Murdoc Works at Chick-fil-a

El Diablo's Demise and the Deal with the Devil

It was a pretty successful session, and they got done perfectly recording their newest song, with Murdoc killing it on the strings of his bass. There was something always satisfying with finally completing a song just right, especially when there's soul put into it, although it was tiring.
Murdoc had just finished a killer bass solo, vigorously strumming the strings with what little heart and soul he had, when all of a sudden... Snap! The strings had broken right off. Now, these strings were irreplaceable, the one and only strings he had that had Beelzebub's touch, now broken and bent in his hands. Where the bloody hell was he going to get a bass as special as El Diablo? He only knew one guy who had connections to such a glorious instrument, and that was the Big Guy down below. The special edition bass was given to Murdoc from him, and he could very well get another, but the guy was always trying to strike some sketchy deals. Last time it was his soul, and that didn't work out well. Murdoc's part of the deal was long overdue, and he knew he'd be pretty damn steamed if he went down there begging for a new bass without even making his first trade. Unfortunately, it was the only chance he had, though, if he ever wanted his precious bass back.

He slowly made his way to the underworld of sin, Hell itself.  It gave him memories. Ah, just like old times. The rancid place had hardly changed at all through all this time. He remembered it all; The tormented souls, the excruciating heat, the bitter smell of burning flesh. It all flashed into his mind, a clear memory.

He walked through the landscape, every corner another screaming victim of sin. Hell was large,but it wasn't long until he was face to face with Him. The king of all evil, who stood as tall as a skyscraper, and yet he wasn't terrified of him at all. He tricked the bloke before, why couldn't he trick him again?

"Ah, look who's back." The Beast said, his voice booming and deep.

"Yeah about that..." Murdoc said, hesitantly. He held up his bass with the now broken strings. "I sorta had a mishap and I need this to be fixed. I can't go without it, ya'know."

"I knew you'd come back for something as foolish at that." The devil sneered. "Although, I'll see what I can do. You know the routine."

"Yeah yeah" He replied, almost mockingly. "I get what I want, I give you my soul blah blah blah."

"Yes, and I haven't gotten my fair trade yet from your first request. Don't think you can avoid that either like you did last time."

Murdoc groaned. "Mate mate mate... This stuff takes time. My soul isn't ready yet. Give me time, I swear I'll make my payments to you, I just-"

"Silence!" His deathly voice boomed, shaking the ground. "I'll give you time, I'll give you a week. I've been doing this since the dawn of time. You're but a speck on my timeline, nothing significant. You can't outsmart me, I know all the tricks in the book. I'll give you a week to recruit people. Lead them to a life of sin. Show them my ways. If you can't do that, I get both your soul AND the bass back."

"Seems easy enough. Chaps on the street are already dumb enough to follow whatever I say just cause I'm a celebrity."

"I should mention that these aren't just any people. These are people already set in their ways. See, you'll be posing as a worker at Chick-Fil-A. Of course, you're not one, but you'll be pretending to be one. Get a job there and see if you can drive these people to madness."

"So it's like a spy mission, eh? I'm like the satanist James Bond?"

"No." He yelled, his voice once again booming. "Just do what I say and leave my sight. I have actual work to get done and I can't fiddle around with idiots like you." He took the bass, covering it with his large hands. Forming it, the strings were then fixed. He snapped his fingers in success, and handed it to Murdoc.

"Don't screw this up. Your life depends on it." He uttered, as the Zombie-like man trekked his way back to the mortal world.

Murdoc walked out of the mouth of hell, his bass clasped tightly in his fist, ready for his mission. How hard could it be to recruit a few blokes?