Consciousness returned to the sound of snapping and growling mixed within high pitched, manic laughter.

‘Come now you over sized rat-dog; you won’t be coming through that gap. Go lick your balls instead.’

Mickie turned his head painfully to regard the sight of snapping jaws uncomfortably close to his splayed legs. Jolting upright, he panicked and attempted to shuffle away, only to have his right arm inundated with agony. This pain was not the burn of the brand but a more traditional pounding stab throughout the limb. Moaning incoherently, he turned to the offending arm and found it twisted a direction that was wholly unnatural. A blast of stinking breath cut through the pain and Mickie gingerly sat up while cradling the broken appendage. His head spun with the motion, enough to almost make him retch in combination with the arm. Mickie was lying outside the single small door leading from the Cerburus’ chamber, having somehow made it through the door while unconscious. Nearby was a spiral staircase of shaped stone leading to the castle proper.

‘Are my dear boy, good to see you up and about. Now how about we give this old Mutt a taste of lead hmm.’

Miz-Mag had noted the returning awareness and moved to perch on his knee. Mickie looked from his broken right arm to the demon, then over to the Chihuahua head of the Cerberus. He attempted to take a calming breath.

‘My. Arm. Is. Broken.’

The final word came through a hiss of pain and clenched teeth. Miz-Mag peered at the offending limb and nodded.

‘Ah, that it is. Well, what are you waiting for, straighten it out.’

Mickie stared in horror.

‘Straighten it out. Me?’

The demon glanced about.

‘Well, my friend, if you noticed I’m a bit small so unless you want the dog to do it then it’s got to be you. Quickly now, or it might heal poorly.’

‘What a nightmare.’

‘That’s the idea, we are in Hell you know.’

Mickie stood shakily and started a slow limp up the stairs, he wanted to get away from the Cerberus at the very least. The beast in question howled mournfully after him as the small demon hopped along joyfully at his side, leaping steps as tall as it was with ease. The pain in his limbs mounted until Mickie decided he had come far enough and sat on a stair. While he mental prepared himself for the ordeal ahead Miz-Mag happily chattered away at his side.

‘I tell you, I knew it was a fantastic idea to make a deal with you, the way you handled the warden and humiliated old Cappuccino. I was a touch disappointed you did not wait for me before blasting that lock apart though, we might have avoided that dilemma altogether. But I got to say, blinding the pup with the same shot that busted the door, so it shoved you through while trying to grab you. Some might call it luck, but I got to say that…’

Its ramble was cut off as Mickie pulled his broken arm straight and loosed a roar of pain. Moments passed in incoherence, black spots riding his vision and waves of pain scrambling his thoughts.

‘Ungrateful kid, cutting me off. You would be insect juice without me.’

Mickie’s head cleared as he listened to the demon’s mutterings, arm throbbing but correctly aligned. It was long minutes before the pain settled and he could bear assembling a sentence.

‘I need.’

He swallowed dryly.

‘I need a shower.’

‘Ah the ungrateful sop speaks. Let me tell you kid you’re gonna need to get used to that kinda pain if you want to get out of here.’

‘Shower.’

Miz-Mag’s rambling was working in concert with the pain to drain Mickie’s patience. For its part the demon seemed not to care one bit.

‘Now listen up, I don’t have much time left before I got to rest so you better be taking notes.’

That caught his interest, perhaps the demon did not vanish intentionally?

‘You need to get to one of the secret rooms that are about. Won’t be hard, it’s a big old castle, they’re everywhere. Then you need to wait until I’m back to guide you, otherwise you won’t last two seconds.’

Mickie made to interrupt but was pre-empted as the tiny demon leapt up to grasp hold of his hair and stare eye to eye.

