Chapter 20 : Do Not Go Gentle

"Fuck me!" I was trying not to look down at the city far below me. The cars looked like ants marching along a green pathway through a dark jungle. I screamed, I knew I did, but the rush of the wind over my ears blocked it from reaching me. Brick bit into my raw palms, and the slate roof was surprisingly slippery to walk on when barefoot and like a million stories up. But, I'm pretty sure if I wasn't so batshit terrified, my red dress flowing in the wind would have made me look like one of those high-class models in quality production luxury perfume ad. No. 5 the Film style, ladies and gents! The office of the former Mayor of Cibola City erupted in literal hellfire, taking half the domed glass ceiling and all the stability of what I was standing on with it. A fiend made of an unholy amalgamation of one Duke of Hell and one partially possessed of one Ethridge Coolidge Alston Jr.—sorry, Ethridge Coolidge Alston Sr., as it turned out he was a Faustian contract-having bastard (I ca