The next level of the city was a cramped maze of stacked tenancies. Lights were strewn about buildings, a confusing mix of fluorescence and neon that disoriented as much as it illuminated. Narrow balconies and walkways clogged the air above, making the blackened sky only visible for small moments. The warren of twisting pathways was the perfect place for a man and demon to lose their pursuers. While the branded mortal would have to pause at some stage to get his bearings, Mickie was more concerned about putting some distance between himself and the enforcers. He had spent a good portion of his life in places like this and knew how reluctant the policing force would be to enter the maze.
Unlike the sunken district of abstract towers, these streets were far from empty. Demons of all varieties moved amongst the interconnected floors, like ants in a nest. They paid him little heed, only appearing to take any notice of the mortal when he got in the way. Occasionally Mickie would spot loitering clusters of fiends down streets and alleys, huddled in low circles. At one stage he was brought to a standstill by the scene of a shakedown in progress. A gaggle of insectile demons surrounded a much larger hell spawn, threatening it with heavy looking batons. It was not out of sympathy for the lonely victim that he stopped, however. Rather, it was the assailants themselves that caused Mickie duck beside the alley entrance to watch the robbery in progress.
In his occasional glimpses, Mickie had begun to note a pattern in the composition of the gangs. While the demons that composed each cluster were endlessly varied, they all held a common thread. There was always at least one of these insects in the mix. They were hunched things, perhaps five feet tall on average. If they wore anything at all it was long cloaks that hung just below oddly jointed knees. The reason from the lack of garb was made apparent by the four limbs emerging from a chitinous torso. Adding in the creepy mix of locust and human features they had for a head, and these demons were a disturbingly memorable sight. Watching the cornered fiend take a swing and catch a baton in the back, Mickie concluded that all the gangs he had seen to this point were likely under the same banner. These insects probably ran some form of syndicate, one that he had fled unknowingly into. Depending on the influence held by this group, they could pose both a benefit and a liability. On one hand crime organisations did not take kindly to organised policing forces entering their territory. On the other they could be a nightmare to deal with if you got on their bad side. He knew that from experience.
So, as the robbery transitioned to a full beatdown, the man and the demon snuck away. With his new deduction of their current situation, Mickie felt it better to be cautious than outright speedy. He needed to fly under the radar and use the gang to his advantage. Though it would be wise to slip out of the district as soon as possible. To that end the mortal went looking for a way up to the raised walkways. If he could catch sight of the central spire, he could orient himself and hopefully make a direct line away from the enforcers. A downcast human clued him in to the location of a shadowed staircase as they stepped out. The individual passed Mickie without even looking up, though at this stage he had grown used to the downtrodden demeanour of his fellow mortals. Reaching a raised path crudely welded to the cramped buildings, he located the massive ball structure hanging above the tiered metropolis. Its position to his right indicated how turned around he had gotten with the warren of builings.
‘Kid. Something’s watching us.’
The squeaky whisper was so sudden it made him jump. Rather than look to Miz-Mag for confirmation Mickie immediately scanned his surroundings for a threat. A fellow human, a pair of raged imps and a harassed looking humanoid fiend, but nothing looking his way. Strange, his companion had sounded frantic, almost fearful. He gave the demon a questioning look.
‘Can’t you see it? There, under the landing.’
Mickie followed the tiny red finger to a small set of stairs connecting the raised walkway to a building’s entrance. Beneath the landing was a shadowy recess, darkened by the poor lighting. He squinted into the space and saw nothing, no glint of eyes or distortion of movement. Yet Miz-Mag had sounded adamant. Mickie turned to ask the diminutive demon what it had seen when he caught something in his periphery. A moving outline, fast and near imperceptible. It was for less than an instant, but it was enough for the wary mortal. Without reacting to the shifting shadow, Mickie moved to the stairs and returned to a lower level. Whatever had bean beneath those stairs was dangerously fast, and he did not want to give away the fact they had noticed it. Mickie was unsure he would be able to get away from it in open pursuit, and he did not want to attract the gang’s notice with incautious movement. For now, it would be better to have Miz-Mag observe and report if they were being trailed.
‘Hey Mag, keep an eye out, will you?’
Entering the noisy streets once more, he felt comfortable in a whispered request. It would be impossible to make out his voice amongst the ongoing clamour of the city.
