For what felt like an age, Mickie’s world was reduced to a ceaseless climb, one foot in front of another, up the stairs. He had attempted to count the passing lights set into the walls, but Miz-Mag’s relentless prattling kept throwing him off. It had at least been a couple hundred.
‘Dear boy, let me tell you, I have been looking forward to seeing the big city. Living large in the palace was nice, certainly. But one eventually hungers for the bustle of city life. Indeed, my friend, I think I am better suited to the streets than the opulent halls.’
A sudden wave of vertigo caused Mickie to misstep, and he stumbled, almost collapsing onto the stairs. The tiny fiend on his shoulder swore loudly.
‘By the blood kid, watch your step.’
The branded man straightened, and almost immediately fell over again as his head spun.
‘Something’s wrong. The stairs, something with the stairs.’
He steadied himself, waiting for the world to settle. Except the dizziness was only getting worse, now accompanied by a tickling sensation from his brand. Heal blossomed within his right hand and spread up his arm, becoming uncomfortable warm. Mickie held up his scarred flesh to find the mark glowing a dim orange.
‘Welp, that does not look right.’
He was in no condition to reply as fire gradually spread throughout his body, pain blossoming into agony. Muscles seized and the marked mortal collapsed to the hard staircase. The heat kept building, like Mickie’s body was a sealed vessel, straining to hold together as pressure spiked. Desperately he squirmed and clawed at his chest, hands digging and tearing the fabric of his clean shirt. Miz-Mag was saying something, dismayed, but he could not make out the words.
Then, as sudden as it had come on, the pain was gone. Mickie gasped in relief, slowly taking stock of his body in the aftermath of the agony. Everything seemed to be fine, though his clothes once more looked like they had been pulled from a dumpster. With a groan Mickie sat up slowly on the stairs, rubbing the brand on the back of his hand. Something gave him pause, it almost felt like there were more lines etched upon his flesh. Taking a look, he swore loudly, prompting Miz-Mag to shift from the stairs to his shoulder.
‘Well bend me over and spank me clean, I did not see that coming.’
The border of the mark remained the same, a lion, wolf and leopard circling one another. Within the trio of predators however, there was a new symbol accompanying the last. This new amalgamation of squiggles was positioned to the right, where the numbers one or two would be on a clock. It was a sight that made Mickie uneasy, and it was not long before his brain pulled together a dohesive picture as to why.
He had received this brand when entering the castle, hauled up from a hanging cage. Now he was moving on to another circle it flared up, adding a new symbol to the empty space in the centre. Eyeballing the distance between the two strange characters, Mickie mentally added more until he looped about the mark’s interior. Nine total symbols would fit. Nine symbols for nine circles. Words the Conductor had spoken just before he set off up the stairs came back to Mickie in that moment. A warning about the Soul Lord and its contingencies.
‘What happens when I get to the top?’
The words came out sounding dry, stripped by his nerves until they were flaky and untextured. T demon on his shoulder seemed to sense his unease. Miz-Mag’s answer did not contain a hint of the fiend’s usual joviality.
‘I don’t know kid, I just made the deal.’
Miz-Mag seemed to have reached the same conclusion about the symbols within the brand, and if its expression was any indicator, the creature found the discovery as disturbing as he did. Yet the mortal found himself unable to accept his companion’s answer. The demon’s lack of knowledge on the pact it had placed upon them had been an ongoing sore spot for Mickie. This most recent development was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
‘How do you not know? It’s your deal!’
An outburst shaped by his frustration and unease burst forth, and he ranted without giving the demon a chance to interject.
‘Why would you bind you soul to someone without knowing what you were really doing? It makes no sense at all. I can’t believe you were never suspicious about that urge. Never stopped to think, maybe there was some kind of reason you felt the need to make a deal. The fact that I, a human who can somehow see you, appeared out of nowhere did not give you pause. It’s astounding, there was clearly something else at work!’
His companion had fled from his shoulder at the explosion’s onset, and now stood glaring at him from a nearby step. The look on Miz-Mag’s face was not one of pure anger, rather it was fury masking something deeper, a pain that huddled within. Catching a hint of that genuine emotion, Mickie paused in his tirade and took a breath. It took a moment for Miz-Mag to start talking, its voice coming out almost in a hiss.
‘What would you know? Your little more than a child. Probably died doing some stupid shit. What would you know of me? Of a century wandering the halls of that metal monstrosity. Of the only thing that can talk to you wanting you dead. Of being weak. Of being alone.’
The final words came out with a squeak of effort, and Miz-Mag closed its eyes, tilting its head down.
‘You expect me to have answers when I can ask no questions? You expect me not to take a chance at fulfilling my purpose? Tell me, Mickie, should I have let you die instead? Maybe continued on for eternity, unseen in those damned halls?’
Golden eyes glinted with an angry determination as the fiend abruptly raised its head.
‘I might not want to die, but I also don’t want to live like that. Not when there’s an alternative. I do have reasons to climb other than the deal you know.’
Mickie crossed his arms.
‘And they are?’
Light reflected off white specks as his companion grinned.
‘I want to be known. To be thought of with awe. It’s like you said, I want to show them, show them that I’m more than just a bug underfoot.’
The tiny demon stated its lofty goals with an honesty that Mickie rarely saw in the creature. It was enough to break him from his obstinate anger. The branded man rubbed his brow and drained the emotion with a slow breath.
