Death Valley, one weeks prior to below.
There was a small geyser. Steam rose from it when water wasn't. Thought it had a different use tonight. The blast of scalding water brought up a small suited man. Small horns protruded from his forehead. He landed on his rear, soaking wet with mist coming off him. "Ah, Mephisto, it is about time you arrived. We were somewhat worried." Azazel said with a sharp toothy smirk. "Ah, the sentiment is much appreciated." Mephisto stood upright, wiping the dust from his suit. "Now what." He asked, shifty eyes darting to the rest of them. "Well, seeing as how you're finally up, we can hunt for our...mortal vessels. You haven't the need to worry about that, M, seeing as how you aren't a nine foot tall red monster." Astatoth added. It was true. They couldn't maneuver on the plane of Earth without a vessel. It more or less was a possession of a desired body.
"Lilith," Azazel said, walking towards her. "Darling Lilith, I think it best if you find some fitting attire. No reason to hide your...natural beauty." The other demons rolled their black eyes. "Azazel, I see a settlement near by." Abaddon exclaimed, as he ran up to the group. "It's about 4 buildings, maybe 10 people." He continued. Azazel grinned, revealing his pointed teeth. "Well...I say let's see if they welcome us to the neighborhood, shall we?"
10:40. The train was 20 minutes late. 'Brilliant' Alistair thought. 'How does anyone get around if the trains are late.' A whistle was heard in the distance. Then, a speck of light. The train came rumbling through the station. It screeched to a halt as steam filled the open air. He rose a brow as he bent to grab his briefcase. 'About bloody time.' There were others. Mostly upscale snobs, but a few commoners specked in the crowd. "All Aboard. One way to San Francisco!" The conductor said, hanging off a bar from the engine. Stepping aboard the train revealed an interior befitting a manor's den, much less a locomotive.
There were only two men on, both dressed in black suits with bowler hats, reading the paper. Alistair took a seat up front. He looked back at the suited men. The newspaper's front page read 'SMALL SETTLEMENT SLAUGHTERED WEEK AGO, NO SURVIVORS' Alistair had heard of the brutality of America, and this had only reinforced what he was told. Now that most of the seats had been filled, the train finally began it's slow start along the tracks. The light of gaslight began to recede, and soon the only thing to be seen from the widow is an endless expanse of black.
The train was relatively silent, save for the occasional blaming of the natives for the village's massacre, and the crinkling sound of paper being folded. Truth be told it was hard to hear anything other than the constant choom choom the wheels made, or the whistle blowing. Though, Alistair could have sworn he heard faint clopping of horse hooves. He shrugged it off as a minor audible hallucination, as he had been up for 15 hours without sleep. He already began to doze off when he heard three loud bangs from the car behind his. Then a loud thunk. And the rambling and banging of the door.