‘No time for backchat. The guards probably heard old Cappuccino raising a ruckus and are gonna come looking. Slip out before that, out the doors up top then to the end of the hall. Take a right then the second right after that. There will be a painting of a frozen cat above a door. Don’t take that door, take the one opposite. The down the hall for another right, up a few stairs then swing left through the door dead ahead. Pull the tail of the…’

The rapid explanation ended abruptly as Miz-Mag vanished without any noise or fanfare. Mickie blinked a few times and glanced about but the demon was gone. Figuring that something was better than nothing he stood and set off slowly up the stairs. Each step sent spikes of pain through his arm though Mickie thought he already felt the limb improving. Occasionally there would be clicks and jolts from within as the bones painfully shifted to their original position. The stairs wound their way upward, eventually coming to a door on a small landing. A replica to the one below, it did not take long for Mickie to realise that the large slab of wood was locked in the same style. He had not actually tried the door below, opting to blast it open rather than take the time to try the handle. Contemplating his busted arm, Mickie thought of summoning his gun to do the same here when muffled voices filtered through the wooden threshold. Unable to make out the words he still recognised the click of a key in the lock. The door creaked open inwards, swing right at him. Rather than resist it Mickie moved with the wooden slab to hide between the wall and the open door. Two diminutive red figures made their way across the threshold and onto the landing within. Mickie did not get a good look at them, only the backs of red wrinkly scalps as they moved down the staircase. He sat praying they would not turn around and notice his huddled form, ready to call his gun and blast them if they did.

‘Aye Timul, just me or does it smell like old blood down here.’

A brief pause followed by loud sniffing.

‘Ain’t like any blood I ever smelt Biffo. You reckon the hound got hold of somethin’ special.’

‘Could be, more like something nasty but. You ever seen old Cappuccino’s heads fight over who gets to lick his bung hole?’

There was coarse laughter, growing fainter as the pair moved away.

‘If that beast has busted open the door downstairs again…’

The voices faded as the two demons descended and Mickie released a tense breath, finally luck had swung his way. Sliding around the door and out of the stairwell he found himself at the end of a long stone hall, lined with fixtures of red glowing stones. The light flickered oddly, providing the impression of firelight within the windowless space. The effect was like a modern recreation of a medieval castle, inconvenient fire swapped for electrical facsimiles. Mickie made his way through the space, feeling extremely exposed. The directions Miz-Mag had provided were hard to recall, though Mickie did his best to recall them upon reaching the first intersection.

‘It was a right. Then another right’

He paused.

‘No, it was the second right.’

Checking the coast was clear he moved through the halls, jumping at any sound and eyes flitting for signs of life. At one stage he passed by a closed door only to have the something slam against it from the other side. There was a piteous moan that hopefully covered his own hiss of pain as Mickie jarred his broken arm. The limb had been improving but he still needed to hold it close and minimise jostling to keep the pain at bay. He found it odd that there was no sign of guards or staff outside the pair he had slipped by earlier. The stone corridors were bare of decoration other than the lighting fixtures and the occasional painting. The uniformity of the space would have had him completely lost without the direction from Miz-Mag. As it was Mickie had to retrace his steps several times after a turn failed to appear or a hall ended abruptly. He did however, eventually find himself before a second staircase. His demon companion had indicated that the stairs would not be that large which made the broad set stretching to a distant landing disconcerting. Perhaps he had got turned around along the way and managed to stumble across a different staircase entirely. Unwilling to risk a more thorough search Mickie hesitated only briefly at the first step before moving upwards.

The climb was slow and presented an extended stretch with clear sightlines above and below. The corridors from before had been winding and short, providing cover and the chance to listen for any guards or servants. The stairs were long, walls bare of anything that might work for cover. He took the steps two at a time, loping up until his breath gave out and Mickie was forced to walk. The experience should have been agony for his busted arm but all he received was a dull throb equivalent to a bad sprain. There was no time to dwell upon the miraculous recovery in his frantic dash for a safe hole in which to hide. The lack of any personnel should have been reassuring but all it left was a growing tension. He could not be this lucky, eventually someone or something would catch sight of him.

Mickie reached the top of the stairs and looked upon at the strange sight of sliding glass double doors. The brickwork ahead ended abruptly where the stairs met the glass, the halls beyond changing to smooth whitewash paint straight out of an office building. Walking up to the glass doors Mickie noted both the square motion sensor mounted to the ceiling, and the pass card scanner set into the wall. The space was open and well lit, there would be no slipping past the guards if they happened to pass by this time. Mickie wandered over to examine the scanner, it was a small black box with a red LED light gently glowing from within.

