A place where the existence of time was naught, and the world was cold and dark and cruel. And yet for the monsters who ruled over time, it was nothing short of home. There was but simple pleasures in life; their barren wasteland of a world meant little to the time demons. Never mind that world was devoid of life, that it was mostly embodied by water, or that each and every inhabitant was nude without shame. They took pleasure in traveling in time, returning with interesting trinkets they had obtained and adorning themselves in the finest clothes. Those who were reluctant to leave their sanctuary were told fantastic stories of buildings that reached to the heavens in one era, and the reign of flying cars from another.
The head of the demonic brethren, Mace, prided himself as a great journeyman, surrounding himself with all of his material gifts. There was never a day that went without Mace engaging in fights with what he considered his lesser counterparts, or that he was fucking every female his eyes met. Yet, mysteriously, Mace avoided confrontation with a special demon, something which the other members of the species noticed. A lanky, well-dressed individual offered a cigarette he had obtained to the special demon in order to spark conversation.
"That mother fucker is scared shitless of you, Luka," the lanky demon would laugh, puffing smokes from the tiny cigarette. "I'd like to see what's got his panties in a bunch. Go one round with him."
Luka tapped the cigarette, the ashes falling into the lanky demon's hair. He jumped up in a frenzy, patting his head frantically while cursing. "Fuck, Luka! Shit!" The demon continued his panic attack until Luka actually cackled.
"Go screw Mace if your so enamored with him," Luka spat, throwing the remaining cigarette into the ocean water behind him. He leapt off the rock which he sat upon, walking over to the lanky demon. The demon, noticing Luka's approach, turned away in a frustrated huff.
"Jesus fuck, Luka, you're one impossible bastard. Not to mention cocky. Literally." He shed his overcoat, handing it to Luka behind him. "Not that your monstrously big dick bothers me, but flaunting it is not gonna kick Mace's ass."
"I'm not fighting Mace," hissed Luka, batting away the coat. The lanky demon tilted his head towards Luka in surprise. A malicious smile carved itself into the flawless face of Luka Lanterogue. "I'm gonna kill him."
They say it was a sight to behold. Upon returning from a voyage to modern day Paris, Mace's gaze met that of Luka strutting across his throne of material goods and dressed in Mace's black tank top and jeans. Noticing Mace's return, Luka smiled, his eyes burning with a dormant desire for blood.
Mace was livid. "Fuck off, Luka. That's my territory your waltzing on, princess." The ferocity in his voice, though present, was small and it instantly was confirmed to each time demon that Mace truly did fear Luka. Luka himself laughed at this realization.
"I want you to make me, Mace," growled Luka, poising eagerly in anticipation of a fight. Mace, hesitantly, stepped forward and instantly the two were engaged in mortal combat. Compared to Mace's rough, strong attacks, Luka was light on his feet and while his attacks were small, they were critical and graceful. Within the crowd of onlookers swooned every female every moment Luka would flex his muscles fiercely to attack Mace, the shirt tight against his skin. He paid no mind to them, his entire focus on Mace, who's strong attacks began to falter out of exhaustion. Seeing this, Luka saw the opportunity to strike. He called upon all his power and thrust a powerful blow to Mace's throat, ultimately severing his head. The scene dissolved slowly before the spectators as Mace's head flew from his body, landing loudly upon the dead Earth, and his body slumping dead onto the ground. Perhaps it was shock that Mace had actually been slain, but it can be agreed that the true astonishment was borne from the disbelief that Luka had actually slain his older brother...
