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Request: “Would you write… for The Man in Black from… Demons (1985), where he is giving a… ticket to the reader, who has some dirty thoughts about him, and after she escapes a demon pandemic in the cinema, she encounters him once more, but this time, even he has very dirty thoughts about her?”

Imagine sharing your dirty thoughts with the Man in the Mask.

If it hadn’t been for Cheryl’s expression, you would have thought the handsome man was a figment of your imagination.

At that moment, sitting listlessly across from her and staring up out the train’s window, you didn’t know either of their names. But you were to be properly introduced later that day. Or improperly, in Jerry’s case. The “Man in the Mask” seemed a fitting moniker until then.

When you did meet, in the flesh, he wordlessly handed you a ticket. Metal covered nearly half his handsome face. A marketing stunt for some horror flick, huh?

Pretty cool to meet one of the lead actors that way! you thought as Jerry and friends encroach on Nostradamus’s tomb.

The mask must have been kept on with costume glue; there weren’t any straps. His lips were free. Left eye obscured by bars. In the Metropol’s lobby, you stared, transfixed, at the other mask hanging on the motorcycle display. Jerry’s mask’s complete twin. More restrictive. No nostrils, both eyeholes and mouth caged. Imagine if he’d been wearing that at the station!

Somehow, you managed to survive what initially seemed to be a bloodbath confined to the theater. Turns out it’s a demon pandemic. Which you don’t realize until after Cheryl and George escape the roof. Because the man possessed by “Nostradamus” is admitting he had dirty thoughts about you on the U-Bahn.

You’re welcome, you thought, as the couple climbed out of sight. You’ve captured Jerry’s attention. Technically you could be considered his captive. But you have a mask kink which even a mass demonic possession can’t extinguish. Thinking back on it later, he would have killed Cheryl and George if your presence hadn’t distracted him.

“You weren’t really on the train with me?” You smiled coyly. “I saw you through the window.”

“I scried you.”

“I thought Nostradamus was mainly an astrologer.”

“Jerry” chuckled. “I am not he.”

Maybe he decided it was best for you not to learn a demon’s name, because he didn’t give it. If he was a demon and not a necromancer, you guessed, who’d overshadowed Jerry’s body.

When you got off on the same stop as Cheryl, you considered shadowing her. None of the other passengers gave any indication they’d seen a figure in the glass. She held a book of sheet music to her chest. You could BS a conversation about Mikrokosmos. Before subtly inquiring if she knew what she saw was supernatural. But then footfalls accompanied by metal clanking scared her off.

There was the Man in the Mask ambling. Holding a cable and a small net bag full of… tickets?

Just like that he disappeared! You weren’t naive enough to believe he could be anything but a magician. Even in an unfamiliar train station you could tell occult from mundane.

The Man had planned that meeting. Maybe had even chosen the demons’ vessels because of their proximity to you. The thought turned you on. And you told him so.

“Good guess.” Jerry stepped closer. Close enough to touch, if he wanted.

“I was hoping… Well, I wouldn’t have minded you emptying out the car,” you admitted. Can you make everyone else disappear, if you want to? What was the full extent of his power? “And maybe restraining my wrists with the rope.”

“Would you have liked it if I sent the demons into the passengers’ bodies? To help restrain you?” His tone indicated he’d fantasized about it.

“Maybe not.” You made a face. “That green gunk around their mouths.”

The Man chuckled again. “What did you think of the film?”

“Well, I wanted your character to bend me over his bike while ‘Save Our Souls’ played,” you answered truthfully again. Throughout the conversation, there’d been a demonic understone to his voice. Deeper than what Jerry normally sounded like. You bet he grunted real loud, too.

“You behind me, breasts pressed against my back, vibrations from the engine-”

You gasped. It couldn’t be helped. He smirked. Pleased at how wet you were from words alone. His words.