Perhaps he should have taken out those guards from before, they might have had a card for this scanner. Moving to the door he found the pair tightly sealed with a typical ceiling mounted opening system. Mickie could blow them to pieces and get through with his gun, though that would be noisy to the extreme and he would probably shred his feet on the glass. Instead, he settled on a more subtle form of breaking and entering. He had noted a cool breeze against his bare toes indicating a flow of air, and sure enough the glass rested a couple of centimetres off the ground. With his right arm still recovering Mickie had to settle fitting only his left fingers into the gap and lifting.

The sheet of glass was heavy and unwieldy, taking some shifting and grunting to lift from its plastic floor guides. Lowering the door outside its frame Mickie could now make a gap with which to enter. He moved to one side and began pulling the glass away from the frame to create enough space for entry. The rigid glass was unwieldy and the opening mechanism that held the top creaked in warning. Just a little bit more and he would be out, just a tiny bit more. There was a snap from above and the glass door jolted out of its frame. Mickie stood frozen as it popped free, sliding out and over the edge of the stairs. There was a moment of silence before an alarm rang out, blaring from beyond the door.

So much for subtlety, it was time to run. Mickie took off into the new facility as the glass crashed and shattered somewhere down the stairs. The halls here twisted and wrapped, soon blurring into a confusing mass of white accented by grey. There were loud grumblings from behind as he ran, deep as if from a large creature. Mickie did not want to learn what had made those noises. He was brought to a skidding halt by the loud clank and shift of movement up ahead. Thankful for the carpet softening his footfalls Micke swung down another hall and pushed open one of the innumerable cookie cutter office doors that filled this strange space. He pressed himself against the wood, panting airconditioned air that was slightly musty and a touch too cold for comfort. The room he had stumbled into was pulled straight from an old government building. Cheap dividers sectioned off rows of cubicles in which little creatures of pale skin and long limbs tapped away at bulky old computers. In the corner beside Mickie was a single pot of dirt with the remains of a long dead plant poking from dry soil.

Having barged into the room unannounced Mickie was unsurprised to find some of the strange creatures had stopped working and turned to peer at him with large, rounded eyes. They all had stubby legs that dangled comically from the office chairs on which they sat. One waved to him with a two fingered hand before returning to work.

‘Uh, hello?’

Surprised at the relatively calm reaction Mickie simply stared at the critters as they continued tapping away on their keyboards. A clanking from outside cut his wide-eyed observation short and dragged his focus back to the distantly blaring alarm. Something large was just beyond the door, patrolling the hall with heavy footsteps. Terrified of being seen by a new mystery monster Mickie moved into the office and crawled under the desk of an unoccupied cubicle. If there was an oppice in Hell was there observation equipment too, if they could track him on a camera Mickie was done for.

The office door creaked slowly open and the workers immediately stilled their incessant tapping. From his vantage Mickie could see the strange creatures frozen in place, wide eyes locked on the door as they sat rigid. Whatever was out there entered the space, silence indicating a lack of movement as it observed the barren room. Mickie held his breath, hoping it would not conduct a thorough search. Moments passed of silence before the creature left with creaking thuds. Unsure if the coast was clear Mickie remained under the desk for a time, wondering when Miz-Mag would reappear to guide him out of this mess. For all the demon’s endless chatter and confusing answers Mickie thought it at least was not lying about the deal. Miz-Mag wanted out of hell, and apparently Mickie was its best chance of making that happen.

Taking the strange worker’s return to work as a positive sign Mickie emerged from under the desk. He cast about the space for something that might aid in his escape, maybe offices in Hell had emergency fire maps? The walls appeared barren, but something nestle in the far side of the room did catch his interest. Mickie walked as quietly as possible along a row of cubicles, coming out the far end to find a water cooler set against the wall. A classic display of white plastic with a blue jug sitting at home on the top. Two of the grey creatures clasped foam cups, sipping side by side without making a peep below a poster of a cat tied to a tree branch. Text beneath the image read YOU’RE GOING TO HANG IN THERE.

Attempting to figure out the amount of time that had past since he arrived in Hell was difficult for Mickie. It had at least been a couple of hours, though with what he had been through so far it felt more like a day. Either way it was long enough that he felt parched enough to risk taking a cup, topping it with water, and trying a sip. The liquid was cool, though heavily filtered and with a chlorine tang. Mickie downed a cup and topped of another, noting the two workers staring up at him with their strangely wide eyes. He knew he should find them disconcerting, but the oddly innocent expression and stubby legs gave an impression of harmlessness.

