"So... twenty-one. Feels weird. There's, like, a weird little itch in my bones, y'know? Is that normal?" Whitney asked as she and Cobalt trudged down the street.

Rubbing his hands together in order to keep warm, the Incubus turned his gaze onto his student. Despite the late hour and the cold snow, she looked happy. She grinned as their gazes met, their breaths mingling together into clouds of steam.

"That's perfectly normal; just your body anticipating the transformation into a third-stager when the Summer Festival comes around," he answered, kicking a particularly large drift of snow aside.

"Aw, I gotta put up with this for another six months?!"

"You'll get used to it after a few days, don't you worry."

"Hm. You think maybe I should pick up some painkillers?"

"It'll pass, Whitney."

Reaching the end of the street, the two demons turned a corner to find the pharmacy that Dassie mentioned nestled between two stores that had closed for the night. The lights were still on, and the glow from its flickering neon signs bathed the snow in sickly green hues. Motioning for Whitney to take the lead, Cobalt stepped into the shop, kicking the snow off his shoes at the door.

"Kinda chilly in here, don't you think?" the Nymph remarked, rubbing her hands together.

"Must have the heating off to preserve costs," Cobalt replied, perusing the various shelves of the pharmacy.

With his student following close behind, the Incubus quietly stalked the aisles, his footsteps echoing off the cheap linoleum floor in time to the quiet music playing through the radio. Upon locating the medicine he had been sent to find, he gathered it all into his arms and carried it over to the counter. He suppressed a yawn and struck a small bell sitting by the cash register.

"Where's the staff?" Whitney asked, peering around the empty store.

"In the break room, I'd imagine. I wouldn't blame them for catching up on sleep when the night shifts are this dead," Cobalt answered, leaning against the counter.

A few moments passed, but nobody appeared to ring up his purchases. Frowning, he rang the bell again, to no avail.

"Sir..."

He glanced over at Whitney, whose ears were twitching as she focused.

"I can't hear anyone else. I- I think it's just us in the building," she told him, lowering her voice.

Cobalt felt his blood run cold. At this point, his senses had become well-attuned to danger, and this entire situation was beginning to stink of it. Before he could make a move, however, he saw something move through the glass doors of the pharmacy.

A dark figure stepped into the building, shutting and locking the doors behind him with a definitive click. Instinctively, Cobalt placed himself between Whitney and the stranger, silently gesturing for the Nymph to get back.

"I'm afraid the clerks are all indisposed at the moment," the stranger said in a deep, coarse voice.

He was dressed in a thick, dirty coat that concealed his every feature; a telltale sign that this man was not a conventional demon. Sure enough, upon lifting his hooded head, Cobalt was greeted by a pair of red eyes.

"Cobalt Trayer, good to meet you in the flesh. Or do you prefer going by the Iron Hound?"

The Incubus narrowed his eyes. In the very back of his mind, Lilith broke her days-long silence with a stifled gasp. She sounded fearful.

"There's no point in hiding, Devil," Cobalt spat.

The mere mention of that word was enough to make Whitney flinch, which amused the intruder greatly. Reaching for his hood, he pulled it down to reveal a wounded, unkempt visage. His grey hair was greasy and matted, and his iron horns were mismatched in length. Flashing a grin of broken, blackened teeth, the Devil touched a hand to his chest.

"Good. I'm not great with formalities. Call me Epsilon. Despite what Omega may insist, I too am - was - a member of the Alpha Corps," he explained in a rough-yet-calm tone.

"K- Kid... run..." was all Lilith could choke out.

Cobalt swallowed hard, distinctly aware of the terrified Nymph taking cover behind him.

"I heard there were six members left in the Alpha Corps," he said, keeping his voice low.

"You heard correct. Omega, our glorious commander. Delta, Gamma and Beta, the tactical experts. And Epsilon, the, ah... 'black ops' specialist, I guess," Epsilon murmured, tapping his chin with a cracked fingernail.

