starter for @azafell
"Shit. Shit!"
It was well past midnight as the Bentley tore through London, but Crowley knew that wouldn't matter. The angel enjoyed a good many human delights, but sleep was rarely one of them. Frankly, even if he was asleep, Crowley would have no qualms about waking him. Not tonight. Bigger things to worry about than a couple hours of shut eye.
It had happened so quickly. He'd been in his Mayfair flat, misting a ficus, and the next thing he knew, the shadows around him were growing, moving, coming for him, swallowing him up and then---
"Ĉ̵̢̗̦͓̖͚͜ r̵̙̼͓̓̄̿́ ö̵̟͇͚̳̱̞́͒ w̴̪͓͔̋̐̆͜ l̵̻̣̖̅͋̀̈́̽̂ ȇ̸̛̩̪̻̹̈̅̀͑ͅ y̵͔̭͛̅͜͠."
He'd found himself in Hell. No official summons, no warning. Of course no warning, Hell didn't do courtesy. One minute you're minding your own business, the next you're dropped in front of Beelzebub and the Dukes of Hell...
With a screech, the Bentley whipped into a parking space in front of A. Z. FELL & CO.
Practically leaping from his car, Crowley made haste for the front door. This time of night, it would certainly be locked, so he knocked. Perhaps 'knocked' was too polite a word for it. It was an incessant, anxious, yet somehow hushed pounding of his knuckles against the heavy wooden door.
"Open up, Angel," he hissed through gritted teeth. "It's an emergency!"