‘You guys remind me of an alien I saw in a movie once. I hope you’re nice like it was.’

Neither of the creatures responded, though one did tilt its head curiously at him.

‘Not big talkers huh? I can respect that, this other demon I know won’t shut the Hell up.’

‘And who might that be?’

The squeaky voice cut through the silent room, startling Mickie. He turned to find Miz-Mag standing atop the cooler, golden eyes glaring daggers.

‘Oh, you’re back.’

‘Sure am kid. And it appears that you decided making your own way through the ninth circle of Hell was superior to the directions I provided.’

Mickie shrugged.

‘You spat out some half-cooked directions then disappeared, can’t really fault me for getting turned around.’

‘Maybe, but to have dragged us into Administration? Surely you could have bunkered down until I got back.’

The little demon leapt from the water jug to one of the worker’s heads, plonking down. The creature appeared to take no notice, sipping from its cup with eyes focussed upon Mickie.

‘Boring old skin bags these. I tell you those guards though, you don’t want to mess with them.’

‘Yeah, one came in here looking for me.’

Miz-Mag looked to him sharply.

‘They’re onto you?’

‘I wouldn’t go that far, the thing came in then wandered off right away.’

‘So, none of them caught sight of you?’

‘Nope.’

Miz-Mag breathed out a sigh of relief, resting its head in a tiny hand.

‘Very well. You sure know how to kick the beast in the balls kid.’

Mickie downed his second cup of water. He was about to refill it when one of the workers stuck an arm out, proffering a full cup. He frowned at the creature but took the cup hesitantly.

‘Thanks bud.’

The creature nodded slowly and moved away from the cooler. Its companion followed behind, forcing Miz-Mag to abandon his perch for Mickie’s shoulder. Mickie followed them with his eyes.

‘What are those guys? I didn’t expect something so…’

He searched for the word.

‘Placid?’

‘Yeah the workers are harmless enough, boring as stone though. They’ve been tapping away in Admin for as long as I’ve been around.’

Mickie looked over the rows of grey creatures. That he would encounter such peaceful beings at the bottom of hell, where violence seemed to be the only real language spoken. He did not feel pity for them, they did not seem all that dissatisfied with their lot as far as he could tell. There was something though, an empty feeling, loss maybe? It was something he couldn’t really put a finger on.

‘How come it didn’t notice you sitting on its head?’

The demon grinned.

‘Well kid, I’m awfully sneaky.’

Mickie sighed at the non-answer and moved back through the cubicles, heading for the door. There was a slight pressure on his left shoulder as Miz-Mag fell into a seated position.

‘It’s good to see your arm in working order again kid. When will we be causing some chaos?’

The demon took on a playful tone.

‘I may seem uptight but believe me, I can be swayed.’

Mickie flexed his branded hand, it did feel fully healed. From badly broken to mended in what? An hour maybe. What was strangest about it was that it did not seem so out of place. He had blown a hole in the warden and outrun a giant Cerberus, what was an arm repairing itself besides that.

‘We need to find a way out of here, backtrack down the stairs maybe?’

‘Ah, I would recommend against it. They may not have been actively watching the staircase before, but there will certainly be a guard there now.’

Mickie frowned, drumming his fingers against his leg.

‘Do you have a way out then?’

‘Perhaps. The palace has many secret paths and I know quite a few of them.’

Miz-Mag leant against his head and sighed.

‘Sadly, however I have no clue where you have dragged us. Admin looks so pretty samey.’

‘Okay, so we need to get an idea of where we are, then you point and I’ll follow out of here.’

‘I know it sounds simple, but believe me, those guards are about as fun as attempting to pet the Cerberus.’

None of the strange workers glanced their way as the pair meandered towards the door. Mickie took a moment to glance at one of the old, boxy computer screens, curious as to what these creatures got up to. The screen was a mess of gibberish code text and numbers, shifting and mixing as the worker tapped away. Shaking his head, Mickie continued towards the door, voicing a thought that had been forming since he arrived.

‘You seem to know a heap about this castle.’

‘To an extent.’

Miz-Mag sounded hesitant.

‘At least about the areas near the bottom anyway.’

‘So you know the castle and you can travel about apparently undetected, if that worker you sat on was any indication. So why then, have you not simply left before now.’