‘You got it kid.’
They set out once more, switching direction at a promising intersection to move away from the central spire. For a time, the duo travelled in tense but untroubled silence. Mickie caught sight of another couple of gang clusters, though Miz-Mag made no report of the strange shadow following them. Just as Mickie began to grow comfortable in the prospect of their escape the little demon on his shoulder tensed up.
‘Kid, I got something.’
At that moment a trio of cloaked insects emerged from an alley up ahead. They near immediately spotted Mickie, and after a whispered discussion began walking his way with purpose. The branded man had no clue what drew their attention, but the timing could not have been worse.
‘It’s behind us kid, definitely following.’
Mickie desperately wanted to turn and catch a glimpse of their shadowy pursuer, but the trio of insects were almost upon him. He turned his eyes to the ground, hoping they still might let him slip past. However the insects spread out as they closed, attempting to hem him in.
‘Hey slave. You look mighty familiar. Stop for a quick word would you.’
The demon’s voice was a disturbing buzzing gurgle, as unappealing as the creatures themselves. Mickie did not even bother to glance up, moving ahead with his head down. Before the insectile creature could continue he was pushing past it. The gang members seemed frozen in place for a moment, shocked by his complete dismissal. However, their inaction did not hold for long and in moments a clawed hand had grasped Mickie’s arm.
‘You brain dead slave? Speak when spoken to.’
With a yank his arm came free from the demon’s hold.
‘Shadow’s moving in kid. I can see it, shaped like one of you humans.’
With a trio of angry demon’s behind him, and a shadowy pursuer closing in, Mickie let caution fall to the wayside. He had hoped the insects might show restraint on such a busy street, however it appeared they were more than willing to go at him in the open. Perhaps word of his flight had been spread, maybe even a bounty placed upon his head. Dashing down the alley at a sprint, Mickie gave his predicament no further thought beyond how to escape it.
For all that the gang members were sleek in form, they were not altogether fast. In almost no time at all, Mickie had outstripped the trio and was taking several swift turns to lose them entirely. He weaved through crowded confines, clambering up along rickety walkways when the streets became too cramped for his rapid pace.
‘Nice work kid, we definitely dropped those demons, can’t see our shadowy friend either.’
Mickie vaulted the rail on a raised path to land just within a quiet alley. Heading back onto the bustling streets, the hunted human was once again walking undisturbed. While the demon’s might be onto him, Mickie was just one human among multitudes. If he kept his head down it should still be possible to fly under the radar. Their peace was destined to be short lived however, as Miz-Mag started before whispering in his ear.
‘I see it again. Damn thing got ahead of us.’
‘Where?’
It appeared their silent tail was not so easily deterred.
‘Level up on the left, hiding in the shadow of a doorframe.’
Doing his best to not directly peer at the indicated spot Mickie performed a scan of their. Sure enough there was a tall figure, veiled within darkness cast by neon light. He did not dare look straight at it, so all Mickie could glean from his brief glimpse was a vague humanoid outline. The creature meshed seamlessly into the backdrop of the noisy streets, without Miz-Mag he would never have spotted it.
‘What even is it?’
‘No idea kid. Only thing I’ve ever seen that sneaky before is me.’
They were closing in on the raised shadow, and Mickie was wary of continuing to speak.
‘Keep an eye on it, see if you can figure out why its tailing us but not attacking.’
Miz-Mag gave its ascent and the pair continued as if nothing were amiss. It took all the self-control Mickie could muster to not peek up at the door frame when they passed below. His neck itched with the expectation of a blow that never came as they passed their pursuer.
‘Alright, its back on our heels, keeping a steady distance.’
He wanted to curse. Why was this this only following them? It played on Mickie’s nerves as they wandered ever onwards. The shadow was always following, and as time wore on it began to close on the duo. Miz-Mag would lose sight of the figure only for Mickie to stumble upon glimpsing movement out of the corner of his eye. He ached to call his gun forth, but doing so would not go unnoticed in this bustling district.
‘Shit. Dead ahead.’
Mickie looked up to find the street beyond them devoid of life. The ever-present flow of demons and mortals alike had been purposefully halted by a large group of insectile thugs. Even as he watched more piled out of an alley to take up positions in their path. His stomach dropped, and Mickie turned about to find yet more bugs shuffling out of buildings and dropping from raised pathways. Only now he realised what their shadowy pursuer’s intent had been. To shepherd them straight into a trap.
