After a few hours of “sleep”, Naphal sat up in her bed, looking out at the morning light shining through her window. Her body was exhausted, her mind ran through paranoid thoughts like a marathoner, yet she still forced herself out of bed, putting on her clothes and making sure the note was still in her coat. She walked groggily into the bathroom, giving herself a throbbing headache by turning the lights on. She performed her morning routine, beginning to wander through the vast hallways of her mother’s mansion, looking up the paintings that stared down at her like angels on high.
Most of them were of her mother, showing her wearing her military regalia. Naphal stared at them for a moment as the sound of laughter began to echo into her ears, familiar voices shouting from the main room. The assassin continued down the corridor until she reached the corner of the hall, poking her head around to see each and every member of the infernal court gathered in her mother’s living room. Astaroth and Beelzebub flanked her mother’s sides, both holding cups of warm tea as they laughed along with her stories. Asmodeus and Belphegor sat in chairs across from them, the lustful lord staring down Tiff, who was minding her own business.
The only absent members were the demon of greed, who was probably swimming in her coffers again, and Lucifer, who was at the palace. Naphal watched them for a minute before her eyes locked with her mother’s, the wrath queen standing up from her seat and beckoning her child forward.
“There you are!” She shouted, “The maid of honor has finally forced herself out of bed!”
“Good morning to you too, mother.”
“Would you like some tea? Breakfast?
Naphal shook her throbbing head, “No, mother. I’m fine.”
“I made it just for you…” Spoke up Astaroth, who gave her an unreadable grin.
“C’mon, Naphy… Astaroth made tea just for you.”
The former assassin rolled her eyes, “Fine, I’ll take a cup.”
“Excellent! I’ll go fix one for ya!”
As her mother flew into the kitchen, Naphal’s eyes met those of the infernal courtiers, who all looked back at her with scarily similar grins.
“We’re all very proud of you.” Commented Beelzebub.
“Killing Mephistopheles is like destroying the roots from the tree. You saved a lot of lives.” Asmodeus commended.
“Without him around, now ol’ Lucy can stop being so paranoid.” Marchosias said sardonically, flying back into the conversation and handing Naphal a hot cup of tea.
“You know Lucifer, she’s always panicking.”
“He was the reason why she always did, you know that better than just about all of us, Astie.”
Astaroth’s grin turned serious, “I do, though if you ask me, I’d say we’ve merely chopped one head off the hydra. His armies are still around aren’t they? Who’s to say there’s not a demon psychotic enough, not to mention powerful enough, to take his place?”
The room suddenly went silent, each woman holding their breath. Astaroth waved her hand, “Don’t mind my doom and gloom, we should be celebrating our victories.” She turned her sights to the assassin, “What do you think, Naphal?”
“Hmm?”
“About all this? The fame, the parade, the pageantry. You’re a shy little gal from what I remember.”
“Astaroth.” Marchosias spoke with a bite.
“I’m just asking what she thinks, dearie. It can’t hurt to get the scoop from hell’s new favorite hitwoman.”
Naphal had no clue what to say, “Uh…”
“It’s alright, dearie, spit it out.”
“I… appreciate it.”
Astaroth smiled, awaiting another answer, “And?”
The wrath demon grabbed her cohort’s arm, “That’s enough, Astaroth.”
“If you say so.”
Naphal soon snuck away to the kitchen, finding herself alone with her thoughts again as the courtiers began to chat again, though this time with a lot less laughter. She sat down at the dinner table across from Tiff, who twiddled her thumbs to pass the time before Asmodeus would unlock her eyes from her soul.
“Naphy.” She whispered, a hint of desperation in her voice.
“Yeah?”
“She’s staring at me.”
Naphal’s head turned around to see the lustful demoness doing exactly that.
“She’s been doing it all morning.” Tiff hushed panickedly.
“I told you she wouldn’t be happy.”
“I’m surprised she even remembers who I am.”
“You’d be shocked how much powerful demons remember. They’re like elephants without the fun parts.”
The succubi kept her head down, “I mean, Miss Marchosias did make me run Adelitas off this morning. Something about how he was “unpresentable”.”
“He looks like he’s never showered.”
“He does! Especially after last night…”
“Tiff.”
“Sorry.”
Naphal put her own head down, “This headache might be the death of me.”
“Just do what I always do when I have a headache.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even hear what it was.”
The assassin chuckled slightly, “I don’t have to.”
“Then stop whining about it.”
“If it involves sex, it’s not happening.”