The silence stretch long enough that Mickie turned to peer at the demon atop his shoulder. Miz-Mag was sitting in studious silence, a strange, shifty expression on its face.

‘W-well you see, it’s the guy up top, guards the exit. He’s is a piece of work.’

Mickie had been decent enough at reading people before he died. For all that the demon was a tricky little devil it had never displayed that level of hesitancy before. Strange, for a creature to which words were weapons to stumble at such a simple question.

‘Never? One guard? And you couldn’t cause a distraction to, let’s say, sneak by?’

Miz-Mag spluttered.

‘What would you know kid? The chap up top is a right menace, you haven’t even seen him yet.’

Mickie made a contemplative noise. It was clear that the demon was holding something back, though most likely not joking about the danger this guard posed. Miz-Mag had been willing to tie itself to Mickie for a chance to get out. Something not without consequence for the creature if the strange disappearances were any indication. The pair reached the door before Mickie could press any further, he would push for answers when their situation was less precarious.

‘Alright kid, the big boys outside are slow and noisy as all Hell so you will hear them coming. You don’t want to let them see you however, so be slow and silent outside of this room, get me?’

Mickie nodded, took a steadying breath, and opened the door. The hall was silent but for the hum of air conditioning. The plain walls lined with doors appeared untouched by the prowling guards’ passage, though it had probably checked multiple rooms. With silent steps Mickie moved from the office space and clicked the door shut behind him. A small pair of hands clapped sharply on his shoulder.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

‘Alright kid, time for some mischief. Sculk about and let’s figure out where we are.’

Mickie jumped at the noise, throwing the demon a terrified glance.

‘What, I told you before, I’m sneaky. Those idiots can’t hear me. But uh, you probably shouldn’t make too much noise.’

Hardly daring to breath Mickie sat still and listened for the approach of a guard. As long moments passed without a sound, he concluded the demon’s claim was either true or they had gotten lucky. That was more than just sneaky, his red companion must have some kind of ability that assisted. Mickie did not dare talk back himself, terrified of drawing the guards for a check more thorough that the last. Taking a few tentative steps, he moved down the hall and towards the open intersection. Glancing out revealed no monstrous figures so Mickie did not hesitate to slink onwards, heading into a new region of the winding maze. Time spent wandering passed uneventfully before a hiss in Mickie’s ear brought him up short.

‘We got one kid; couple turns off and moving our way. Take that turn up ahead and pick a room, wait for it to pass.’

It took an effort of will for Mickie to stop from asking why Miz-Mag was whispering if the guards could not hear him. Instead, the distant thudding of footsteps drew him into the indicated hall and through a door partway down its length. The room found on the other side was a poor choice for a hiding spot, it appeared to be a cleaner’s closet, small and narrow with shelves full of chemicals. It was also barren of any further places to hide, a point that thudded home with each step of the guard. With no time to step back out and find another room Mickie hunch in a corner and called his gun forth.

‘Alright kid, you could have picked a better spot. Only shoot if you are out of options, its going to get crazy when you pull that trigger.’

The guard drew closer, steps coming down their hall and towards their room. The thuds came up alongside their room, before continuing without even a pause. Mickie released a breath as the sounds of the guard’s passaged faded into the distance. They were safe for now. He did not move until all sounds had vanished before releasing a tense chuckle. Without the monster right outside Mickie took a moment to examine the cleaning closet. He was hunched by a large sink, built to accommodate some serious cleanup it was a stainless steel monster perched atop the floor like a bathtub. It was still a sink and Mickie would not fit within it, however he could stand in it and wash away the grime and gore coating his body. He stoppered the base and turned both taps so water poured into the tub. The noise was slightly concerning but Mickie found himself unable to care as the possibility of being clean dangled before him.

‘Kid, while I can definitively state I am an advocate of personal hygiene, I must ask if this is truly the time to be taking a bath. And one not entirely subtle either.’

Mickie paid the demon no mind, instead turning to the shelves of chemicals and attempting to locate some form of soap. Failing to find any bodywash he settled on the closest approximation available, a basic detergent for surfaces labelled Bacteria Boiler. With such a dubious title Mickie only poured a small dose into the sink. He moved to pull the filthy rags from his body but paused, glancing surreptitiously at Miz-Mag, still perched on his shoulder. The demon rolled its tiny eyes and leapt to a nearby shelf. With no further obstacles Mickie was free to strip off, snag a neatly folded wash rag and step into the makeshift tub. What followed were a few blessed minutes of kneeling in warm water, wiping skin clear for what felt like the first time in days.

