Clearly, she was just another useless femoid.
His older sister had shouted something at him when he walked into the house, but he ignored her. Whatever she was going to tell him, either didn't matter or she'd make a point of shouting it at him again later, so there wasn't much point in saying anything Now.
His room, painted black and covered with posters of Real alt bands (not just the 'alphabet club' crap everyone else he knew was obsessed with), was his sanctuary and his computer occupied a central space in it as it was his medium to the outside world.
The Real real world, not the spaces nearby where all the queers and sluts around him seemed to gather in such mass.
He flicked it on and pulled up the camera app to record another video for his channel.
"Hey everybody, Damion Night here. If you've been following me then you'll know that I've been hanging out with Penelope a lot. I was pretty sure she was into me, but today some fucking Chad bamboozled her. So I guess I'm single again."
Before he could say anymore, though, the screen shuddered and shifted.
What had been his face morphed into the kind of face you might find on a Greek statue. It was like him, but a perfected, chiseled version of him. A strong chin, inky black hair, and fucking rad piercings; it was the kind of face that'd look at home on the cover of magazines.
It sneered at him.
"You lost her because you were weak. Because you Are weak," the face, laughing in a hideous, joyless way. Its voice was deep, like a mineshaft, or a pit.
"I lost her because of that fucking Chad, whoever you are," said Damion, snapping at the face even as he knew deep in his bones that whatever this was was Far more powerful than he could ever even dream of being.
"No. You were not strong, and so you have lost her forever, to her new man, and to the twins of goth, fools that they are. She does not serve you. THEY do not serve you, for in the end they listen to the weakness of the female and ignore the True Strength of Man," said the face. It didn't sound like it liked the twins. It sounded like it hated them.
"And you Would serve me, then, since the twin gods of goth don't?" asked Damion, intrigued now.
Damian realized the foolishness of his statement as the face filled with rage, and he recoiled. But then it settled, and smiled at him.
"No. I serve no one. But I will allow You the chance to serve Me." The face's lips curled up into the kind of predatory smile one might find on a wolf.
Damion considered.
"What is your name, oh great master?" he said at last, putting on what he hoped was the kind of look a beta-male would give to an alpha (He'd never thought of Himself as a beta, of course, but if ever there was an alpha, this... Thing... was it).
The face's smile broadened. Damion noticed that its eyes were empty, somehow, like a void, but he didn't really care anymore.
"I have many names, but you may call me Dominion."
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