‘That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t change the fact that something weird is going on.’
Miz-Mag let lose a dark chuckle, attempting to put its usual chipper attitude back on.
‘It’s Hell dear boy, if something weird isn’t happening you’re doing it wrong.’
He could hear the effort behind the forced joviality, and it sucked away the last of Mickie’s temper. With a sigh he stood and began walking up the staircase once more. Miz-Mag did not return to its usual perch, instead hopping from stair to stair beside him. The duo continued silently in this manner for some time until a thought occurred to Mickie.
‘How are you going become known to the demons if they can’t even see you?’
Miz-Mag threw him a glace before returning its focus to the staircase.
‘I don’t know, I’ll work it out. Could always get you to say you’re doing stuff for me. You know, the Masterful Miz-Mag sends it regards, or something.’
That sounded a lot like something the family used to do when Mickie was alive. The thought of his little partner acting like one of the old-school dons caused him to huff out a chuckle.
‘Yeah, maybe not that line, we could work something out though.’
He received a glare for laughing at the suggestion, but Miz-Mag seemed to be a bit closer to its usual self when the demon responded.
‘Well, maybe I’ll get some power to help, you seem to be picking up new ones, so I could too.’
Mickie gave the fiend a confused look as it hopped between stairs.
‘What are you on about? What new power?’
Miz-Mag landed and came to a sudden stop, returning a baffled look of its own.
‘The new ability you got from that little dance you did before, can’t you feel it?
That took the human by surprise, and he stumbled on a step.
‘No, I can’t feel it! You can tell I have powers?’
‘Yeah, I thought you could too. I mean, you called the gun up almost immediately.’
‘That was because I was about to die!’
He gave an exasperated sigh.
‘Well, what is it then?’
The fiend tilted its head.
‘What’s what?’
‘My new power!’
Miz-Mag gave a sudden burst of laughter.
‘Yeah, I know, I was just messing with you kid. As for the power, well, my sense of it is kind of vibe based. Though at a guess I would say it’s some kind of protection. If the gun’s the sword, this is the shield.’
It sounded like another summoning ability then.
‘So I just call on a shield then?’
All he got in response was a shrug. Deciding there was nothing for it other than to try, Mickie stretched out his branded hand and thought of a shield. A few moments past with nothing manifesting into his grasp. Perhaps if he thought of it appearing, that was what he did when summoning the gun after all. Another silent few breaths past with no results.
‘Performance issues kid? Not to worry, it happens to the best of us.’
He gave the snickering demon a glare before going back to the drawing board. Miz-Mag had said a shield, but that was not the only form of defence available. Armour also protected the body. In fact, some kind of passive shielding would be the better choice, seeing as he had never actually held a shield before. With a low heat his brand began to burn, the same as it did whenever he summoned the gun. The warmth drew his attention like a hand on a hot stove, rapidly spiking before something came forth from within him. Mickie felt it take form, a gentle weight upon his shoulders, coarse fabric against his knees. From the stairs nearby Miz-Mag made an impressed noise.
‘Looking sharp kid, though you might want to lose a layer.’
Looking down, Mickie took in his new appearance as best he could. It appeared that the summoning had called forth clothing of some kind. Jeans poked out beneath the threadbare shorts he had been wearing, and long jacket sleaves emerged from the beige top. With a thought, Mickie dismissed his new clothing. It vanished as if had never been, and the palace worker clothes he had on shifted as they settled back onto his skin. He did not even bother to readjust the garb, pulling it off until he was standing nude on the staircase. The brand burned once again, and Mickie’s new outfit was called forth to cover his body.
‘Huh.’
Off all the accoutrements one might expect when thinking of armour, this getup was certainly not among them. He was indeed wearing jeans, a comfortably snug pair that shifted with his legs like a second skin. They were bound by a belt woven from tight strands of dark hair, held into place by a bone buckle. The jacket appeared to be made of some reptilian hide, broad scales as hard and slick as wet stone protected his upper body. Below the defensive layer was a crimson tee, for all appearances a merchandise top one might find at a death metal gig. The words Soul Siphon hung above an image of three familiar furry predators, snarling with muzzles coated in blood.
While a touch more overstated than he preferred, it was the kind of outfit Mickie had preferred during the few years of peace he had while alive. The result of nights spent in basement bars and weekends on the road, riding, and camping. It was a comfortable fit, though perhaps not his first choice when thinking of armour. Miz-Mag had wandered over and was testing the durability of the jeans, scratching at the denom.
‘This is some tough stuff, maybe you won’t get poked full of holes every time we fight now. Shirts a bit much though.’
Mickie jabbed the thick fabric protecting one of his arms, hardly feeling the pressure on the skin beneath.
‘It’s like Kevlar on steroids, definitely better than the rags I was wearing before.’
There was only one real problem.
‘Why don’t I have any shoes?’
His feet were as bare as they had been when he first arrived in Hell. Mickie had no doubts they would get filthy if he had to run about in a city. Hopefully his demon powers gave him immunity to any infections he would be risking by coating them in grime. A figure alighted atop his shoulder, and he failed to feel Miz-Mag through the jacket at all. He would not have even known the demon was there if not for its eye-catching shade of red.
‘Well, there’s always next time, aye kid.’