‘You know, its strange. I wouldn’t expect running water and a janitorial closet in the deepest realm of hell.’

Miz-Mag, who had been wandering the chemicals, peeked out from behind a bottle of Bone Bleach.

‘How else would they keep the place clean? One thing to remember about Hell my friend, lots of blood.’

The demon froze suddenly.

‘Kid, get ready to move, guard coming this way.’

Mickie froze briefly mid scrub before cursing and slipping from the sink to the tiled floor. He took another rag and was frantically drying on when the thumping footsteps came into earshot. Silent as a ghost he dressed and summoned his gun. The weapon had been sitting on a nearby shelf and Mickie had instinctively called on it instead of walking to pick it up. The realisation he had done the action by instinct wrapped up with surprise as the gun vanished from the shelf and appeared in his hand. He knew the weapon was unique, the odd design, light weight and summoning power indicated something magical in nature. It was the strange, instinctual understanding of the item that caused him the most concern, however. The act of summoning and firing the weapon was far too natural, as if he had been doing it for years, while the actual properties of the gun were still new to him. It was like he had discover his body had a new limb, shifting and feeling it was easy enough, finer control would take practice. Mickie was snapped from his thoughts by a hiss from Miz-Mag.

‘Hey, focus. Get ready to blast that thing if it stumbles in here.’

The steps of the guard echo strangely as it approached, a double thudding that set his teeth on edge. As the sound neared the echo ceased and the guard passed the door once more without looking inside. Mickie did not dare make a sound as Miz-Mag let out a snicker.

‘Clueless bags of bolts, that’s what this lot are.’

They once again waited for the guard to disappear before approaching the door to continue the search.

‘How are you going with locating an escape?’

‘Got a few ideas, if only we could glimpse some sort of landmark, not that there are many in this place.’

Mickie turned the handle and stepped outside. He froze in place. There was a shadow along the carpeted floor, broad and long. It stopped just to the right of his foot, extending back to a figure slowly turning towards them. He realised they had not heard an echo as the guard approached. It had been two guards, walking in near harmony to create the effect. And one of those guards had taken up a sentry position at the mouth of the hall. A hulking monster of shining steel with shrunken white skin coming in small glimpses as it moved. Mickie simply stared as a head fused with dark metal that join in unholy matrimony focused its eyes upon him. Eyes that were large, almost comically so. Eyes that were familiar, seen so recently.

‘The workers?’

Mickies whisper was met with silence from the metal monster. It took a step towards him, thick legs of steel distinct from the stubby counterpart he had noticed in the office. An arm raised towards him, tipped with two long metal claws, scalpel sharp. Since arriving in Hell Mickie had felt a wide array of negative emotions; confusion, helplessness and existential dread to name a few. As he stared at the metal monster before him another feeling came forth, new to his time in this nightmare but all so familiar in the time before. A feeling that drove self-destruction, one that pushed him toward spite. The very feeling that led to his demise on the floor of a windowless cold room. Mickie glanced at the gun in his hand, short ranged, he’d have to get close. The guard raised a huge foot for another step and Mickie moved in as it lumbered forward. A clawed hand stabbed at him, deceptively fast for the creature’s size. Mickie lent and turned from the blow, unwilling to stop his charge for a clean dodge and suffering two lines of fire along his ribs as a result. He hit the body of the beast, a fly against a wall, registering its horribly wide robotic jaws descending upon his head. A barrel of steel met them first. Mickie fired with a red sulfuric flash and the guard’s head became shiny shrapnel zipping through red mist. A steel shard cut his ear, taking some flesh as it flew past. There was stillness in the aftermath of the blast. Unlike the insectoid warden the guard did not collapse upon death. Broad legs held the heavy body upright and its arms locked up while attempting to encircle Mickie. The flesh remnants of the worker sagged as blood pulsed from a headless neck. Mickie stepped away to avoid the spray, his gun hissed and thudding to the leopard’s head. The air smelt of blood, metal, and sulphur. Hell indeed.

