’s not enough, that nothing will happen, and you’ll need to find another way to get some help - and then the flames roar up, supernaturally high, giving off a massive plume of smoke and casting the room in red light. It fades slowly, and the smoke drifts away, forcing you to blink the daze out of your eyes. Once you do, you see a figure poised within the circle. The petri dish sits - somewhat charred - between their feet. They’re a bit taller than you, with red-black feathery wings, faintly glowing red eyes, and curving horns jutting from nearly white hair.
It’s cliche, but you still jerk back, startled at the sudden appearance of an entire person in your room. You expected it, but it’s still startling. They smirk and look around the room appraisingly. The light from the candles illuminates their face just enough to make out sharp fangs as they give you a humorless smile.
“So. Another mortal made the sacrifice to call me here?” He - as your mind, apropos of seemingly nothing, informs you - asks, surveying his surroundings.
Slowly, the smile falls away, replaced by what you can only guess is confusion.
“Where’s the sacrifice?”
A little short on words, you indicate the petri dish between his feet, and he kneels down to check it out.
“Wait…you sacrificed a petri dish full of bacteria or some shit? And it worked?” He asks, incredulous.
“…Yeah. I apologize if it’s offensive, but…this was urgent, and I don’t know who else to ask or who else could help,” You reply, silently praying he isn't angry.
Instead of flying into a rage, he breaks into a startlingly genuine grin.
“No, don’t apologize. This fucking rules, man. I hate that requirement. It makes me only ever get summoned by total pieces of shit. This shit is revolutionary, dude. Just for that, I’m calling whatever you’re asking for on the house,” he answers, standing back up.
You try not to act as ecstatic or shocked as you are that not only did it work, but the demon is…happy about it.
“It’s a big ask, I mean…my great grandmother is trying to take over the world. She is also a fish alien who runs a huge corporation and may or may not be immortal. And I need to stop her,” you explain, a little hesitant.
It is, in fact, a big issue you’re asking for help with. Not exactly one befitting of burning a petri dish in a roomful of candles and asking nicely for help.
“Oh. That is a pretty big fucking ask, dude.” His eyes cast about the room again as if for ideas.
“Say what. You’re smart, and you seem pretty interesting. Your deal is selfless and neat; maybe I can get my siblings in on this one. Gimme your number and some shades because I’m stupidly light-sensitive, and we can call it even. The real prize I’m getting out of this is knowing that I can be summoned with some fucking microbes instead of animals or entire people killed en mass. Maybe you can help me figure out some loopholes for my siblings too, and if you can get at least one, I’ll give you some extra shit,” he proposes, giving you an easy smile - you don’t doubt he knows that’s the easiest yes you will ever say in your life.
Inside, you’re all but hyperventilating. You’re getting everything you want and possibly more for the price of a phone number, some shades, and some optional rules lawyering that you know Jane will love helping you with. You try to keep it cool, though - there’s no reason to embarrass yourself.
“I can do that! I have some shades I don’t want - they’re from Ben Stiller?” You offer, half-turning to snag them off the table you left them on.
He smiles more, fangs on full display - seeming less intimidating now than a couple of minutes ago.
“Sounds fucking sweet. My name is Dave, by the way.” He extends his hand to shake yours.
“Mine is John,” you answer and shake his hand.
You have a really, really good feeling about this. Now all you have to hope is that he’s as skilled as your books made the demon seem.