‘It’s up above. On the platform.’
Knowing that he had been duped, Mickie gave up any pretence of subtlety and looked straight at the creature. The moving shadow appeared to have also dropped its game of hide and seek. On the highest level of rickety paths stood a figure draped in darkness. In the glaring lights of the labyrinthine warren, he realised it was wearing some kind of cloth. A full body covering that seemed to blur at the edges, making it difficult to focus on the demon itself. Mickie’s eyes drifted instead to the one feature that was not hidden behind the strange fabric. A set of eyes, red and sharp as a hawk’s. In them Mickie could make out no amusement or satisfaction at his plight, only cold calculation.
‘Hello slave. We had reports you were scampering about our nest. So nice of you to come and pay tribute.’
An insect emerged from the pack blocking his path, strutting with a confident gait. It spoke in the same buzzing gurgle as the trio he had encountered before, though with a tone dripping in satisfaction.
‘Heard you came from the tower. Black Watch was gunning for you pretty hard for a while there.’
Mickie gave the demon his full attention. It move towards him at a steady pace with a baton in each hand. Looking at the surrounding ambush, he realised that none of the fiends had anything worse that a heavy stick. They must be planning to take him alive. The branded man flexed his right hand, perhaps he could still get through this.
‘Well slave? You going to speak? Or do we have to make you talk?’
It was getting close now, shifting the pair of batons to a ready position for a strike. Mickie slowly inhaled, and in doing so empty his mind of its circling thoughts. He needed to be scarier than the demons themselves to make it out of here.
‘Something I’ve noticed.’
He spoke with a steady cadence, not to the approaching demon but to those still barricade his path forward.
‘Is that you bugs have rather scrawny necks.’
Legs bunched and launched him forth. The bug coming at him was startled, but still swung its batons to strike the aggressive human. Mickie was already in its guard however and he grasped the insect as its weapons thudded into his back. Even with the swing coming from a weak angle it hit hard. As scrawny as these demons appeared, they still packed a punch. Mickie took hold of the demon’s shoulders, pinning it for a moment. Unlike the Palace Lord, the heads of these beings followed a different route. Compound eyes reflected an uncountable number of gloved hands as Mickie reached forward. Fingers pushed into a surface that was strangely rigid, like half frozen jelly. He twisted and pulled, ripping the insect’s right eye straight from its head.
The creature let lose a gurgling wail and attempted to back away. Mickie intended to keep it pinned with his free hand but found the strength of the bug overpowering. Instead, he moved within it, stepping into the body of the creature and tripping its oddly jointed legs. The demon lost its leverage and Mickie pounced on the flailing creature. He spun it as it fell, turning the bug to face its stunned brethren. One hand grabbed an empty eye socket, the other a shoulder. With a savage twist Mickie snapped the screaming fiend’s neck. Its cries gurgled to a halt, and Mickie dropped his dying assailant to the floor. It landed in a boneless heap and, too his shock, the damaged head popped free of the body. The ichor coated ball rolled from the corpse, coming to rest beside Mickie’s bare foot.
‘By the blood. Your tore its head off kid.’
Surprised that mirrored Miz-Mag’s own flittered about the hollow man’s mind, but he paid it no heed. The goal had been to appear savage; this was to his advantage. Mickie scooped up the dripping head and stepped over the bug’s corpse. Holding the grisly trophy with a loose grip, he started towards the blockade of insects. They watched him approach in wary silence, fear keeping their batons at bay for a shocked few moments. For all these bugs were terrifying demons, they were also thugs of a kind with which Mickie was familiar. Driven by an unstable mix of loyalty and self-interest, it was easy to throw them off by inducing a healthy dose of fear.
The group would inevitably overcome Mickie if they were to swarm him, but none wanted to be the first out the gate. Inevetably however, something would set them straight, and Mickie knew it almost time to act when a taller bug spoke up.
‘Don’t just stand there, you cowards. Get the stinkin’ mortal.’
Judging by the demon’s position near the back, Mickie guessed it to be a leader of some form. The insect sounded disdainful of its brethren, playing on their pride to spark a reaction. However, the gang did not immediately charge. Initially responses to the call were lacklustre, some grumbling and shifting of stances.