Tiff paused, “…You win.”
“You are a fiend.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault! It’s just how I’m wired!”
Naphal smiled, “That’s what they all say.”
The two shared a small laugh, then the assassin felt a warm touch on her shoulder as she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes shot up, seeing her mother standing over her, giving her a smile.
“It’s almost time.”
“For what?”
Marchosias’ grin grew bigger, “Your parade, of course.”
“I still don’t understand why I need a parade. I just did my job.”
“You killed the biggest enemy of the state there is- well, was. How many times have I told you that?”
“A few hundred.”
The wrath demon chuckled, “You’re getting recognized, Naphy! You should be jumping for joy.”
“Mother, I’ve got an awful headache.”
“Then you can sit in the car, but ya have to roll the window down and wave to people. That’s what they want.”
“I’m sure they won’t mind if I don’t.”
Marchosias sighed, “Just be social for a few hours and then we can come home, alright? That's all I ask.”
Naphal rolled her eyes, “Alright.”
“Great, now c’mon, the limo’s outside.”
The former assassin forced herself to stand from her seat, following her mother out the door of the mansion to see a familiar limousine sitting in the driveway. It was pitch black, with windows that looked like black holes from the outside. A man in a black suit approached them, introducing himself to them with a name that Naphal didn’t care to remember. He politely opened the door to the car, allowing the pair inside as they waved goodbye to the courtiers, who went off in their own directions.
Naphal couldn’t help but stare out the darkly tinted window, her thoughts returning to that fateful day, as they always seemed to do. She remembered the high commander sitting next to her, holding her manilla folder, and unleashing her sense of nonchalant disregard. They sat there for what felt like an eternity before the man started the vehicle, the assassin’s hand clutching the blackened handrail beside her as he lined them up behind a series of elaborate floats, each representing something that the girl couldn’t seem to make out.
Her eyes wandered as the car sat stalled behind the procession, the world around her an abyssal shade of darkness. The car’s interior was jet black, same with the leather seats, and the tinted windows. Her mother stared out the window for what felt like hours until the car finally began to move again, following the long procession through hell’s outskirts. Naphal’s headache wavered long enough for her to look out her own aperture, rolling it down to reveal the mountainous terrain staring back at her.
The minutes ticked by at a sluggish pace as the parade finally pulled into the city, the sounds of music and fanfare filling her ears as she stared out into the ever-growing crowd of demons watching from the sidewalks. She waved awkwardly towards them like her mother told her to do, though the horde seemed rather disinterested. Naphal’s eyes soon went back to her mother, who’s waves were far more lively, her face locked on the crowd of souls staring at them from afar.
“See, isn’t this nice Naphal?”
“What is?”
“Recognition, of course!”
Naphal raised an eyebrow, “Most of these people seem pretty bored.”
“They’re demons, they always look bored. Just smile and wave.”
The assassin kept doing that as the car plodded along into the city itself, brass instruments filling her ears as the world around her turned into a mess of confetti and color. The hordes in the cities were far more welcoming, yet they still looked just as disinterested, though at least they clapped. Naphal’s mind began to wander as her parade dragged on, replaying the words Astaroth said like a broken record.
You’ve just cut off one head of the hydra, she whispered to herself as the procession approached Lucifer’s hellish palace. Then, the girl felt a sickening feeling in her stomach. Everything was quiet for a moment, like the eye of an oncoming storm. She whipped her head around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She didn’t know where the feeling came from, or why she had it. Everything was fine.
No.
No, it wasn’t.
Something was wrong, very wrong.
It’s too quiet.
It’s- BOOM!
Naphal’s ears began to ring as the world beneath her shook to the tune of the blast. Her vision was blurred, and soon, it was black. She felt a horrific pain in her side, her body limp as it was forced onto its side somehow. The assassin’s mind rushed into overdrive, first convincing herself she was still alive, then panicking about the fate of her mother, her friends, her family, the feeling of hot tears streaming down her subconscious as everything turned dark.
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When she awoke half an hour or so later, she felt herself laying on the most comfortable mattress she’d ever felt, her head resting on a cloud-like pillow that seemed to be a gift from heaven. Her vision was doubled, her ears still rang, and that pain in her arm had dulled to an agonizing murmur. Her eyes began to slowly look around at the room she found herself in, with walls painted crimson and flourishes of black.
“Oh, you’re awake.” A familiar voice spoke to her, though she couldn’t clearly see who it was.
“Ugh…”
“Naphal?”