The fiend patted his ear consolingly. Mickie rubbed at his brand as he started climbing the stairs once more. There was little he could do about the deal currently, if he didn’t like what was happening each layer then he would have to stop climbing. Though that would mean a trip into the abyss. It put the whole do or die clause of the bargain into a new light for Mickie. It was, as the Conductor had warned, a contingency. One designed to force him upwards. His misgivings about the brand would have to outweigh his will to live, something Mickie could not see happening. For now, he would make use of whatever new power was provided, and deal with the consequences of doing so if he lived long enough to suffer them.
----------------------------------------
After another tedious period spent climbing stairs, the duo came into view of an upper landing. Excited, Mickie took the final stretch two steps at a time, reaching a blessedly solid platform. Unlike the lobby within the palace, the top of the staircase was a small chamber, still domed but plain in design and only as wide as the stairs themselves. A large set of double doors set into the grey walls was the only way in or out of the space. They approached the slabs of steel and Mickie raised his hands to grasp a large ring that hung at head height.
‘What’s the bet we’ll just be walking out of here without a fight?’
Miz-Mag had slipped from his shoulder and was examining the point where the door met the floor, the gap too narrow even for the small demon.
‘Unlikely kid. It wouldn’t surprise me if the path out of here is riddled with demons.’
Mickie rolled his shoulders.
‘Alright. Okay.’
A gradual calm came over him, everything but the task at hand pushed away.
‘Let’s do this.’
He heaved on the ring and the door swung inwards. The light beyond was the same gentle glow as within their room. A passage stretched some distance before terminating at yet another set of doors. Guards lined the walls, at least a couple dozen imps holding unwieldy rifles. Before he had even got the door open a squeaky voiced called out to Mickie.
‘Who’s there! Identify yourself!’
Releasing the ring, Mickie paused, his expression shifted from one of calm calculation to hurried panic in an instant. The mortal made sure his glove was in position over his brand before taking a few stumbling steps into the hall. He had hardly made it past the threshold before a foot caught on his calf and Mickie tumbled to the floor. Scrambling onto his knees, he raised trembling hands and spoke between ragged gasps for air.
‘I serve the Palace Lord. I come baring news from the ninth circle.’
The barrels that had been pointed his way dropped ever so slightly. An imp stepped forward from its place by the wall.
‘What news human?’
It raised its gun in threat and Mickie quailed beneath the barrel.
‘I-I-I was told only to report to the master of this place. It is of utmost importance.’
The imp approached and he shrank away from it.
‘Why are you dressed like that mortal? I’ve seen the palace slaves, and they all wear stuffy rags.’
Mickie did not answer, only mumbled.
‘Message, I’ve got to relay the message.’
‘Answer me fool!’
A barrel was prodded into his chest, and Mickie gasped in feigned terror.
‘The Palace Lord! My master commanded it, I do not question him!’
The imp took a step back, seemingly mollified. At their positions on the walls, some of the guards were making poor attempts to conceal laughter. His interrogator paused, touching a hand to its ear.
‘Understood.’
It turned back to him.
‘You will follow me, any sudden moves and you’re dead, understand?’
Mickie gave a vigorous nod while scanning the hall for cameras. Though he couldn’t find any, that didn’t mean they weren’t there. After all, the surveillance back in Administration had not been visible. It looked like something had been watching his entry and wanted to know why he wasn’t visible on their feed.
‘O-of course sir.’
He stood on unsteady legs, flinching slightly when the demon waved his gun.
‘Come on. Get moving.’
With a panicked urgency Mickie stumbled forward. As he tromped towards the far end of the hall Miz-Mag skipped ahead, chuckling merrily.
‘Well played kid. Now we just need a chance to slip out of here.’
The guard followed right on his heels, issuing orders as they went.
‘Alright, Fakil, you’re head while I’m out. Pontus, you’re with me.’
An imp against the wall tromped forward silently. Mickie’s escort scanned the hall, looking for a particular fiend.
‘Ah Biz, there you are. You’re coming too, can’t have you dozing off while I’m gone, can I?’
The other guards gave a series of low chuckles as another fiend stepped from its position. Mickie noted this particular imp seemed downcast, though tried to hide it behind a stoic façade. They reached the doors at the end of the hall and Mickie was prodded in the back with a barrel.
‘Alright slave, get the doors.’
Mickie hurried to comply and soon the human and his imp escort were wondering through the halls. The interior of the building was more akin to the offices of Administration than the gawdy halls of the upper floors. Gray walls an austere lighting was complimented by tiles of matte black. Unlike the offices within the palace however, these halls were a bustling network of activity. All about demons of every shaped and size were walking with purpose, heading to who knew where within building. Mickie even noted occasional humans moving through the organised chaos, better dressed than those within the palace.
‘Of course it’s stinkin’ shift change. Going to take ages to get through this.’
The head guard grumbled loudly as they moved through the halls, eventually coming to a side passage. Mickie noted the leader of the imps take a card from his side and press it against a scanner on the wall, prompting a set of doors to swing open. They entered an empty hall that was swiftly sealed behind them. It looked like his chance at escape had arrived.
This passage was narrower than the others, and more importantly, empty of anyone but their merry band. Under the false pretext of scratching his neck, Mickie scooped Miz-Mag from his shoulder. The demon gave him a raised eyebrow and Mickie mimed poking his eye then pointed a subtle thumb behind him. In response to his odd actions, a barrel was jabbed hard into his back.
‘Cut that shit out and walk normally or we’ll have to drag your corpse.’
