Deep underneath a large American city, within the abandoned train network. Man seated inside a spotless office. A sparkling desk that held his reflection. Sat on fancy hair that is two sizes too big. Complete alien to the surrounding filth. No grease, moss, or sludge could be found in these small quarters. Even had a dim peppermint scent, unfortunately it was swamp by the thick tabasco from the man cigars.
Man dressed in black tuxedo. Slick back thin black hair. Clean shaven, with a mustache that looked like two caterpillars resting over his lips. Media described the fellow in question as the man of dreams. Anyway, who actually knew called him every colorful word in the English dictionary. Whether an individual favored or loathed the man, the name was usually the same: “Walter Disney”, or “Walt” for short.
Walt had a legitimate office, where he conducted legitimate business. He prefers the location any day of the week. Unfortunately, despite being behind closed doors, it was too public. There are certain acquaintances that require more secure spaces to conduct special agreements. Tonight was a special night, a very special night. Couldn’t afford for these supposive Skippers to make a scene. Walt didn’t know them personally, but Carter never missed an opportunity to curse them to high water.
Soon enough the wooden door opens with a classy ding.
Immediately Walt closed his eyes, then began offering a friendly smile. “Hello my good man, I am here to welcome you to your deep dive into the shallow water we call humanity. Before we begin, let me address the difficulty. See, we are in a lower reality than your typical used to. So do us the kindest favor and take more… comprehensive form? One that wouldn’t drive a normal individual to absolute madness.”
“…” The being spoke in a series of unfathomable noises that echo in the human mind. Invoke a sensation of ill-gotten horrific pain. Almost like a twisted song from a lost millennium ago. One never meant for the ear of man.
Most folks would be mentally disfigured by such cosmic noises. Thankfully, his Water good buddy Carter upgraded his mind to withstand such forces. Still insufferable as all hell, leaving a bloody nose, but survivable nonetheless. “Yes, it is a neighborhood thing to do. Also, please watch your tongue. I prefer to keep this conversation professional.”
“W… H…”
“Right, right. Where are my manners?” Walt rang a large bell on his desk. “I forgot the beverages.”
At that moment a thin bald man in a wheelchair came strolling in. Wore a gray blind fold, had some protective clothing. Essential following memory from countless rehearsals. Small precaution when serving an entity from outside human understanding. Holding a plate with two lovely glasses of a scarlet drink. “Yes, yes. Got your Goat Juice right here. Yes, yes.” Place the aforementioned orphan juice drink on the desktop.
The entity took a single sip, then immediately vomited it. “Yuc… Awf… Thi…?”
Walter waved a finger. “Give you a hint. It’s in the name.” The business man then rang the bell again to tell Jerry to leave the area. Soon the wheelchair fellow left immediately.
“You mean Actually… This is from real… GROSS!” The entity retorts while practical vomiting the beverage. Sicken by the very sight of the substance. It was just that horrible.
“Well, you seem to speak fairly coherent English. I suppose we can finally talk about business. So how many souls do you require? Just know I have a soul bank nearby for whatever number you provide.”
The entity form shifted to form an illogical mess to an ink black blob. Slowly it would compact itself and the four thin lines stretched out. “Souls? Pal, do you think I’m a demon?”
“Aren’t you?”
“NO!” The entity declares in a huff of rage. Smashing it with a newly forged fist against the table. “Demons are the sickest evilest fuck ever! Don’t ever compare me to a demon!”
“HA!” Walt chuckles. “My good sir, evil is just another hollow description morons throw around. The truly enlightened folk, like myself and The Hand, are aware how silly such terminology is.”
“This coming from a man willing to sell people souls?”
“In the end, it’s Supernatural Business Ethic.”
“Look pal, I just want to make children happy. That’s it. We can talk business later down the line. Right now, I just want to know how you plan to do business. By the way, you can open your eyes now. My current form shouldn’t be able to give you mental annihilation.”
Walt opened his eyes with minor hesitation. Took a deep breath, then blink at his guest's direction. After a moment to check himself, the businessman collapsed to his chair in relief. “Sorry, I just had to be sure. Now we can talk about opportunities and our future endeavors Mister…”
“You can call me Mike.”
“Nah, MICKEY SOUND FUNNIER!” Walter declared shaking the extraordinary business partner he’ll ever meet. Truly a new dream awaits.
Five years later Walt screwed Mickey over royally, but that’s a tale for another time.