The Incubus narrowed his eyes.

"Who's the sixth?" he asked.

"That's really nothing you need concern yourself with. Besides..."

The Devil peered over Cobalt's shoulder.

"... it's not really polite to talk about stuff like that when you have company," he concluded with a leering smile.

"I'm not letting you near her!"

Epsilon shrugged.

"Good. The others might be free and easy with collateral damage, but in my line of work I prefer to keep my targets focused. I've only got business with you, Trayer; the girl can go," he explained with a sigh.

"What...?"

As if to compound his point, the Devil unlocked the pharmacy doors and kicked one of them open, stepping far enough aside to provide an escape route for Whitney.

"I'm a lot of bad things, but never a liar. Go on, now; don't be brave. Run on home and this will all just be a bad memory."

He fixed Whitney with a wide-eyed stare as he said those words. Swallowing hard, Cobalt turned to his student and grabbed her hand.

"Warn the others," he whispered.

She was clearly terrified, but she kept her nerve in the face of danger. Ever-reliable, even at the worst of times. Keeping Epsilon in her field of view at all times, Whitney slowly inched across the floor, shaking like a spring leaf as the Devil stared her down. He kept a respectful distance from her, making shooing gestures as she reached the door. With one last, terrified look towards her teacher, the Nymph slipped out into the snow.

Epsilon took a deep breath.

"That's better. Now, down to business; I know you have Omega with you right now. She formed a contract with you; I'm sorry to say that's not really a secret anymore," he explained.

Cobalt tensed up.

"I think it would be better for everyone if you just gave her up. I mean, this isn't your fight, right?"

The Incubus looked away, unable to deny that. Noticing the look in his eyes, Epsilon clasped his hands and nodded solemnly.

"... I heard about Diate. He was... an okay guy, back in the day. A bit of a prick, but who isn't? Despite his transgressions, everyone in Damnation is still horrified at his passing, and the deaths of the other three Alpha Corps members isn't going down well either. Sufficed to say, you've got a lot of angry Devils wishing bloody murder upon you," he continued, taking a step towards him.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Cobalt stepped back, feeling his back brush up against a shelf.

"And I suppose you're the instrument of their justice?" he asked incredulously, clenching his fists.

"Kid, you have to get out of here..." Lilith breathed in a barely-audible tone.

Epsilon cocked his head.

"Not necessarily. I'm something of a... pariah in Damnation. To lay my hand out, I've killed more Devils than you have. Guaranteed."

What? This man was a murderer, even amongst his own people?!

"Wh- What...?" Cobalt breathed, unable to parse what he had just been told.

"Some saw what I did as murder. I saw it as granting others a chance at freedom. To be more than slaves to the Chain. And - intentionally or not - you did the same thing. So I'll ask again, as a man who considers you an equal, not a lesser:"

Epsilon's eyes flashed.

"Will you give Omega to me? I'll make it quick, and I'll leave you and yours in peace. I promise."

"Don't let him get into your head, kid!"

Cobalt frowned.

Lilith... He didn't owe her anything. Not after all she put him through. For a while, he thought that he was really beginning to understand the Devil; that she was fighting back against her own people for the sake of maintaining a better future both for them and for those she once considered beneath her. But after... everything... he saw her for what she really was.

A spoilt, petulant, selfish Devil lady who would rather put innocent lives at risk to prove a point than face the heat of what she had done.

"Kid... come on...!"

She knew how to break the contract; a contract that they didn't even need anymore, now that the Devils knew of it. But still she languished in his head, spying on him every hour of every day while constantly denying him the answers and explanations he had asked her for, time and time again!

"Epsilon is a monster! He gets his kicks out of hurting people! He was always a fucking psychopath!"

Cobalt didn't want to die protecting a Devil weapon, plain and simple. Epsilon was right; this wasn't his fight. It never was. Diate attacked him all those months ago because of a battle that he had long since lost.