‘Sorry sir. Just nervous’
He had stumbled along with the jab, and when Mickie looked to his hand after steadying, Miz-Mag was gone. It was only a few more steps before his companion made itself know.
‘Alright kid, I have the quiet one, on your left. The boss is on your right and another just behind it. On zero. Three, two, one…’
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Mickie spun and struck out at the trio’s leader while a little red fiend rammed its claws into an imp’s eye. With one hand he grasped the bossy guard on the side of the head, lifting him off the floor. Before the hell spawn could recover from the shock of the act, he was slamming its head into the wall. Once, twice, and a third time for good measure. The imp was dropped limp to the floor and Mickie wasted no time in dispatching the one Miz-Mag had blinded. In moments all that remained of the guard force was a single scared imp. It backed away from him slowly while fumbling for its unwieldy gun.
‘Mag, handle the gun, we want this one alive!’
The terrified guard seemed not to registered what he had said, the barrel of its weapon shook slightly as the creature tried to sound commanding.
‘Get on the ground. Get down or I’ll shoot.’
Its voice was tight with fear, and Mickie put his hands up before responding.
‘Then what? You kill the messenger of the Palace Lord? Rainzell will turn you to paste for damaging his property.’
To its credit, the little imp seemed to have gotten a hold of its courage as it answered. However it failed to notice the added weight of Miz-Mag alighting atop its bulky rifle.
‘The Palace Lord would never send a human. I’m not stupid, I know it always sent imps in the past.’
There was a click and a clatter as Mickie’s companion pulled a catch on the gun and kicked its magazine free. The fiend them immediately hauled on a slot in the side and threw the chambered round across the hall. The final imp looked on in awe as its gun unloaded itself, not realise Mickie was upon it until it was too late. He grabbed the demon by its combat vest and slammed it against a wall.
‘Do you know a way out of here!’
The guard spluttered in confusion and surprise. Knowing there was likely cameras in the hall, the branded man called his gun forth to push things along. A snarling barrel was pressed against the temple of the terrified imp.
‘Do you know a way out of the building.’
‘Yes.’
It was little more than a squeak that answered him.
‘Good can you tell me what it is?’
‘No. It’s too far. Difficult to describe.’
Mickie cursed and unsummoned his gun. He was about to dispatch the remaining guard quietly when an idea occurred to him. One relating to his strange form of invisibility.
‘Mag, can I make others invisible by touching them?’
The little fiend hopped atop the head of the imp he had pinned to the wall.
‘Unfortunately, not dear boy. We can make things that aren’t alive disappear by contact, but not living beings.’
There went that plan. He had been hoping to make the guard disappear on cameras and have her guide them out. It was not to be. Not only that but time had to be running short, he did not doubt reinforcements were already on their way.
‘Alright, what are the exits to this building? Give me the closest ones.’
It appeared the guard was done playing along however, it glared at him from its position against the wall.
‘They’re going to take your skin off when they get you.’
Mickie was not willing to drag out time with further interrogation. He drew the imps head forward in a sharp movement and cracked it against the wall. Miz-Mag jumped from the creature as he did so, cursing loudly.
‘By the blood. At least warn a fiend would you.’
His companion dusted itself of before moving to the downed leader. As Mickie dropped the final Imp to the floor his companion rummaged around the limp creature’s belt, returning with a card in hand. The duo moved back the way they had come and paused by the doors out.
‘Alright, eyes peeled for any way out. There must be one somewhere.’
The fiend yapped an affirmation and Mickie pressed his new keycard to the reader. They emerged into the bustling hall and stood before the door, preventing it from opening completely and revealing the crime scene within. Eventually the motor attempting to push past Mickie’s heels gave up and the trio of incapacitated guards vanished from sight with a click. The man and his demon wasted no time merging with the ceaseless stream of individuals moving through the halls. He figured that the exit had to be one of the most travelled routes, so Mickie followed the largest flow of people.
Currently, his biggest advantage was that so few demons knew what he looked like. Until the imps back at the stairway door reported that information, he could blend seamlessly into the crowds. The trick would be finding a way out before the demons wizened up and found him.
The flow of mortals and fiends led him through a short, interconnected series of halls. Up ahead there seemed to be a congregation of sorts, an intersection of passages positively teeming with activity. Approaching the potential exit, Mickie winced when a sudden blaring alarm echoed through the cramped passage. It preceded something far worse however, as a raspy voice followed the grating tone.
‘Attention all BCMA personnel. There is a fugitive mortal lose within the facility. Lockdown protocol will be engaged. Ensure you reach your designated lockdown stations as soon as possible. Guards will be armed and…’
Unlike the surrounding staff, Mickie did not come to a stop at the announcement. Instead, he weaved through the crowd, heading right for the busy intersection. As the crackly voice droned into a description of his appearance the branded man barely held back a curse. A demon began to swear at him as he pushed past but cut-off mid word, scanning Mickie’s jacket and jeans. Before the hell spawn could raise the alarm, he and Miz-Mag had pushed their way into an open foyer. It was the standard entrance to an upscale city tower, floor to ceiling windows and swathes of tiled space. Humans and demons alike filled the room, listening to the announcement in confused silence. They appeared to have had their immediate plans prevented by a contingent of guards posted up by the doors, inhibiting entry or exit. Even as Mickie stepped into the crowded foyer, metal shutters began to slide down over the tall windows.
