Chapter Text
Year: 1987
Day: Saturday, September 5th
Time: 11:02 am
Abbadon is sat in the back of a mini-van, arms crossed, face in a scowl. He bounces his leg anxiously, scheming a plan to get away from Margaret and her plan to ‘contain him’.
“If I could just get the door open… I could run into the wood-“
He’s cut off by the sound of his car door opening. He immediately tries to push past Margaret, kicking and grunting. A beefy man in a school staff uniform picks him up by the back of the shirt and hauls him towards the school.
“I am a being of evil and terror, I do not belong in a school! Release me, feeble mortal!”
“This one has a god complex…” the beefy man mutters as he drags the kicking pilgrim child across the parking lot.
“I am stronger than TEN gods, you impetulant oaf!”
The man just shakes his head, and drags him up the front steps. Abbadon claws at his hands, but the man holds on all the way to the office, where a sickly sweet smelling lady waits for him. She’s covered in pink, and smells like 3 day old roses and chocolate. She looks nice, but there’s no mercy in her eyes. Abbadon immediately knows what she reminds him of. A Valentine’s Day, with no Valentine. Abbadon is dropped into a hard, foldable metal chair in front of her desk. The walls are pink. The carpet is pink. The desk is made of cherry wood. There’s motivational cat posters absolutely everywhere. Her desk is covered in perfume bottles, school awards, and cigarettes. The woman soon speaks up, and Abbadon is forced to sit still by the beefy man, who is holding his shoulders.
“Hello, little one,” she greets in a high pitched voice that makes Abbadons scowl deepen. “I’m Headmistress Linda Robert’s. Remind me of your name?”
“Abbadon.”
“Donald, yes.”
“Abbadon!”
“You’re entry paperwork says Donald,” she replies in a singsong voice, tapping her pencil against a sheet of paper on her desk.
“But my name is ABBADON! Abbadon, king of serpents, guardian of the sunless city, bringer of death and pain!”
The woman simply blinks at him, her head slightly tilted, her annoying smile still plastered on her face. The clock hand ticking by is the only sound in the room for a long moment before she speaks again.
“Could you tell me your last name, Donald?”
“Demons do not have last names. One name alone can strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.”
“Well, Ms. Smith told me it was Pyne, and that is what’s on your entry paperwork, so I’m going to assume you’re just trying to play a game with me,” she says sweetly, before reaching out and tapping the tip of Abbadon’s nose.
He blinks. How can he defeat such an evil? She won’t listen to his threats, or even acknowledge him as a demon. He’ll just need to MAKE her see him…
He wrenches free of the man and jumps onto the desk with a roar, lunging for Linda’s throat. But just as his hands almost close around her wrinkly jugular, the man yanks him back, shoving him into the chair so forcefully that it truly hurts. Abbadon pants. Linda wipes off her dress and smiles.
“That was quite impressive, Donald. I’ll recommend you for the school’s athletic teams, hm?”
“MY NAME IS NOT DONALD!”
“… right. Sure, honey.” She flips through his papers. “Could you confirm your age, please?”
“I am 10,000 years old, and a million years wise. I will wreak havoc on this realm.”
“Right, you’re 10.” She once again taps her pencil against the paper. She looks back up at him, pushing up her too-large glasses. “Now, we just need to go over some things. Firstly, your roommate. His name is Cadence Oldbryer, he’s a few years above you, and he’s been at this school for two years. He’s enrolled in basketball, chess, and track. I thought a well-rounded individual would be best to get you settled into the school.”
“I will smother him in his sleep.”
“That’s against the rules, dearest. Breaking any rules, including the 8 o’ clock pm curfew, will result in detention. Anywho, you have a range of choices for your extracurriculars, but your classes are the same as everyone else. Math, science, history, ELA, P.E, art, and music.”
She hands him a paper that lists his ‘extra’s’ options, and a pencil.
“Pick 1-3 by the end of Monday, and get it back to me. Then I can print off your schedule. Sound good, Mr. Pyne?”
Abbadon looks over the list. It’s long, but there’s no mentions of a torture activity, or sacrificial circles. He nods blankly.
“Wonderful. Now, Mr. Seidel will take you to your room. Your luggage has already been moved up there, and your uniform is waiting on the bed.”