The assassin’s eyes slowly blinked themselves back to a somewhat clear state, meeting those of Lucifer, who met her with a concerned yet warm grin.
“I guess I should tell your mother you’re awake. The poor woman’s nearly made herself ill.”
The queen walked out of the room for a moment, leaving Naphal alone with her thoughts at the worst possible moment. Astaroth’s words played as loud as a concert in her mind as she ran down every single little possibility. Maybe it was an accident? Or a random act? Her brain seemingly laughed at such naive optimism, the face of Mephistopheles’ dying corpse staring up at her when she closed her eyes again, seeing his final bleeding smile rattling her to the core. She wanted to puke, but she made sure to hold it together as her mother and the other courtiers entered the room, Marchosias quickly running to her with the speed of a jackrabbit.
She couldn’t muster words as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, tears streaming down her face and touching Naphal’s shoulders. The assassin couldn’t help but cry herself, the only sound in the room being their shallow breaths. Naphal could feel her mother’s wounds, but they didn’t seem to be bothering her, not right now.
“Naphy…” her mother sobbed, “I’m… you’re…”
“I’m alright, mother. I promise.”
“I… I…”
Naphal held her mother’s head, “I’m fine.”
“I…”
“Marchosias.” Lucifer spoke up, putting her hand on the wrath queen’s shoulder. “I believe we should continue our previous conversation.”
“Whoever did this will die.”
“Marcy-“
“I will personally rip their skulls from their FUCKING NECKS!”
The queen tried to calm her, “Stop.”
Naphal was taken aback by just about everything. Her morning had started with such fanfare and excitement, yet now it seemed like the world was crumbling around her, with every courtier at each other’s throats, even more so than usual.
“We should be smart about this.” Lucifer said bluntly.
“What’s there to be smart about?” Responded the unscathed Beelzebub, “We find and destroy whoever did this. There’s no “smart” way to handle this. This isn’t some political dispute, this is terrorism in our backyard!”
“Going in guns blazing will only cause more problems, we need to play the long game.”
“Long game?” Marchosias scoffed, “LONG GAME? MY DAUGHTER ALMOST DIED AND YOU WANT TO PLAY THE LONG GAME?!”
“Marcy, please, calm yourself.”
“NO! I want you to understand something, Lucy.” She said with a particular sort of venom, “This isn’t your decision to make, it’s ours, and if you want to wait for more innocent people to get hurt, then so be it, we won’t stand for it.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I’m making a mistake? You’re the one who’d rather have civilians die for the sake of your stupid “long game”!”
“No one will die if we play our cards right!”
“This isn’t a goddamned game!”
Asmodeus soon stepped in to separate them, “We won’t solve any problems by arguing. We’ve already had one of our own wounded, let’s not make it three.”
The demonic rulers huffed like petulant children as they were culled into a state of debate rather than violent shouting. It was then when a boy entered the room, his legs shaking nervously as he stared down the ticking time bombs known as the infernal court. He looked to be barely older than a teenager, with messy blonde hair and skin whiter than mayonnaise. He had sharp green eyes like Astaroth’s, and he wore a military coat that was two sizes too big.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a message from Miss Astaroth.”
Lucifer stared him down, “Speak, Dantalion.”
“My mistress states that her wounds are non-fatal, but she will need to rest. She hopes you all understand.”
“Tell her that we do, and that we wish her well.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
And as soon as he entered, the boy was gone, leaving the courtiers alone with the thickening tension in the room. They all stared at one another for what felt like eternities until the queen finally spoke up.
“We shall have a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss our strategy in full detail. I will chat with the high commander to gauge our best route of attack.”
“Our best route of attack is to slaughter them.” Marchosias said with a bite. Lucifer ignored her.
“I hope to see you all there.”
The other courtiers excluding Marchosias exited the room.
“What is it, Marcy?” The queen spoke with a bit of apprehension in her voice.
“What about Naphy?”
Naphal’s ears perked up at the hearing of her name.
“She will stay here.” Lucifer responded.
“But-“
“My maid staff will take good care of her, you have my word. If they fail, I’ll send you their heads.”
The griffin sighed, “Fine, but if she’s not better, I’ll-“
“Go home, Marcy. You need to rest.”
Marchosias huffed her way out of the room, leaving the queen and her assassin alone in the solemn bedroom, the tension still as palpable as an elephant. Naphal slowly sat herself upright on her bed, rubbing her head with her hand as a maid entered to give her some more medicine.
