The air of Santa Somabra may have smelled slightly polluted and unremarkable to some, but to Ibzan the air smelled like a bakery full of pies, and he intended to make himself the devourer of as much of the stock as he could.

It had been nearly a century since The Urbane Devil had graced this section of America, he couldn't even recall if the city's foundations had even been set when he was last here. But those particulars were irrelevant to him, as he had eternity and time for the most part becomes meaningless to eternal beings eventually.

What mattered now was what to do? Ibzan had rented an small, unassuming apartment in the Red Light District from a building that he was pretty sure was owned by one of the crime families of the city. The Red Light District was the pounding heart, the roasting meat, the churning oven that was bringing forth the greatest sensations which the Demon was sensing. He could realistically just stay in his room and take in all of the multitudes of energy off of the flurry of emotions about him, but then where would be the fun in that? He had rented the apartment under the alias Damien Delroy, where he'd taken the form of a young male Greaser-looking fellow with boyish features but well defined muscles with slicked back hair, a leather jacket, sunglasses, and blue jeans.

Ultimately, he decided to "ease" into his new surroundings, get a feel for the local scene, try some of the local drugs, and maybe grab a few easy picking to bring home and have fun with. For unlike some of his kin, Ibzan didn't really relish constantly taking souls left and right. He found it became monotonous fast and sucked all the enjoyment out of what he was doing. Plus, finding a bunch of soulless husks stumbling around tends to draw the attention of Hunters to one's true self really fast. 

No, Ibzan loved the long games, the people who kept coming back and making his days interesting. If they became boring, then he'd forcibly take their souls, but whether it got to that point or where they actually willingly gave themselves over to him made little difference, he knew he'd always win once he had his prey hooked. He was the ultimate drug.

So, he decided to keep his current form, took a fresh bankroll of cash he had withdrawn on the way through town and put it into his pocket as he adjusted his shades and stepped out in the Red Light District. He didn't even have to walk past two alleys before he found a Drug Dealer selling a whole mix of very illegal and exotic narcotics. Ibzan wagered he was also gang-affiliated, no way a dealer would be hawking their wares so publicly if they weren't protected.

[color=9e0b0f]"What you got that's hot?"[/color]

The Dealer pulled out a set of three different drugs like a magician with cards.

"Got Fairy Dust, Runez, and Demon's Blood that hot as lava right now, man."

Ibzan's eyebrows shot up from under his glasses at the last one, even though he was unfamiliar with any of them. Demon's Blood? Was it made from real Demons, or was someone trying to sell some cheap knock-off? Either way, he had to see what it was like.

[color=9e0b0f]"Give me a taste of that blood."[/color]

The Dealer dabbed a drop out of the vial of blood red liquid into a eye-dropper before handing it to Ibzan to squeezed the drops of the narcotic onto his tongue and smacked his lips as he tasted it and tried to discern its effects. He felt a slight rush of testosterone and energy flow through him, but not much else. Had the makers developed an energy drink mixed with hormones? What the fuck was this stuff? It certainly wasn't anything close to his own or his kin's blood, though it was an admirable mimicry. But then, he wasn't the intended audience for this drug, was he? Thinking thoughtfully for a moment, Ibzan handed the dropper back and took his bankroll out, counting through the notes.

[color=9e0b0f]"How much for a gallon?"[/color]

This time it was the Dealer's turn to be shocked.

"Whoa ho! Man, I appreciate your offer, but you see me hauling around any gallon jugs in this coat?" 

The disguised Demon sighed irritatedly, and looked up from his roll, taking his shades off, and imbuing a slight bit of his power into his voice, pouring some willful suggestion into it.

[color=9e0b0f]"How much, and how long to get it to me?"[/color]

The Dealer blinked as if he got dust flung in his eyes and rubbed the side of his head as if he got a small headache.

"Ummm. . . it'll be 10 grand, and an hour."

Ibzan bit his lip and counted out five thousand in c-notes, pouring suggestion into his voice again as he looked back up.

[color=9e0b0f]"Your stuff's not THAT good. Five grand, and you'll bring it to me in a gallon milk jug to that strip club just up the street there within the hour. I'll be waiting with the two most beautiful women in the house, name's Damien Delroy."[/color]

With the weak-willed Dealer rendered speechless from the mesmeric onslaught again, his nose dripping blood a bit this time, Ibzan simply slipped the selected wad of bills into the dealer's pocket, took a rag out of his jean pocket to wipe the man's nose quickly, and patted him on the back as the Dealer started to mumble incoherently his new instructions and walk off in what Ibzan assumed was the direction of his drug den. He'd stop babbling within a minute, and act more natural, but his brain wasn't used to being forcibly handled by a demon's power, so there was still some resistance mechanically. 

Normally Ibzan didn't like forcing his will on people like that, but he was impatient and was irritated by how amateur the dealer was.

Meanwhile, with that plan set on the back-burner for now, Ibzan turned in search of his next plan for the night, to get some fresh new delightful playthings under his belt. He licked his lips, still tasting the drops of "Demon's blood" as he put his shades back on, and walked down towards the strip club he's seen out of the corner of his eye just down the block.