Back in the hall there was a shout, something about a mortal with a jacket. The sound of it carried across the hall and caught the attention of the guards. Mickie kept his head low as he weaved through the throng, heading not for the doors, but a window. He silently cursed how short the imps were, they were not a great means of cover. It was not long before the guards noted the only individual moving through the throng. Shouts went up for him to stop, though Mickie only pushed to move faster. The metal shutters were already halfway down and moving ever closer to sealing the tower. Mickie did not doubt he could blast a hole through the barrier, it was just a question if he could do so before the guards got to him. It would be better to shatter the glass and slip out before the lockdown was complete.
‘Slave. They told you to stop.’
A voice thicker than gravel slurry came paired with thick fingers wrapping about Mickie’s bicep. The branded man and his companion turned to face a massive demon. Some kind of fusion between flesh and stone, the creature was at least eight feet tall. It had four arms, one of which was attached to Mickie by a huge hand. By all appearances the monstrous fiend should have been able to turn the human to paste and hand the mush to the guards. However, the creature had made one fatal error. It had given him a chance to retaliate.
A gun appeared in Mickie’s free hand and with bang he blew the left half of the creature apart. The demon stumbled back and there was a moment of silence. Throughout the foyer every hell spawn and human turned to the mortal with the weapon, steam hissing venting from the device to disperse in the air. Then the wounded giant let lose a roar of pain and all hell broke loose. Everyone ran and pushed to get away from Mickie, rushing into the tower and towards the doors out of it. The guards by the exit were attempting to get a clear shot at him, but the panicked masses were making aiming difficult.
While Mickie ducked low and ran for the nearest window, a shot rang out from behind, soon followed by more screaming. It appeared one of the guardians by the door had attempted to hit the runaway and clipped someone in the crowd instead. The increased pandemonium was enough for him to reach the window and shoot it with a freshly reloaded gun. Glass shattered and was still falling in a rain as Mickie grabbed Miz-Mag and stuffed the fiend into a jacket pocket. Hopefully his companion would remain in cover. Arms raised to protect his head, the human dove into the deluge of sharp shards.
The metal barrier still had a few feet to cover, and he tumbled beneath it easily. His clothes provided ample protection from the sharp debris, leaving only his face, hands and feet exposed. A slice on his check stung and pain lanced up a foot as Mickie rose outside the tower. Taking a moment to pull a piece of glass from between his toes, the human’s thoughts came to a stop at the view before him. The tower resided within a courtyard of barren concrete, hemmed by a broad road. Beyond that however, lay the city.
Haphazard towers of twisted geometry filled the skyline. Constructs of stone and steel, pipework and platforms. It was so chaotic that the disorder felt intentional. Cutting through the warped buildings was a broad road. It formed an incline that rose into the distance, eventually far eclipsing the towers themselves in height. Where the road faded into darkness, Mickie could just barely make out the faint outline of a structure rising into the black.
The sound of shouting drew the slack jawed man from his observations. Over by the entrance to the facility imps were spilling out with guns at the ready. The guards had exited the building to come after him. Mickie started running for the slopped highway and the tower beyond, gunfire barking after him like an angry dog. Something clipped his shoulder hard, and the mortal was sent rolling along the smooth concrete. Pain was set aside in favour of urgency, and Mickie was up and moving once more, bare feet slapping against the asphalt of the road.
A distant roar drew his attention from the ongoing gunfire to the sloped highway. Bulky vehicles of dark metal had pulled onto the slope and were gunning right for him. Mickie swore and ducked low, heading for a side street instead. The rain of bullets from the guards finally cut-off as he passed between two bulky towers of grey stone. An empty sidewalk glowing with the light of streetlamps greeted him. The hunted human passed by several alleys, avoiding the first few before turning down one at random, his only real criteria that it took him away from the tower. Contrary to expectations, the narrow path between buildings was well kept. Mickie swerved around pipes protruding from walls as he ran, but at no point did the detritus of life slow his passage.
The roar of engines echoed through the cramped confines of the alley, undercut further by the occasional loud shout. It seemed the enforcers still had his trail. Ahead the alley was intersected by another, Mickie took a sharp turn to try and shake the pursuing demons. A series of twisting turns and hard sprints followed, until Mickie rounded a bend and almost ran headfirst into a dense web of steel. The alley before him was chocked with pipework, leaving little room for anything but a slow crawl. There was no time to turn back now, shouts were coming from all about as his pursuers encircled the block.
Getting onto hands and knees, Mickie crawled into the mess connecting the two walls. Steel jarred his sore shoulder, causing him to wince and throw a pained glance at the offending limb. The jacket had held up against the penetration of the gunshot, not even a mark marring the spot where he had been hit. It had done little to prevent the force from hitting his bones like a hammer, however. Mickie figured something was likely broken within the joint, though he could do little about it. The ever-growing sound of pursuit was the larger issue, a noose tightening about his neck.
Finally making it to the end of the pipework Mickie crawled free, only to curse the moment he stood up. Miz-Mag, who to this point had been silent in his pocket, poked its head out to give a bleary look around.
‘How in the nine did you get us into this much of a bind kid?’
They had emerged into a stretch of alley, though one ending in the solid stone base of a tall building. It was a dead end. Mickie ran to the barrier and found the space between buildings hardly wider than a couple of hand spans. Miz-Mag could make it, but he certainly did not have a chance of squeezing through. The sound of methodical pursuit was close, calls for location and checks that little chance for him to slip by.