‘Looks like I’m stuck with the mother’s shit, not her spawn. You’re all softer than that fleshy slave. How ‘bout this then, first one to belt that skin-sack gets primo seat at the hall tonight.’
Mickie had no idea what a primo seat was, but it must have been something special. Immediately all the demons perked up and turned greedy eyes upon him. The problem with praying on self-interest, was that it could just as easily be swung back against you. He was prepared for this however, being little more than a few strides from the barrier of agitated insects. Before the first bug could charge Mickle lobbed the bloody head of their companion into the front ranks of the crowd. The demons closest to the disturbing object staggered back, only to be met with those begining to surge forwards.
In the minor confusion that followed, the man and his demon closed the remaining distance and Mickie called forth his gun. Something he had realised when he saw the batons amongst the assailants, was that they lacked knowledge of his most potent weapon. If the demon’s knew he could call on a deadly firearm at will, there was no way they would have met him with wooden sticks. So, when the apparently insane mortal before them raised an evil looking firearm, the insects seemed understandably confused. Mickie willed the wolf’s head into place, and it spun to the top with a heavy click.
There was a moment of silence in which the gang members seem to register what was about to happen. Then he fired into their midst with a breath of sulphuric fumes. From this distance the blast caught three insects, continuing to send several more sprawling in various states of misery. The attack seemed to send the unprepared gang into a mixture of panic and fury. Screams of pain intermingled with shouts of anger as Mickie charged the opening he had carved into their ranks.
A baton cracked painfully into his ribs, a claw grasped for his arm but failed to find purchase. An insect moved in front of Mickie, and he barrelled right into it. The demons might have been strong, but they were not overly heavy. He lifted the chitinous creature right off the ground and flung it aside, clearing the path to freedom. One final insect that had been hanging at the back attempted to bar his passage, but it staggered back when he raised his steaming gun. The weapon might have still been in its reload cycle, but the bugs didn’t know that.
Stolen story; please report.
By the time the demon realised he could not shoot, Mickie was gone. It took a few moments for the gang to realised he had slipped their grasp. When his escape finally registered the cries of anger and outrage chased him down the streets. Without paying any attention to direction he fled through the cramped warren of tenements. The world narrowed to the path ahead, turn after turn, jumping onto raised walkways, barging through a group surrounding an alley trash fire. Miz-Mag screamed encouragement as the disparate lights became a strobing mass that ached behind his eyes. There was no time to check if the shadow was still following them, speed outweighed all caution.
Even with his demonic body Mickie’s lungs began to burn. His movements became clumsier until he slipped on a grimy piece of detritus and tumbled around a corner. Scrambling back to his feet the gasping mortal was met with a dead end. Ahead the buildings came to a stop at a familiar ridge of rough stone. It stretched upwards, terminating in what had to be the next level of the city. Mickie moved to the stone wall, searching for some path up its steep incline. Unlike the sunken towers however, this hive of activity held no buildings tall enough to surpass the barrier. They were stuck.
‘Welp kid, that’s rough. At least we shook the bugs.’
Miz-Mag poked its tiny head out from one of his jacket pockets. His partner clambered back to its usual perch and glanced about their surroundings.
‘At least we can take it easy again. I’d say we just follow the wall ‘till we find a way up.’
It was essentially their only option at this point, Mickie opened his mouth to agree when his companion abruptly stiffened.
‘Kid. It’s here.’
He didn’t need to be told twice. Looking to the pathways above it did not take long to pinpoint a blurred figure within the dark. Instead of pretending ignorance Mickie glared straight at it, his gun held loose by his side.
‘I’m getting tired of you. I’d recommend you get lost.’
From the oval outline of a head with red eyes came into focus. As they met his own the figure straightened and dropped lightly to the alley floor.
‘It is rare for a mortal to be so perceptive.’
The voice was quiet, but it cut with an edge of hard ice.
‘Your kind are normally blind to anything but themselves.’
Mickie’s grip tightened on his weapon.
‘Well, I can see you, and unless you move real quick, I’ll kill you too.’
‘You cannot harm me, though that is an interesting item that you hold. The result of a deal made, no doubt.’