A battle with a man who wasn't even here anymore.

"Kid!"

"Damnation isn't a kind place, Trayer. Omega stole what little chance we had of holding our own against the forces that put us down there. You'd be helping us as well as yourself," Epsilon continued, folding his arms.

"He's lying!" Lilith cried.

Cobalt stared at a stain on the floor, his brow knitted as he struggled to make up his mind.

What would Brass do in this situation?

Protect his friends and loved ones? Put himself on the line even for a thankless acquaintance? Both?

"I... I don't know..." was all the Incubus could say in a meek, quiet voice.

The coward's way out.

Once again.

"... I was worried you'd say something like that."

Epsilon rushed forward, closing the gap between him and Cobalt in an instant. Before the Incubus could react, the Devil railed his fist right into his stomach, knocking the air clean from his lungs. Recoiling from the strike, he smashed his other fist into his throat. Choked and winded, Cobalt collapsed back against the shelf, toppling both it and himself to the floor as he struggled to breathe. He felt as though his windpipe had been crushed.

"It's fine. If you won't take the carrot, then I'll have to get the stick," Epsilon muttered, flexing his hand.

Unable to move or gather his thoughts from the sheer force of impact, the Incubus could only wheezed and fall onto his side. From behind the Devil, he could see a yellow figure rapidly approaching the door of the pharmacy.

His eyes widened. Epsilon noticed immediately.

"What are you looking a-?"

With an almighty scream, Whitney Brode crashed through the front doors, brandishing a frost-covered brick she had picked up outside. She gripped it in both hands and roughly smashed it against the back of Epsilon's head, tears streaming from her eyes the entire time.

He barely even flinched as it crumbled to pieces. With a heavy sigh, he wiped the bits of broken masonry off his shoulders as he glanced back at the Nymph.

"I told you not to be brave. I told you to run on home. And by doing so, you gave me your word, young lady. This is a breach of trust, do you understand?" he scolded.

Whitney just bared her fists and charged, but the Devil quickly intercepted her. Lashing out, he grabbed her by the throat and effortlessly lifted her off the floor, choking her terrified scream into a panicked wheedle.

Turning his gaze back onto Cobalt, Epsilon slipped his other hand into his coat.

"I'd close my eyes, were I you."

He produced a worn, rusted meat cleaver, nearly stopping Cobalt's heart right in his chest.

The Devil pinned Whitney to the floor and raised the cleaver above his head. The Incubus tried to stand up; to fight, the call out, anything. But he could only lie there paralysed as Epsilon brought the blade down. With the Devil's back blocking Whitney from view, all he had to go on were her terrified screams curdling into howls of pain as he heard the nicked blade bite into flesh and bone. The stench of blood filled the pharmacy, red streaks splattering the shelves as Epsilon raised the wet, red cleaver once more.

Whitney sobbed and pleaded as he swung it again, her voice going hoarse as yet more blood was splattered all over the floor. Cobalt arduously sucked a breath in through his teeth and reached out, but his body refused to obey him.

He could only lie there as the Devil swung the cleaver again and again, until he was kneeling in a lake of red, and the Nymph's anguished screams had gone silent. He took a deep breath and stood up, dripping cleaver hanging limp by his side.

Whitney was slumped on the floor. Covered in blood. Unmoving.

Cobalt felt completely numb, hot tears streaking down his face.

"Well then..."

Epsilon stepped over to the Incubus and looked down at him with deep, pitiful eyes.

"... where were we? Ah yes."