‘By the blood kid! I didn’t know you had that in you, thought you were more about the running and gunning if I’m honest.’

Miz-Mag meandered to the huge corpse and gave a metal foot an experimental kick. The small demon hissed at the resulting pain to its own miniature red stomper.

‘Damn metal monkeys.’

The flare in Mickie’s chest sputtered and died with the cooling corpse. He felt a rising sickness at the sight and smell of the scene and turned swiftly back to the storeroom.

‘Was that one of the workers?’

His demon companion glanced up, shaking its head as if to clear it.

‘Doesn’t matter. Kid, what I told you about shooting one of those suckers was no joke. We got to go. Now.’

Mickie did not need any reminding, already able to hear the echoing thuds of approaching guards. He turned from the headless corpse to run but Miz-Mag stopped him with a tug to the ear.

‘Gotta get by the dead one, there’s a guard coming in from the other side.’

It made sense that the second guard which had continued down the hall would be the first to return. The bulky remains of the dead machine-worker hybrid took up most of the hall but Mickie managed to slide over a leg and past the torso with some effort. He took off down the hall.

‘You guide and I’ll run.’

‘Righto kiddo, take a right here.’

The halls flashed by in a blur as the pair raced along carpeted corridors. Miz-Mag’s keen senses kept them ahead of the guards but eventually Mickie could hear the occasional thud of feet, growing more frequent as the darted around corners. He could tell they were being cornered as the window od quiet between pursuing guards narrowed and his demon guide’s directions grew more flustered and panicked.

‘Are we getting near an exit?’

If they did not have an immediate way out, then the pair would be forced to hide and hope the guards missed them in their search.

‘I-I maybe kid, these damn halls. We’ve been circling something for a while now.’

‘Something? A way out?’

Mickie pushed off a wall and ran down a passage as multiple footsteps grew closer.

‘I thought so. The halls in this area seemed to close in on this block of rooms. Like a spiral. It had to mean something.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing, there’s this large block of rooms in the middle we’ve wrapped right around.’

‘You mean we’ve been moving in a big circle and letting the guards get closer?’

‘Yes! It was meant to be a way out!’

Mickie swore loudly as a metal frame lumbered into sight at the far end of the hall. He could maybe take down a couple of the creatures, but if they corned him, it would be over. The block of rooms to his left seemed like the best choice here. Before the guard could turn and spot him Mickie grasped the nearest doorhandle and burst through to the room beyond.

The space was another generic office space, including the gentle wide eyed workers tapping away at old computers. Mickie hurriedly shut the door behind him, hoping the guard had not glimpsed him entering. The far wall of the room seemed odd, set at a strange angle compared to the rest of the space. Passing the cubicles Mickie made his way over to stand before the odd barrier.

‘You know, all the walls until now have been on right angles. Squares and rectangles, rooms and halls. I wonder why this is different.’

The demon on his shoulder also seemed interested.

‘I knew there was something to the spiralling halls. Maybe there’s an entrance in another of the rooms!’

If that were the case it did not matter. Mickie could hear the approach of the guard as it moved down the hall. They were out of time. He glanced from the wall to the gun in his hand. Looking to the gentle workers Mickie felt a pang of regret for what he was about to bring upon them. The strange beings did not deserve this place, or whatever horrifying process resulted in the guards. Mickie took a step back from the wall, raised his gun, and fired straight into the plaster. The leopard head let off dark smoke and a hole was punched straight through the white paint.

Having expected the noise Mickie stood resolute as his weapon hissed steam and rotated barrels. The workers however were rustling and jostling in distress, standing from their desks to move away from him. They did not speak or cry out, the only sound of their fear came from the shifting of paper, the squeak of chairs and the sudden absence of typing. Mickie did not have to time to feel sorry for them, the guard was getting closer to the door, and he could hear more on the way now. He aimed the lions head to the left of the hole and fired again with a golden flash, noticing the weapon appeared to shoot differently for each head, though lacked the time to experiment. The varied lights and smells of each shot were good indicators at the very least. Further proof presented itself in the holes punched through the wall. The lion’s head shot had blasted a hole almost double the diameter of the leopard’s, indicating a wider spread. The result was a gap barely large enough to squeeze through, and Mickie wasted no time diving in headfirst. Behind him the door to the office burst open and a lumbering guard entered.