The branded man did not bother replying. He started towards the shadow cloaked fiend, raising his gun to blast it aside. The unshakable stalker was blocking his way out of the alley, and he could not afford to stand around talking. A shiny leopard’s head snarled, and Mickie fired in a burst of black smoke. From this close there was no chance of missing. In fact, his attack should have blown the top half of the demon clean off. Instead, its form burst into a writhing mass of darkness, sourceless shadow given life. A pair of veiled legs protruded from the uncanny display, stationary as the tendrils of darkness twisted and folded in on themselves.
‘By the blood.’
Miz-Mag let out a soft curse, only able to watch alongside Mickie as their silent foe reformed from darkness itself. Mere seconds after the branded man had shot the fiend, it stood whole before them once more.
‘You cannot kill me. Now mortal, you will come willingly, or I will take you by force. There are no alternatives.’
There was no surprise or sadism in the veiled demon’s icy words. It spoke only with deadly surety. Mickie was speechless. He had blown apart heavy metal doors with his gun, had killed one of the Mechanist’s robotic forms. How could something of simple flesh and blood simply have shrugged off his attack like it was nothing? Unless it was not flesh and blood. An uncomfortable wariness settled in his chest. A few long moments had stretched since the demon made its declaration. The creature did not seem overly pressed for time, happy to wait for its prey to make a move. The metal weapon in Mickie’s hand clicked and he fired straight into torso of the fiend. Again, the demon’s form exploded into a mass of writhing darkness. Except this time the twisting shadows were topped by an intact head. Red eyes stared the cornered human down as the fiend’s body reformed. The process ended with it standing intact before them once more.
‘Futility truly is a hallmark of the damned.’
All he could do was stand there in impotent frustration as the gun hissed and rotated barrels. This was not a foe he could best. All that left was an attempt at escape. The wolf’s head clicked into position and Mickie sprung into action. He moved to dart by the shadow clad demon, firing into it legs. While the attack had the same effect as all the others before, it also served to delay the response of his pursuer. The red eyed fiend’s legs disappeared in a blast of shadow as he dove past. A blade appeared right before his eyes, yet vanished into black fog when it made contact with him. Unable to pause and consider the attack, or the fact it had no effect, Mickie was on his feet in moments and running.
As it stood the best way to the next level was the sloped road he had seen from the central spire. It appeared to be the main avenue between the massive steps that made up the sunken city. Dashing madly onwards he always kept the cliff to his right, hoping to follow its curve to the road. Any passerby that blocked his path was simply bowled over, be it mortal or demon. Miz-Mag was perched atop his shoulder and keeping an eye on their surround. Knowing what his partner was looking for, Mickie was fast to react when it shouted a warning.
‘Kid, right side. Shit! Get down!’
He did not hesitate and dropped low for a few strides. It was just in time too, as something blurred over his head, clipping his scalp with a stinging line of fire. The shadowy pursuer seemed to have realised how durable his clothes were and gone for the head. Miz-Mag’s assistance had been timely however, the throwing knife that clattered against the concrete walkway might have done more than scratch him otherwise. He took the next available turn, knowing that now demon was on them it would be difficult to shake. Perhaps if he could get it in the open, he could slow it with another shot from his gun. Yet Mickie hardly made more than a dozen paces around the corner before he stumbled. A wave of vertigo had abruptly come over him and left a numb lethargy as it receded. Heedless of the issue, he made another few staggering steps before his legs locked up. Miz-Mag cursed as Mickie tumbled to the hard floor, his limbs failing him.
‘Kid, what are you doing? We need to run!’
His mouth felt as if it were filled with wet cement.
‘The knife. Poison.’
It had to be. There was nothing else that could have brought upon this immobility so suddenly. As if to confirm his slurred statement, a figure dropped from a nearby rooftop. It touched down lightly and walked casually towards the immobile human. Mickie saw blood red eyes glinting with a callous cold.
‘Foolish to the last. You could never escape me.’
The demon bent down and flipped Mickie onto his back. Limbs flopped like wet noodles, yet he could feel none of the rough treatment.
‘Venom of the Horned Invirae. You will be little more than a corpse until receiving the antidote. This would have been easier if you came quietly, slave.’
‘Shit kid, this don’t look good.’
Miz-Mag squeaky voice barely penetrated the fog that had rolled over his mind. Mickie attempted to focus on his companion but found his eyes traitorously unresponsive. The shadowy demon spoke from just above him, softly as if to someone else.
‘I have the human from ninth. Requesting a collection.’