Casting about for some means of escape, Mickie’s eyes landed on the mess of pipework he had just exited. The steel barrier ran a good way up the length of the buildings it connected, ending at a distant rooftop. It could work, though he was at risk of being spotted during the extended climb. With no other options remaining, the branded man hooked his good arm around a pipe and hauled himself into the air. It was not easy going, though his shoulder hurt less with each moment it still made pulling with his left arm all but useless.
Disaster struck as he attempted to grab hold of a smaller metal tube, only to have it pull free the moment he put weight on it. The desperate and painful grab he made with his injured arm in response was not enough to regain balance. As a result, Mickie dropped the loose pipe to free up his other hand. The loose debris fell the couple of stories he had climbed to clatter against the concrete below. The racket it made carried through the ongoing thrum of background city noise, a clear signal to any enforcers hunting nearby.
It was not long before Mickie heard the grunts and grumbles of a demon passing under the pipes. All he could do in response was huddle down and hope the hunter failed to look up. A form came into sight, an imp by all appearances. Yet as the fiend stood Mickie realised it had not come alone. Yanking on a lead, the red hell-spawn pulled an odd creature free of the crawl space and into the alley’s end. It was pale, with skin that glistened in the faint light. Four reptilian legs held the body low to the ground, bunched tight with muscle that the imp struggled to shift.
‘It’s a fuckin’ dead-end. Nothing here but dust, I’d say your losing your touch Clappin.’
The enforcer shouted into the web of metal while adjusting its body armour. A response came near immediately, echoing through the tangled mess of steel.
‘I know what I heard. Get the slithestra to check, though I doubt it’ll work, the useless beast.’
Grumbling at the rebuke, the demon kicked aside the loose pipe and turned to its creepy pet.
‘Come on then Dinky, grab a whiff.’
Mickie watched in morbid curiosity as the slimy reptile’s smooth head unfurled like a flower. Folds of flesh curled back to reveal a glistening interior of red, interspersed with fibrous bristles. The living rose tilted towards the sky and Mickie noted a deep inhalation by the expansion of its stomach. He realised then that he was completely screwed. Clearly this animal was used for tracking purposes, and looking at that head, it had an insane sense of smell.
Sure enough, the slithestra hauled upon its leash as it caught a scent. Only it did not turn towards him. The pale dog-lizard pulled forward, dragging its imp towards the end of the alley. They came to a stop before a feature Mickie had overlooked in his earlier panic. Against one of the walls, set into the floor, was a lengthy section of painted metal. The white animal ran straight for it, thin tongues emerging from its head to caress the surface.
‘Woah ho ho, we got something! I told you Dinky always pulls through, don’t ya girl?’
The imp patted the slippery back of its charge, though the creature paid him little mind.
‘You found the mortal?’
An excited response preceded frantic shuffling and grunting. A second demon emerged from the pipes to join the first, not an imp but something closer to Mickie’s own height. Grey skin, devoid of hair, hung from a frame with long limbs. Large flaps dangled from the side of its head, and it took him a moment to realise they were ears. The gangly creature stood and dusted itself off before examining the empty alley.
‘I don’t see a mortal.’
The over excited imp seemed not to notice the irritation in its partner’s tone.
‘That would be because it’s gone below, look how keen Dinky is on that cover.’
Indeed, the strange dog-lizard was attempting to nose its way past the metal plate. Numerous fleshy strands curled and tugged at any gaps, though they failed to gain enough purchase to shift heavy barrier. The Imp enthusiastically hauled his pet aside, then motioned its partner towards the covering.
‘Shift it would you, we should take a look.’
The elephant eared demon hesitated at the coating of slime the creepy animal had applied to the old metal. Even now the pale beast’s head flaps quivered as it strained against its leash.
‘Can’t you? I mean, you are closer to the ground than me.’
‘You got salt for brains? I’ve got to manage Dinky. Go on, hurry up.’
With great reluctance the taller of the pair hooked its fingers in small handholds before shifting the plate aside. The moment a dark tunnel was revealed the metal was dropped to the ground with a thud. The grey demon wiped its fingers of in disgust as it peered into the darkness. Nearby, the imp was desperately attempting to control its pet as the beast strained to reach the open hole.
‘Well, what’s down there?’
The wrinkled fiend stared into the pit for a silent few moments before letting lose an abrupt curse.
‘By the blood. We didn’t find the mortal, we found a damned Urchin den.’
Though the name meant nothing to Mickie, the discovery appeared to be of some import. The imp was so shocked it dropped the leash of the slithestra. In moments the pale beast was diving headfirst into the hole, vanishing from sight.
‘Shit! Dinky!’
‘Idiot!’
The two enforcers both leapt for the vanishing leash but got in each other’s way. They rolled on the floor as their charge disappeared into darkness. While the imp appeared ready to jump right in the flappy eared demon grabbed hold of it, lifting the smaller creature from the ground.
‘You idiot! If that stinking beast ruins our chance at a raid, it’ll be both our hides.’
‘I’ve got to get her. She just smelled a human is all.’
Panic laced the smaller fiend’s words, it clearly wished to take off after the wayward lizard-dog.