“Lucifer…”
“Yes?”
The assassin still could barely see straight, “What… happened?”
“There was an explosion, an attack. No casualties other than some wounded. There’s no need to worry, you should focus on being healthy again.”
“Was it… him?”
“We have no clue what to think. Just take your medicine and leave the investigating to me and the infernal court. We’ll get to the bottom of this before long.”
Naphal drank the medicine placed in front of her. It tasted like a mixture of coffee and blood. It sickened her to the core, but she didn’t exactly have a say in whether she took it or not. The pain in her arm still remained, though sitting up did reveal that it was in a makeshift cast. She watched as the queen left her alone in the empty room, her only accompaniment being the maids who popped in and out to give her drinks or meals.
She quickly grew to hate the desolate bedroom, its crimson walls staring back at her, laughing at her misery. The maids did their best to keep her occupied, but Lucifer’s beck and call was a busy one, and none of them had the time to listen. Eventually, her ears stopped ringing, and her eyes grew clear again. At this point, she was only lying in bed to be polite. Her mind soon began to replay the day’s events like a movie.
She remembered talking to the courtiers, then the boring parade, then… nothing. It was as if the blast itself was erased from her mind; she chalked it up to her brain choosing to shut it off, not allowing her to see. Though, her memories soon began to piece together a face in the crowd, one abhorrently unfamiliar. It was a girl, a rather young one at that. She couldn’t remember much except for the distinctive mask she wore, which covered the lower half of her face. It was a dark green color, with shark-like teeth plastered on it.
Naphal only remembered a split-second glimpse at her before she sank into the pits of the crowd, and that was where her memory stalled. She soon began to put together the pieces in her mind. Maybe this girl was responsible, or maybe she was a part of the group who was. Everything was on the table, though there was no way she could know for sure. Soon, her thoughts drifted back to the note in her coat. She tried to tell herself that it probably wasn’t important, but something about someone sending her and her alone a cry for help made her think this was more than just some desperate demon whining for an autograph.
She had no clue what time it was, and she was certain her phone was probably destroyed in the blast. Though she did hear the sound of oncoming footsteps, which gave her a sense of relief. One of Lucifer’s maids entered the room again, holding a cup of that same disgusting medicine. She walked over to the bed as Naphal sat herself upright again, looking down at the bright red concoction that was placed in front of her.
“What time is it?” The assassin asked.
“It’s getting late.”
“How late?”
The maid sighed, “It’s about 10, hence why this is your last bit of goop for the day. Get some rest after this and we’ll see how you feel in the morning.”
“But I feel better now.”
“Miss Lucifer has asked that you stay the night.”
“Dammit.” Naphal huffed.
“Goodnight, Miss Naphal.”
The maid left the room as soon as she entered it, leaving the assassin alone again. After staring at her medicine for a bit, the wheels in her head began to turn, hatching a bit of a devious plan as she sat in bed. She waited for what felt like an eternity until the usual footsteps outside her room finally stalled, then once she knew the coast was clear, she put her feet on the ground and pushed herself out of bed with her good arm, feeling her muscles atrophy as she tried to walk for the first time in hours. She walked a pained walk over to her coat, which sat draped upon a velvet chair.
Naphal dug through the pockets until she found it, noticing that it seemed to have gotten a bit of blood on it from the aftermath of the blast. She could still read it clearly, so it wasn’t necessarily an issue, and she continued on her way. The assassin began to trek through the darkened hallways, devoid of people except for her, the quiet sounds of sleep filling her ears as she maneuvered stealthily past bedrooms and living quarters. She slowly grew confident in her escape until she began to see a light radiate from a corner, a sense of paranoia washing through her as she approached the room where it was coming from.
The assassin peeked through a crack in the doorway, seeing Lucifer sitting behind her desk all alone, except for the glass of wine she held tightly in her palm. She was talking to herself about something, though her exact words were inaudible. Naphal slowly continued her creep through the halls, praying to whatever higher power there was that the queen wouldn’t open her door or hear her patter. The girl could hear her majesty begin to hum a tune, one she didn’t recognize. Her hums sounded angelic, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, though she kept trying to figure out the tune she was singing even as she made it across Lucifer’s door and continued down to the end of the hall.
Eventually, she made it to the palace doors, letting out a sigh of relief as she opened them silently to reveal the palace square, which was always empty in the moonlight of the night. She walked by the sight of the blast, surrounded by caution tape and warning signs. Chunks of concrete were laid out across the street in a random order, all damaged beyond recognition. There was something very off about this night. The city was desolate, save for the local vagrants that called the streets their home. The bars were empty, their neon signs blackened. Normally bustling parts of town were abandoned, even the succubi who flanked the red light district had dispersed.