A brief pause followed, in which the poisoned mortal tried in vain to shift his unresponsive limbs, yet he remained a prisoner within his own skin.
‘Transmitting location now. Target will be on rooftop.’
‘Come on kid, you got to move, got to fight it.’
Mickie could not even look at Miz-Mag to convey he was trying. In the distance came the sound of overlapping footsteps, growing louder. A buzzing voice soon reached them over the increasing clamour.
‘This way fools. The Mother will string us by our toes if we don’t catch…’
The shouting came to an abrupt halt, the owner of the voice apparently coming upon the immobile mortal and shadow clad fiend.
‘Well call me a bloodhound’s flea. You actually pulled through. Not half bad for the spawn of a traitor.’
He could hear the approach of the insect, until his captor stopped it with a sharp warning.
‘Another step bug, and I will peel your back from your body.’
For all its bravado, the new arrival appeared to take that as an honest threat.
‘What are you on about? We had a deal. You bring the slave to us.’
‘I did bring it to you. Placed it into the centre of your ambush. It is no fault of mine that you failed to detain it.’
‘You traitorous witch. You would twist a deal made against the hive? Within our own warren no less?’
The insect was so angry it disregarded the other his captor’s warning. Mickie heard the heavy click of claws on stone followed by a heavy thud. Then the screaming started. Unable to move or even see what was happening, Mickie could only listen as the bloody eyed shadow made good on its threat. Minutes of agonised wails interspersed with pleas for aid were all he could make out. Eventually the pained cries faded to soft sobs and the cold voice of his poisoner rang through the alley.
‘Our deal was made and completed. I expect the remainder of my payment for services rendered before the next cycle. Any who would contest this should do so now.’
Mickie could almost picture the alley as the silence dragged, a mob of insectile demons unwilling to suffer their brethren’s fate.
‘Good. As there is currently no contract in place for this slave’s capture, I will be claiming it. You may extract the payment for hunting within the warren from our prior deal.’
He desperately tried to move, to escape before he was dragged into whatever hole his shadowy captor had in store. It was like the Mechanist all over again. Mickie pushed against the lethargy in his limbs to no avail. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, the alley suddenly came into focus, his eyesight clearing in mere moments. Great, now he would be able to see his fate coming alongside hearing what was in store. His vision returned just in time to see a mob of insectile demons retreating from a dark form. The demon stood over a twitching mass of ichor and limbs, positioned beside a neat stack of chitinous plates.
‘You think this will be the end of it, traitor spawn? You think the mother will let this slide? When next you meet the hive, be prepared to greet the abyss.’
Fury soaked the parting words of the insects. Mickie knew it was not a baseless threat either. He knew crime, and these bugs were a syndicate of the bloodiest kind. They did not care for the loophole his captor had used to swing the deal. All they cared about was that an outsider had deprived them of their prey, then reduced one of their own to a humiliated wreck. Not that any of this mattered to him, if Mickie could not get moving, he would soon be worse off than the demon twitching on the floor.
Once the final bug had left, the red eyed shadow turned about and approached his limp form. Unwilling to hint at his returned sight, Mickie unfocused his eyes to mimic their prior state. In his periphery the mortal could make out the demon winding something about his wrist. It disappeared from view, and soon he was being hauled into the air by a useless arm.
‘I really don’t like were this is going kid. If you’re gonna do something, then do it now.’
Mickie could not even feel his own body being yanked into the sky, let along move it in resistance. The street receded until he was pulled onto a roof of dusty concrete. The shadowy demon then pulled his hands behind his back to bind them. Even though the action was out of sight, Mickie was surprised to find he could feel the slick binds wrapping about his skin. The fiend paused above him, considering.
‘Oh, by the nine, kid, your gloves.’
The sensation of his gloves being removed was too faint to make out, yet Mickie certainly heard the sharp inhalation of breath. His brand had been seen.
‘I suspected a pact of some kind. But this.’
Blurred feet came to stand before his face.
‘He will be most interested in you.’
----------------------------------------
The remainder of the time on the roof was spent in silence, Mickie desperately trying to regain control of his body. By the time something changed, he was able to twitch his fingers ever so slightly. A hissing whir reached them from above, and his fretful partner’s eyes grew wide at the sight of it.
‘By the blood, it’s some kind of flying machine. Like the one we saw earlier, but huge.’
