Sujara ran her long, bony fingers over the boys forehead. He had appeared from thin air, knocking over her bloodstone dining table during her evening meal of bread and fruit. That was around twelve hours ago, and in that time, he still hadn't woken. He had since been placed in Sujara's bedchamber, and wrapped in her sheets of fine satin. She knew it was wrong. She was, once again, defying her people. As the leader of Circle 4, she'd be executed publicly if her peers found out. Such was Demon law.
Her dark red fingers ran along his cheek, as her amber, almond shaped eyes studied him. How did a human find his way to Hell? She began to remember events from years before, when a man who went by the name Lyam also appeared here, in this very fashion. The human began to stir, mumbling as he slowly woke. "I don't feel so good...
I don-I don't know whats happening-"
"Sshhhh..." Sujara said, her voice gentle. "It is time to wake, dear child."
As if commanded, the boy's eyes blue eyes fluttered open. It took a moment, but he soon leaned upward, and laid eyes on Sujara.
He bolted upwards, screaming, as his eyes widened. The demon woman simply put a finger over her lips, and suddenly, the boy's voice was lost. "Quiet." She said. "You will draw unwanted attention."
The boy, Mathew, nodded. He began taking in the room around him. Stone, he noted, was the room's main structure. "..."
He tried to speak, to no avail.
"..."
Once again he tried, before looking to the woman at his bedside. She was a shade lighter than maroon, with golden eyes. Her silver hair reached below her thighs, and was tied into a ponytail. Her clothing was extravagent, and would be worn by women of high class. Judging by the silk lavender ballroom gown and the shining golden jewelry she wore, she must have been fairly wealthy.
"..." Mathew attepted speech again, and the woman giggled.
She snapped her long boney fingers, and the boy found his voice. "Where am I? Who are you?! What are you?!"
"I am...Sujara. And I welcome you...to Hell."
< * >
In the circular office of Christoph McCoy, a man in silver body armor held a file close to his chest. His black hair was cropped, and his pale skin bared countless battle scares. His cold grey eyes had an air about them as he reported to Christoph himself, who had perched himself in his usual spot, the chair behind his desk.
"The device has been stolen, sir. It was the boy whom you had invited to your office yesterday night." He paused. Christoph motioned for him to continue. "I've sent out our best search units to fi-"
"Hupup!" The older man interupted. "Who told you to send out search units. You do realize I have eyes on the camera feed as well right?"
The man in body armor nodded, and Christoph stroked his goatee.
Then, as he placed a pair of circle spectacles over his eyes, he finally spoke again. "Perhaps you hadn't realized, and I understand how you wouldn't have, that this was intentional." He slid his chair backwards, and got up. He slowly made his way around the desk, and in front of the black haired man, who handed the file over.
"I appreciate your concern for the boy Commander. Do not fear, for he will be safe." As the Commander began to speak again, Christoph merely shushed him. "You are dismissed."
The man left the room, and Christoph took a picture from the bottom right drawer of his desk.
"Peter...I hope you knew what you were doing. Because I sure as hell don't."
< * >
Sujara adjusted the bottom strap of the backpack, before fully standing up. Mathew scratched his head, and asked the question he had been holding back for the past two hours. "So...this device...was designed to hold swords from the Nine Circles of Hell, and numb their effects so humans can use them? And on top of that, I'm the rightful owner, and I have to stop a demon invasion of Earth."
Sujara nodded, and held out her right hand. "Yes. And I can assure you, in time you will see why all is the way it is. But be warned, for our foes hold great power.
Do you accept?"
"Yes."
< * >
Mathew followed the demon woman deeper into her mansion, and into a room that was, as she had said, hidden from all with ill intent. "I cannot enter, child. You must enter yourself."
Mathew stepped forward, and Sujara opened the golden door. The darkness inside was ominous, and sickening. Mathew continued however, into the room...
Death makes me feel alive.
Pain makes me happy.
Evil makes me feel good.
I have no reason for my actions.
But I do have pleasure.
I have come to know insanity.
Through and through.
I have achieved many goals.
And I will not stop here.
I will consume all.
The Earth is mine.
The stars are mine.
Hell is mine.
Heaven is mine.
Tarturus is mine.
Olympus is mine.
You are mine.
< * >
One shot. That's all the black haired man in the eyepatch had.
Crouching low on the roof of the twelve story building, he swept his disheveled black hair behind his ear, before raising the scope of his sniper rifle to his right eye.
Aiming at the building cadicorner to his, he searched through the windows. Moments passed before he found his target. He pulled back the lever, aimed for the head, and pulled the trigger.
And it was done. Now the man could go back to his shoddy apartment, which reeked of piss and alcohol...
< * >
As Braig stepped into his small apartment, a wave of stench hit him straightaway. He simply grumbled under his breath, and set the dufflebag in his hands onto the counter to his left.
On the kitchen counter was a blue notebook, which he quickly opened. Turning to a new page, he grabbed a nearby pen, and began to write.
I made $20,000 today. It was an easy job. All the hits I get are easy. I guess that won't change after all? Oh well. The client tried to give me his daughter instead. To bad for him. I need the money more than he does. So far I've racked up $34,007,000. What'll I even do with that money...?
I'm not quitting work. I kill for sport. A murderer for hire. Being a mercenary is what I live for.
Maybe I'll invest in the stock market. I have enough to spare a few thousand.
Braig put the pen down, and closed the notebook. He begrudgingly looked around his apartment. It was only two rooms, with the kitchen and bedroom being rolled into one.
A small room directly adjuscent to the front door made up the bathroom. The wallpaper was torn to hell, and the carpet was stained an ugly yellow. Bottles of beer and vodka littered the floor, with Braig having to step over them as he walked. He reached a small minifridge next to the slab of metal he called a bed. Opening the fridge, he peered in, before grabbing the last Bud Lite from within. "Fuck, almost outta beer."
Popping the cap off of the glass bottle, he took a swig, and made his way into the bathroom. After doing his business, he began staring into the mirror. Removing the eyepatch from his left eye, he inspected the gaping hole in his face where his eye should have been. A ring of black surrounded his empty eyesocket, and as he saw this again, he began to feel disheartened. Placing his eyepatch in a cup of hot water, he put on a pair of sunglasses, and left. On his way out, he grabbed a few thousand dollars from the dufflebag hehad brought home. Braig stopped to clean off the blood, before placing it in his wallet.
"I really can't deny it...
I'm livin' the good life."