Baby Blue was standing in front of a mouldy-looking wall, signs of depilation. Well, he didn't expect anything better from an abandoned kindergarten. He wasn't too sure of what happened to the place before it became run down, but investigating old buildings was not his purpose here. No sir, Blue was here to make a pact with a sentient weapon he will soon be summoning. Using the summon circle he found from the avoided shelves in the school library. Drawn with chalk. Blue chalk. Well, there goes nothing. The dirty-blonde began chanting, somewhat not buying this would work.

And, for a while, his suspicions were well enough grounded. No blood ran from the walls, and his voice sounded startlingly mundane in the still room, no more supernatural than the once-loved plushes huddled in the corner, as if for warmth. When the panelled floor gave its first hints of smoulder, the smoke was thin and faint.

But reckless teenage book donors have keen eyes for the good stuff, and Baby Blue was not to be let down.


"MH-H-H-H-HE," insisted the pale beige goat kid, too young to be good at folding its legs and thus settling down in a loose and lanky sprawl, its sunglasses already tilting. "Mh-h-h-y apologies for the wait, mister! He-h-h-ll Highway 36 is a little conge-h-h-sted right now, and since you didn't offer a sacrifice, Purgatory Inc. can only offer minimal servi-h-h-ce!" bleated the little demon, with the faint quaver of rehearsed lines. Then, more apologetically than her manager would approve of, "...I'm an intern. How can we he-h-h-lp you?"

Baby Blue stood there in shock, or was it horror? The goat that he had summoned was speaking to him, asking how he was able to be of service. Was this the sentient weapon that he had summoned?

"I... was making a pact, a demonic pact that is, with a weapon," he started, still looking at the goat with curiosity, "Are you that weapon?"

The more Baby Blue thought about it, the more he wondered if he had actually succeeded in summoning a demon instead. He pulled out a piece of paper that held his notes, checking over what he had done and making sure he followed through the ritural correctly.

"Uh, nope," ventured the goat, more confident now that the chance of botching her lines was over, but not too keen on the idea of being a weapon. "I'm just me-h-h-se-h-h-enger thirty-six-jay. I, uh, fix up paperwork mostly. We-h-h-pons are a bit out of my league." Messenger 36-J tried to paw at the blue heptagrams lining the circle, but they were quite tightly sealed, so she stood up in the center like a good receptionist.

And like a good receptionist, the sight of rustling paper was unsettling.

"Um, Mr. Blue? You aren't planning to sue us or anything, right?"