Whatever was approaching, it marked the end of his chances to slip away. Mickie wanted to shout in frustration but all he could manage was an impotent gurgle, lost in the roar of the approaching vehicle. Wind whipped about his face, hard enough that he felt it through numb skin. Something was clamped tightly about his chest, and before he could discern what, Mickie was lifted off the roof. Miz-Mag appeared to have realised what was going to happen, and managed to grab hold of his jacket collar.
The flying device lifted them up and into the dark skies above the city, and a bloody eyed shadow watched him go. Even if Mickie could move, all escape would grant him now was a rapid fall and deadly landing. Helplessness began to swallow him, even as the city skape came into focus below. The confusing sprawl was spaced out in a series of oversized steps, a circular funnel that ended in the mess of twisted tower he had so recently navigated. The only visible way between the levels was the sloped road he had observed upon arrival. It was one of four, equally spaced about the circular metropolis. They rose through ten staggered levels, before terminating at distant towers. The four paths to the seventh circle that the Conductor had mentioned. It hurt the mortal to see them, at the end of a straight road that was clear, excepting some minor traffic. If only he could have entered the circle unseen.
As Mickie was carried ever upwards his attention left the sprawling metropolis to focus upon his eventual destination. It was not difficult to deduce where the flying device was headed. Only one location required such height to reach. The top of the central spire. In confirmation of this they flew past a massive chain of dark steel. Monstrous links joined to form an impossibly long connector between a distant point in the city and the precarious bowl above. The lines in the sky he had seen were indeed supports for the massive structure. As they neared the top of the spire, more connected chains came into view, some running from the building to the distant ceiling.
Approaching a hole in the side of the spire’s tip, Mickie could finally appreciate just how large the structure was. The curved cup of metal was easily broader than a pair of stadiums set side by side. They were well underneath the widest point when the flyer finally pulled into a large chamber that could only describe as a hangar. Smooth floors were empty but for a few strange vehicles. A pipe laden cross between a drone and a helicopter, they gave Mickie a good idea what his current ride looked like. The flyer came to a hovering standstill beside one of its ilk. Rather than land immediately it kept him dangling a couple of meters from the ground. The reason for this becoming apparent when a massive demon stomped over to their position. It was a giant with stone for flesh and a face that sent shivers down Mickie’s numbed spine. Instead of the usual accompaniment of ears, nose and mouth, this monster had a head packed with eyes. They darted about in every direction as the demon unlatched him from the flying device. Still bound and immobilised by poison, the branded man could do nothing to resist. As the fiend dragged him along the chamber floor however, Mickie balled his hand into a fist. Just a little bit longer.
‘Let’s see that one, Funk.’
The rocky giant came to a stop beside an official looking imp holding some form of electronic pad. Mickie immediately relaxed his muscles and ensured he was staring blankly into space. A beep sounded as the new demon waved the pad against Mickies wrist restraints.
‘Alright. Delivery for the big man from the traitor spawn. Looks like a pact holder, but no details are listed.’
A claw hand shifted the bindings to get a look at the brand.
‘Mark looks familiar, not sure from were though. Other than that, we got a dose of Horned Invirae venom, rough stuff that. Slave looks well enough though, so probably won’t be lethal.’
A moment of silence followed in which the imp tapped away on its pad.
‘Recorded summoning capabilities. A gun, huh that’s pretty unusual. It’ll need a summoner cell then, hand restriction at the least I’d say.’
More typing followed before a hand lightly slapped Mickie’s cheek.
‘Heard there was a lot of trouble to get this one. It doesn’t look like all that much though. Ah well, cleared for arena confinement Funk. Block C, cell seven.’
With that the imp turned away and the new arrival was dragged off by the monstrous demon. Miz-Mag clambered from a pocket to stand right before his face.
‘We’re deep in it now kiddo. You better hope they aren’t as curious as the Mechanist about what your inside look like.’
Mickie had to agree. Time was running out to make a move, he was sure that a prison designed for individuals with capabilities like his would not be easy to escape. He worked his tongue in his mouth, trying to gauge if he was capable of speech yet. Judging he would be able to get a point across Mickie slurred a word to his companion.
‘Bindings.’
