Lollita
Legacy Name: Lollita

Full Name: Lollita Aurchhim Lane
Nicknames: Madame Lollita, Lola
Age:18
Gender:Female
Height: 5'7
Weight: 67kg
Family: Linguine (best mate), Kikneri (best mate's wife).
Likes: Flowers, Romance, Jewelry, Tight-fitting clothes, Crystal balls.
Dislikes: Getting possesed by her demon.
Fears: The demon taking permanent control of her body.
Scars/Injuries: Several claw-like scars on her back.
Sexuality: Straight

You arrive on a narrow alleyway, your footsteps crunching against the cobblestone-lined path. Discarded newspapers and empty coffee cups flutter past your ankles, fuelled on by the breeze. Walking on further, you shiver in the cold city weather, but continue, for you’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long, long time.

You glance down at the slip of parchment resting on your palm. It reads,

Madame Lollita’s Paranormal Services-
Get a genuine insight into your future- love, life, finance, friendship and all the twists and turns ahead- Madame Lollita can foresee all!
She specialises in Tarot, Palm, Astrology and Crystal Ball readings.
Come by 333 Yargot and Fifth, Centropolis- watch out for the neon sign.
No need to book an appointment- Madame Lollita knows when you will be arriving.

As you glance up again, you see it- a fluorescent pink sign to your near right. She’s got to be in there, you think.

You hurry up the concrete steps to the wooden door and open it, taking notice of the thin trail of salt that lines the outside of the steps. A mass of sparkly beads engulf you as you step through the entrance. The purple-painted room that greets you is warmly heated- and very welcoming.

“I’m awaiting your presence in the next room,” drifts voice from up ahead. The voice sounds young, feminie, and alluring, all at the same time.

You shuffle to the next room, exited. A slip of paper, the one you currently hold in your hands, was mailed to you yesterday. Since you’re a sucker for the mysterious and paranormal, you couldn’t resist a visit.

Crossing into the next room, you see her- and gasp. She is beautiful, and yet she doesn’t look one year older than 18. She’s clothed in a silky crimson crop top and tight black jeans that accentuate her perfect, voluptuous figure and sculpted stomach. Around her neck are layers upon layers of various-coloured beads, and her wild, chocolate, thick mane of curls droop across her shoulders.

“Sit,” she instructs, pointing to the stool opposite the other side of the green table. You do so without hesitation.

“I know you are wishing to discover your future career endeavours. Am I correct?”

You nod, and smile. She’s right.

She breathes in slowly, dramatically, and closes her eyes. Her arm stretch out on the table, like her hands are manipulating an invisible puppet.

“You’ve done well to get to where you’re headed. I see an opportunity ahead- one of great promise, to rise above and prove to the world of your talent. Just beware of dodgy car salesmen, and you shall be fine.”

She opens her eyes and extends a palm in your face, a greedy expression plastered on her own. “Now your payment, please.”

You feel disappointed as you reach for the coins in your pocket and drop them into her awaiting hand. This psychic was built up to be different, amazingly accurate- but all she did was give a little spiel that could be interpreted for anyone and in many ways.

You mumble a gruff, “Thank you,” and make out to leave your seat. As soon as your bottom leaves the top of the stool, though, Madame Lollita’s eyes glaze over. You see her quiver, then shake, and then convulse- toppling right out of her chair and landing with a thick whack against the hard wooden floorboards. You immediately panic; rushing to her side and laying a hand on her spasmastistically-shaking head.

“Madame Lollita? Can you hear me?” and then you say to yourself, “Crap, I need to call an ambulance!”

Before you have time to whip out your mobile phone, however, Madame Lollita is suddenly still. Her eyes, although still glazed, seem to bore straight through your skull. You shiver.

“Come in closer,” she commands- her voice is alarmingly deep, a voice so chilling it sends the floor beneath trembling. It embodies no resemblance to the femininely-alluring tone used before. You immediately obey.

“Do you really believe He cares about your future career plans? Ha!” she guffaws maliciously. Her voice is tinged with a faint metallic sound. “You are, of course, to take part in His apocalypse, damned mortal of the flesh-crawling earth.”

Her eyes shine blood-red now, and her eyebrows narrow.

“Lucifer requires presence of you soon for a position, speaking of careers. You perhaps should make a useful vessel for his chosen assistant.”

Her eyes close.

“Yet, this is of no relevance to yourself just now. Bid it will come in good time. Consider this a warning: do not displease us patrons of hell ‘till then, for shall the worst of all grisly punishments befall upon you. Now, good riddance, dumb slave. My home is drawing me back.”

Madame Lollita convulses a few times, whilst charcoal smoke pours from her mouth. It rises up out the fireplace behind her as if it is desperately trying to flee the place. After the last wisp of smoke leave, she is then silent.

You are frozen for a few moments, still attempting to absorb all this information about this Lucifer guy, and vessels, and the Apocalypse, when Madame Lollita slowly awakens from unconsciousness. She blinks a few times, and then viewing the horrified look upon your face, her eyes widen.

“No, no, no, oh no, no no!” she stammers, instantly upon her feet. She hoists you up with her.

“He asked you to be a vessel, didn’t he?” she hurriedly enquires, grasping your shoulders and shaking them. “Answer me, please!”

“Yes!” you gasp finally, and she swears. Her hands let go of you and instead land on her cheeks.

“He did it again, that freakin’ demon!” She looks up at the sky and curses. “Why me?!”

By this point, you’re more than a little scared. You start to gradually retreat backwards. Unfortunately for you, she notices.

“Stop!” You’ll die if you leave now!”

She rushes over to a cupboard and hastily pulls out a few items, dropping them into a transparent carry-bag for you to see.

“You’ll need these if you want to survive.”

As she hands you the bag with all of them items, you spot the whiskey nestled on top.

“What’s the alcohol for?” you enquire, although a million other more important questions are whizzing through your head.

She laughs darkly. “It’ll be your outlet.” Once the bag is firmly in your hands, she leans in close to you.

“Look, I never meant to bring you into this way of life. But once you’ve been branded, you’re going to have to fight every son-of-a-bitch demon out there, okay?”

Even though you’re so confused, and scared, and worried, and angry, and hurt, and a million other things, you simply nod.

“Good. Thank you. Oh, and by the way, just call me Lola from now on, ok?” Another nod.

Lola hands you a slip of paper with names and numbers.

“Here’s some of my hunters in contact. I’d start with Bobby, he’s one to teach you the basics. As for the others further down the list, I should you should only have to make acquaintance with them in the most desperate of situations.” She glances to the side and pouts her mouth as if she’s trying to remember something. “Oh!” she adds, “If you ever hear about a bounty on a certain hunter named Sam Winchester, do not, I repeat not, try to track him down. He’s on our side. That’s about all, I think.”

She gives you one long, searching look before shooing you.

“Now get going. I’ll give Bobby a call so he can ring you and let you know where he is. Good luck.”

.

Story copyright@Madzs, 2011. Sam Winchester + Bobby + Lucifer copyright@Warner Bros. Televison