‘Right. You need to go get the slithestra and keep it from fucking anything else up. I’m going to go grab the chief, if the den has anything in it, we need to strike before they realise their caught out. I’ll be back soon, so get the beast and hold, it, steady.’
While far calmer than its companion, the taller demon’s tone was laced with frustrated anger. The imp was more than happy to agree, taking off into the hole the moment its feet touched the ground. With a final glare and curse for its clumsy companion, the remaining fiend turned and crawled back into the wall of pipes.
‘Welp, I have no idea what just happened,’
Miz-Mag’s voiced Mickie’s own thoughts perfectly. It appeared that the duo of enforcers had been using a combination of sound and smell to hunt them. Yet for some reason the pale beast on which they had been relying had failed to detect Mickie. Not only that, but it found something else entirely. The branded man recalled they had called the hole in the ground an Urchin den, he would have to remember that. For now however, they needed to make use of their pursuers distraction. Mickie gradually swung back out from his nook amongst the pipes and began the climb anew. If the enforcers were going to keep their eyes on the ground, then the rooftops were by far the best choice.
The small rest had done wonders for Mickie’s shoulder, and the duo made good time up the cylindrical forest of steel. Occasionally there would be a shout from within the opened crevasse below, the imp calling to its pet. As they neared the top of a building however the shouts suddenly spiked in both intensity and frequency. The imp started screaming madly, yelling at something to stay back. With a hand reaching for the concrete edge of a roof, Mickie froze. He glanced back down to the open pit and saw occasional flashes of torchlight. It must have been the imp, screaming as it ran from some unseen foe. The shouts reached a feverous pitch, then with a faint gasp, tumbled into groaning sobs. Words were spoken in an incoherent jumble that Mickie could not make out.
A sudden clang from below broke him from his distraction. It was followed by a demon cursing in a deep voice, different from the duo he had heard earlier. Mickie swiftly caught hold of the adjacent rooftop and pulled himself onto its concrete balustrade. A final peak revealed a bulky form of glistening black scales, dragging itself out of the pipe work. Unwilling to risk being spotted, he rolled onto the roof and motioned for Miz-Mag to observe. The little demon was more than happy to lean over the side and relate the events within the alley.
‘The imp’s gotten mighty quiet. Whatever’s in that pit sure ain’t friendly.’
He rolled his eyes, that was not exactly an update.
‘There’s a big old demon checking out the whole, some kind of snake monster. Oh, and the other grey fellow from before is crawling out the pipes to join him.’
A deep voice rumbled up over the building’s wall, just audible enough for Mickie to make out.
‘The fool went into the den, did he?’
The response was in the recognizable voice of the grey demon, though it held the rigidity of reporting soldier.
‘Yes sir. The slithestra got loose and ran into the Urchin den. My partner followed soon after to secure it.’
‘Then that would have been him I heard dying before.’
There was weary resignation in the statement. The voice of someone reaching an unwanted but expected conclusion.
‘I believe so sir.’
If the death of its partner fazed the fiend, it was not betrayed in its response. Miz-Mag had been staying silent so they could listen, but now piped up in a rapid whisper.
‘The big guy is turning back, heading for the pipes. I think he’s going to leave.’
‘Sir, what about the den?’
The voice of the remaining enforcer reached them as Mickie’s companion finished its explanation.
‘We’ll need a specialist force, though I doubt there will be anything left after your partner’s efforts. Call dispatch and join a new team, we have a mortal to catch.’
‘Yes sir.’
Soon after Miz-Mag reported that the duo had left the alley, apparently to rejoin the hunt for him. Giving his demonic pursuers enough time to get some distance, the branded man eventually shifted onto his knees. Peering back over the side provided no new insight as to what this Urchin den was. Looking into the hole’s dark depths Mickie felt he could almost make something out. A glint in the black, like eyes reflecting light. Then it was gone, leaving him questioning if there had been anything there at all.
‘That sure was exciting kid. Now we just need to get off this roof.’
Mickie nodded, still not comfortable enough to voice a response with the patrols about. The rooftop upon which they stood appeared like any other in the living world. A concrete surface, hosting several vents and whirring fan units. Disjointed buildings hemmed the duo in on all sides, lights shinning from the occasional window up above. Beyond the high rises was a void that swallowed all light, a darkness that obscured the rocky ceiling. It reminded him of the abyss below the palace, and the mortal suppressed a shudder as he turned away.
‘This place is a maze.’
His small companion spun about on its concrete perch.
‘That it is. Glad we got that butt ugly tower as a guide.’
The little demon leapt atop Mickie’s shoulder as he stood. Unless they wanted to climb back down into the mess of alleyways, their options were limited. Luckily for the duo, the buildings in the black city differed from the usual high rises on earth in their manner of design.
The structure about them were messy, with jutting overhangs, extruding pipework and haphazard balconies up their length. Mickie’s surrounds were so uniformly unique that it made the normal rooftop on which he stood appear as the oddity. The wacky cityscape did offer something other than confusing geometry however, a path forward. With his demonic powers the mortal was certain he could make his way above the alleys and emerge outside the cordoned zone. If he could manage that then slip into a crowd, it would be near impossible for the enforcers to find him.
It did not take long for him to find the tower in which he had arrived. It loomed above all the other buildings, a dark observer to a city of perpetual night. Unlike the surrounding structures, this one was composed of black panelling, making it appear sleek and sinister. The spire did not end in the traditional point one might expect, rather there was something perched atop its peak. Like a cauldron balanced on a pencil, this round structure appeared far too large for its position. It was so far up that significant details were difficult to make out, though he could see lines running from the monstrous bowl into the city. Tethers perhaps? Or maybe alternate paths to the construction? Either way the landmark made for an effective means of orientation.