The sound of the giant fiend’s movement drowned his mumbled request before it could reach any further than Miz-Mags ears. His diminutive partner gave him an inquisitive look, so Mickie rolled his eyes upwards, towards his bound hands.
‘You want me to free your hands?’
Mickie gave a slight nod.
‘Alright kid, I can give it a try. You better be ready to fight the big guy.’
In short order the tiny fiend had clambered over Mickie’s head and was working to loosen the knotted restraints. All the while the rocky giant dragged the duo ever deeper into the spire’s peak. The paths were narrow and gloomy, the exact kind Mickie would expect to see in a prison. As such it came as a surprise when their passage led into an open hall. It was high ceiling space lined with statues of white marble. The figures appeared to be warriors one and all, dressed in actual armour and holding real weapons in pearly hands. Mickie’s brief observation was cut short however by a squeak of victory.
‘Got it! You better pull your weight kid.’
The bindings locking his hands together abruptly fell apart, dropping Mickie to the floor. Prepared as he was, the branded man was still sluggish from the poison in his veins. Instead of attempting to roll away, he summoned his gun and tilted his head back to find the rocky demon looking at a loose mess of rope in its hands. A number of eyes shifted to the mortal and his gun, but Mickie was already squeezing the trigger. The blast took the creature in the chest, and it reeled backwards with a clamours few steps.
Mickie dismissed his gun before rolling onto his stomach. He felt drunk under the effects of the toxins, his limbs weak and clumsy. Making it to hands and knees the woozy man was attempting to stand when his demonic companion cried a warning.
‘It ain’t dead. Watch yourself!’
Sure enough, the craggy fiend had somehow survived the blast from his gun and was moving towards him on unsteady legs. A good portion of its upper body was gone, the remains crumbling further even as it approached. Alarmed, Mickie made the mistake of summoning his weapon from his precarious position on the floor. While the gun had reloaded, raising his hand unbalanced the inebriated mortal and he toppled while firing. The resulting blast took the giant in the leg instead of the head, destroying the thick limb but not killing its owner. When the creature hit the ground, it wasted no time before beginning to crawl after him.
What followed was a race of snails as he and the wounded demon bumbled about the grand chamber. However, Mickie’s condition was only improving with time, while his rocky pursuer appeared to be crumbling further by the moment. After clearing enough distance, the branded man rolled onto his side and fire a blast straight into the head of the giant. The demon finally fell still, leaving him and Miz-Mag alone but for the rows of statues. It took longer than Mickie would have liked to stand, he knew their recent fight would not have gone unnoticed and reinforcements might already be on their way.
The hall had numerous tunnels leading out, with both ends capped by impressive doors. One set was of banded wood, while the other was a barred monstrosity of black steel. Neither looked overly enticing as far as options went. It would have to be one of the tunnels then. At that moment the unbarred wooden door at the end of the hall burst open. The force of it was such that Mickie almost tripped on his wobbly legs.
The wise response to the sudden change would have been to simply run. However, the shock of the thunderous entrance stopped the demon and mortal in their tracks. The duo looked to the opening as the doors continued to ring from the impact. Walking casually through the threshold was a single figure, a fiend if ever Mickie had seen one. Unlike the often androgenous or indistinguishable demons he had encountered, this being was most certainly male in feature. A dark goatee framed a narrow face of dull red skin, contrasting with eyes that glinted a mischievous emerald. The creature wore a black three-piece suit that reflected the light of the hall. Taloned feet clicked against the floor as it walked, and a wicked grin displayed razor teeth.
‘Oh, dear me. Funk was truly one of my better employees. Did you have to be so… final with it.’
The demon came to a stop as Mickie raised his weapon, and a clawed hand stroked the goatee thoughtfully.
‘You must be the new arrival from ninth. I was so eager to meet you that I rushed over upon hearing you had touched down.’
It looked him up and down.
‘Though I did hear you were dosed up with Invirae. Must be some deal that you made if you can shake of that stuff.’
There was a knowing twist to the tone that made Mickie’s spine crawl. He had a bad feeling about the demon before him, it gave off a presence that felt almost familiar. Akin to one he had felt out on the ice of the white wastes.
‘What are you?’
The demon gave a dark chuckle.
‘What? Rather rude wouldn’t you say. Should the question not be whom?’
It was with the smile of a shark that the old lord of hell answered.
‘I’m certain you must have heard of me. The name's Belphegor, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’