She walked the empty streets with a slight limp, a remnant of the blast haunting her as the sounds of cheering and chanting began to fill the distance. As she approached, the sound only got louder, nearly making her ears ring again. Naphal soon realized where exactly the sound was coming from, remembering the note from the night before.
“I’m behind that bar you go to”, the note said, being given a voice in her mind. She soon recognized the bar, and sure enough, it was the exact same one, though rendered dark by the apparent shutdown of the city. The cheering grew louder as she turned the corner on the alley that led to the side entrance, seeing a crowd of people gather around a makeshift cage. It was tall and cavernous, made of chain-link fence and 2x4’s. Naphal couldn’t see the competitors over the heads of the chanting horde, all of whom were throwing their money into the ring like the fighters were circus animals.
The assassin weaved her way to the front of the crowd, getting a view at the people inside this monstrous contraption. One of them was a guy, he was built like a brick house, though his face had been turned into a bloody mush, his nose bent sideways as he made a final effort to finish off his opponent. That opponent was a girl, who was rather well-built in her own right, and seemed to be the fan-favorite. Every hit she landed led to a loud cheer from the horde, and a sickening crunch as her bare fist slammed into the man’s jaw, spraying blood into the crowd, much to their delight.
The man tried to throw a punch of his own, but all that got him was a roundhouse kick to the chin. Two more fists flew into his gut as he doubled over, just to meet the blunt end of the woman’s knee, sending more crimson into the captive audience. She let out a sadistic grin as she stood over his practically unconscious body, making a throat-slitting motion before picking him up by the back of his long, scruffy hair and ramming his battered face into the fence, leaving him limp on the blood-soaked rotting mats they battled on. She rested a foot on his chest, and raised an arm in victory, basking in the sea of money that rained down upon her.
“Any other takers?” She asked with panted vigor, seemingly exhausted from destroying her previous opponent. The men in the crowd all looked away, while their girlfriends all tried their damndest to sign them up. It was then, however, that the woman’s eye met with Naphal’s. “Y’know what? Scram! The all of ya!”
The crowd seemed livid at first, but after more threats from the woman and promises of an even more brutal beating of her next foe, they reluctantly agreed to leave the vicinity. As they did, the sadistic woman picked her up her payment for the match off the ground, stuffing it wherever she could. She soon walked over to Naphal, who was turning around to leave.
“Hey!” She shouted from the cage, beckoning the assassin back, who followed the order hesitantly. “I didn’t say you could leave.”
“I-I don’t want any trouble.”
“I might be a bitch, but I ain’t gonna fight a cripple. It’s not a fair fight.”
“Thanks.” Naphal said, letting her annoyance slip a bit.
“I gotta say, I’m surprised you showed up.”
“Hmm?”
“Well, y’know, with everything going on. I thought the Queen’s assassin would be way too busy to answer little old me.”
The assassin was confused, “Wait… you’re the one who sent the note?”
“Yep. Now, would you be a doll for me and help me tear this thing down?”
“I only have one good arm.”
“Can that one good arm push?”
Naphal sighed, entering the cavernous cage and standing next to the woman, who she finally got a good look at as she approached. She was tall, with a short tuft of violet hair atop her head, and a scar stretching from her cheek to her eyebrow, with her right eye being a foggy shade of gray.
“Is this why you sent the note?” The assassin asked as she pushed over one of the cage’s 2x4’s.
“Nah. It’s something… really important.”
“You did put on a good show.”
“Thanks.” The demon said with a chuckle, “I try my best.”
After the cage was knocked down, the pair sat down on a stair in front of one of the bar’s side entrances, the
woman staring down at the blood leaking from her knuckles.
“Who are you, anyway?” Naphal asked.
“Me? My name’s Samael.”
“Samael… like the angel?”
She smiled, “Nah, my momma just liked the name.”
“Oh.”
“Though I bet you’re wondering why a tough old bitch like me would want your help.”
“That’s kinda necessary if you want me to help.”
The demon took in a deep breath.
“My sister…” she fought back a sudden sob, “She’s been kidnapped.”
Naphal’s heart sank. “Oh.”
“And… I need you to help me get her back.”
The assassin had no clue how to respond, but there was one thought in her mind:
Maybe she should’ve stayed in bed.