He raised his foot and slammed it down upon Cobalt's face, plunging everything into the deep, inky abyss of nothingness.

~~~~~

When Cobalt opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of his Deepest Refuge. The intermingling of the worn, weathered mansion rafters with a cold, sterile ceiling joists of the Undercroft, knitted together by vines laden with dead roses. The petals were stained red around the edges.

He could hear a voice calling his name, but he was deaf to it.

All he could hear was Whitney's screams as she begged for mercy on the floor of the pharmacy, and her choked sobs as that mercy was so cruelly denied from her. She ran in to try and save him. And now she was...

Cobalt felt soft paws press against his chest. The black cat kneaded its claws into him, tail swishing in the stale air.

"Whitney..." was all he managed to choke out.

"Fate is cruel to those who deserve better," the cat responded.

"She... I should have..."

"Your body had been forced into shock by a man who knew its inner workings intimately. You were effectively paralysed. Believe me when I say there was nothing you could have done."

Cobalt bared his teeth. Rolling onto his side, he took a swing at the cat, who nimbly dodged out of the way. He scrambled to his feet and dove at it, hands flexed and ready to just choke the life out of it. He didn't know why. He just needed to hit something. Anything.

"Acting out won't save her now, Cobalt. Control yourself," the cat sighed, jumping back.

"Shut the Hell up!"

He brought both of his fists down upon where the cat was sitting, splintering the floorboards and scattering woodchips everywhere. Cobalt gasped for breath, biting his tongue in an effort to keep himself from crying.

"Th- This is my fault...! he choked.

The cat strolled back up to him and cocked its head.

"Is it?"

His gaze darkening, Cobalt slowly rose back to his feet. Turning around, he fixed his gaze upon the figure standing against the wall of the entrance hall, just a few feet away. Slowly, he raised a finger and pointed at Lilith.

"Kid..." she said in a soft voice.

"No. This is your fault," he muttered.

"You're not thinking strai-"

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!"

He was shaking all over. Every fibre of his being wanted to throw a punch at her and just keep swinging, but he stayed rooted in pace, tears streaking down his face.

"I- I didn't think he'd... Kid, I-!"

"JUST SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Fists balled, Cobalt marched towards the door once bound by the shadowy locks. Shunting it open, he marched headlong down the ruined hallway, not caring for the thorny roses that dug into his ankles.

"Kid, wait! Think about what you're doing! Epsilon, he's not like the others!" Lilith cried, running after him.

He ignored her, keeping his gaze focused on the door at the end of the hall.

"We have to think of a plan, okay?! We can just run in half-cocked! He'll kill us!"

Cobalt kept his eyes locked with the word splayed across the metal door. It described exactly how he felt at that moment. Resentment.

"Are you even listening?!" Lilith cried.

Planting his hand upon the door, he looked back at her, eyes burning with hate.

"You've done nothing but ruin my life. And now Whitney might be dead because of you. If I get out there and she's gone, you won't have to worry about Epsilon. Because I'll kill you myself."

With that, Cobalt shoved the door open with a resounding clang.

The room beyond was large and clinical in appearance, though it bore yet more blood-red roses and deep claw marks in the stonework. Along one wall, a set of hoses and showers had been installed, with troughs in the floor leading to steel-grated drains. Over by another were dozens of metal lockers, each with its door hanging off its hinges or missing altogether. Countless white jumpsuits filled the racks, but they were all far too torn and shredded to be of any use.

Save one.

Reaching for the only intact jumpsuit, Cobalt pulled it out to find a single word painted across its front in red.

RANCOUR

He knew the design of the jumpsuit well. He knew this very room well. It was the place he was sprayed down and scrubbed clean in when he had been dragged down to the Undercroft. The jumpsuit was just the first of many restraints. It bore dozens of straps and buckles designed to fit in tandem with a straitjacket, as well as a collar, cuffs and manacles.

Security measures to keep an Incubus safe from others... and himself.

Taking a deep breath, he unzipped the jumpsuit and slowly climbed into it, feeling his skin crawl as it brushed against the coarse fabric.

He was beyond such little things as comfort now.

As his vision filled with light and he was pulled back to consciousness, Cobalt felt his stomach burn, but his heart burn even hotter.

Not with frustration. Not with hunger.

But with sheer, unbridled rancour.