Mickie turned from the spire and made his way to a promising edge of the rooftop. Across a narrow gap an odd section of steel protruded from one of the misshapen buildings. It ran up the length of the structure, passing by a narrow ledge to join with the base of an overhang. Stopping a few steps from the open air, Mickie prepared himself for the jump.
‘You ready Mag?’
He spoke low, wary of attracting a nearby enforcer’s attention. On his shoulder the little demon latched onto his jacket’s collar.
‘You know it kid. Let’s thread this needle.’
A few steps later he was flying towards the metal spine, hands grabbing hold and feet springboarding against concrete panelling. In moments the mortal was pulling himself onto the nearby ledge, pressing against the wall to stay out of sight.
‘Well, that wasn’t so bad.’
Miz-Mag’s chipper squeak was right in his ear.
‘Now we just have to do it another few hundred times.’
This was going to take a while.
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An indeterminate amount of time was spent slinking from overhang to rooftop, scrambling along pipes and jumping deadly gaps. At one stage the pair were forced to bunker down on a balcony as the narrow alley floor became flooded with sound and movement. While the event itself had risked exposer to uncountable eyeballs, the aftermath left him feeling rather optimistic. This had to be another shift change, just like what had been happening in the central spire. If he was not spotted, this influx of mortals and demons would wreak havoc on any hunting attempt.
Soon after, the growing desperation of his pursuers was confirmed. A hissing sound had Mickie ducking low, only to straighten out when a metallic object zipped by overhead. It appeared to be some form of drone, equipped with a swivelling camera and deadly looking turret. Too bad the device had no chance of spotting him. The enforcers had to know he did not appear on digital observation. The fact they were even trying indicated the ground patrols were losing hope. Mickie stood to get moving as the whirring drone darted around a corner and vanished from sight. Sudden voices from the alley below had him dropping swiftly back into cover.
‘Damned never going to find the blighter with this tech. I heard it don’t even appear on camera.’
‘You hear that when you were kissing the captain’s bunghole?’
Enforcers by the sounds of it, a pair of them. They were not the first he had slunk by, though most were not this vocal. There was a shove and a shout from the alley.
‘Watch it, or I’ll send you Urchin hunting once I get the new office.’
A grumbled response came that Mickie could not make out, when the first voice spoke again it sounded smug.
‘That’s what I thought.’
Silence returned briefly before the smug demon’s loud rasp reached him once more, this time from further down the alley.
‘I reckon it’s sabotage that they won’t let us deploy flyers. I bet they don’t even want us to catch the bastard.’
The duo was getting further away, and Mickie did not here the other fiend’s response. It must have been insulting because the voice reached him a final time, fading as the enforcers walked away.
‘Get stuffed. The boss knows what he’s about. It’s higher up, I bet it’s that slimy bastard…’
Mickie waited until he was certain the demons had moved on before continuing. The contents of their conversation had been interesting, though nothing that he could really use. It sounded as if the enforcers had attempted to deploy some form of aerial surveillance beyond the drones. An attempt that had apparently been blocked by someone up the chain of command.
Another period of tense climbing followed the encounter with the chatty demons. When distraction next came it was in the form of a rocky cliff face. Mickie had just swung around the side of a building to land on a slanted overhang when it appeared. Only a few towers away the alley ended abruptly, the structures to either side replaced with grey stone. While steep, the cliff was not overly tall, only slightly higher than his own current elevation. Beyond the earthen barrier were more buildings, shorter and more ragged than those within this sunken portion of the city. It was the perfect place in which to disappear.
‘Well, I’ll be, guess lady luck does swing by Hell on occasion.’
Miz-Mag was just as pleasantly surprised as its mortal partner. While the cliff might deter most denizens of this realm, they had almost already cleared the rock wall. It was a straightforward path among the twisted high rises for the pair to close in on the next level. In short order Mickie was swinging onto a balcony that overlooked the open air above the cliff. He took a moment to gauge the jump. It was quite a distance, necessitated by the gap between his building and floor beyond. The jump would not be pleasant, but all he had to do was clear a dozen or so meters of open ground before reaching the next warren of alleys. There was a good chance he would be spotted, but it would be easy to slip away without enforcers in every direction.
‘Okay. Here were go.’
A few steps run up was all the balcony provided. The duo used them as best they could, launching onto the metal guard rail and flying towards the stony earth. Wind roared in Mickie’s ear and the corners of his lips twitched up in a smile of exhilaration. Then they met the ground, and he was rolling with the impact, strange demon bones handling the fall with little difficulty. A distant shout reached Mickie, but it was too late, he was already vanishing into the warren cramped buildings.
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In the distance an imp assigned to patrol the city edge had seen the mortal jump. It knew something was going on down near the sunken tower, though no one had deemed to tell it what. It had called out to the foolish creature, only to be surprised once more when the human rolled to its feet and ran for the warren. How in the nine could one of the slaves shrugged off such a jump? Movement from nearby drew the guard’s attention. Something across the gap had shifted within the shadows, though he saw nothing when he looked. Strange, for just a moment the imp could have sworn it saw a figure standing in the dark.