It only took them a few days to find a 'messenger'. The rest of the time had been spend debating if this was at all a good idea. Their first priority had always been survival. Bringing attention to them would not be wise. Having their host imprisoned would not be a bad thing. It had happened before, would probably happen again. They knew, if they sang the right tune, they would just go back to an asylum. Probably a secure facility, without an out. They did not like this idea, as they rather enjoyed their new found freedom. As long as no one tried sending them to Hell, they would endure. There were always new hosts.
But, they preferred caution. Survival-instinct had been long bred into them. Killing mortals would draw attention, and they already watched television to make sure their previous escape had not made headlines. So far, so good. The guardians made polite inquires, but the host was of legal age. Another statistic was easy to explain when doctors wanted to preserve their reputation. They looked hard enough to put up a nice front, and they knew they would have to handle the guardians sooner or later. Laying low was wise, but boring. They wanted excitement.
So they'd picked their target carefully. Someone who wouldn't be missed, with a skintone that would make most people think of just another crime. He had just enough sin for people to think he'd crossed the wrong people, at the wrong time. Being a messenger meant more then just mail it seemed. The location, too had been picked with care. Plenty of death happened here. They hoped the mortals would make nothing more of this then 'poor bastard, but what will you do'. However, if television was to be believed, everybody who killed got caught. They would just have to be very, very careful. And hope nobody dug too deep.
After assuring everything could go as well, they had started a hunt. They'd followed the man, learned his habits. Had their mortal say hello now and again. Near the end of it, the mortal messenger had jumped when they had approached him. Cornered in the back of the alley, eyes flying all over the place, it was perhaps the first time the mortal knew something wasn't right.
Legion supposed they made an odd picture. They were dressed in something they assumed was meant for seduction, not something meant for daylight hours (good thing the sun had long set then). But hey, they'd spend the last lifetime in an overweight elder male. They were allowed their luxuries. The male certainly enjoyed the view, despite still looking around like a captured animal. The mortal wasn't wrong.
Then Legion smiled, and the mortal froze. Quick hands and quick fingers made quick of work out of the mortal, and before long he'd stopped squirming. They glanced to the blood on their fingers, and to the mortal at their feet. "Don't worry little man. We're sure you'll have plenty of company where your going." To anyone listening, it would have send chills on their spine to hear the young woman speak. It was not the voice of a young woman, but multiple voices all as haunting as the next. The voices of the many demons.
With a smile, they left. It had been fun, at least. Perhaps they'd do this again.