Mickie was shoulders deep in the wall, having dropped his gun inside to free his arms for leverage. The rough edges of the hole scrapped against his skin as Mickie dragged himself through and out the other side. It was dark in the room beyond, the space lit only by the low glow of modern screens in a pleasant, open plan office layout. The fluorescent white light of the last room glowed through the hole Mickie had made, shining on the faces of three demons. Unlike the placid workers these creatures appeared far more traditionally impish, with red skin, bald, wrinkly heads and hooved legs coated in coarse fur. Mickie vaguely recognized them as the same species of demon that had opened the prison door to check on the Cerberus. The creatures were speechless, staring at Mickie like he was an angel from on high. With the guard moving in on his point of egress Mickie wasted no time in scooping up his weapons and vacating the space by the wall. Miz-Mag was dancing in excitement atop his shoulder, staring down the dumbstruck imps with gleeful delight.

‘Ohoho, my dear boy, what have we come across. I was hoping for an exit but this, this is even better.’

One of the imps raised a clawed hand to point at Mickie.

‘I-it’s a human?’

Miz-Mag laughed happily.

‘A control room! Oh, what luck. Let’s set all the guards lose! That will throw them off.’

The occupants of the room appeared not to notice Miz-Mag or his delighted ranting. They were laser focussed on Mickie, surprise giving way to outrage muttering.

‘What’s it doing this far down in the palace?’

‘How could a human avoid our sensors?’

‘Quiet, the both of you! We need to get it contained.’

Mickie had started moving toward the short trio when the apparent leader got them under control. His own miniature demon could smell blood in the water.

‘Drop them kid! I can handle the systems! Drop them now!’

For all that he had blasted his way this far however Mickie could not bring himself to shoot these walking, talking creatures. Intimidation would have to work.

‘If you can handle the systems get to it, I’ll deal with these three.’

The imps appeared rather startled as he spoke.

‘What’s it speaking to?’

‘Careful, it could be rabid.’

The leader once more shushed the chatty pair and turned to him as the sounds of crashing came from the hole in the wall. It appeared the guard was attempting to destroy the wall and enter. Miz-Mag leapt atop a desk and scuttled to a large tablet that appeared to serve as both a keyboard and screen. The demon started something akin to a tap dance atop the item as it worked the controls.

‘You three. You are the controllers here?’

‘We are human, and you are not where you belong.’

It was the leading demon that answered, standing before the cowering pair like a gallant knight.

‘And where do I belong?’

Mickie hefted the gun in his hand, making a show of looking it over to draw the imp’s attention. Surprisingly, the creatures seemed to pay the weapon little heed.

‘You should be with the other slaves. How did you get down here?’

Mickie frowned at that and took a step towards the leading imp. To the creature’s credit it did not cower under his acidic stare.

‘Slaves?’

He breathed the question, almost too quiet to hear with the guard’s entry attempts.

‘Now human, you will submit to the guard and the chief administrator will decide what to do with you.’

Mickie felt something sparking at that. These creatures made monsters from innocent beings like the workers, and from all appearances controlled them like puppets. They apparently kept humans as slaves either within the castle or somewhere above it. It dawned on him then why the leading imp was so willing to stand-up to him. He did not register as a threat. Humans were nothing to creatures such as this. Mickie looked over clawed hands and a torso of corded muscle. Certainly, this creature could be deadly, he would not want to get into a close quarters fight with one. Luckily, he did not need to. Mickie aimed the wolf’s head beside the leader’s foot and took a warning shot. When shooting the wall Mickie had gotten a good understanding of the spread from the leopard and lions head barrels. Based on this he had aimed the gun far enough to the side to avoid hitting the imp, though still close enough to give a scare. The wolf’s head however appeared to have a far greater spread than he had expected. The red and orange flash was accompanied by a wail of pain as the leader of trio collapse, the skin on its leg torn and smoking. Quivering behind their collapsed leader the remaining imps stared up at Mickie in shocked horror.

‘I-i-it shot the chief!’

There was a cacophonous crash from the wall as the guard finally tore through, creating a hole the size of a large door. The light from the office flooded the room as the metal monster began stomping towards Mickie and the imps.

‘Ahaha, you fool, the guard is here now. Kill the human guard. Kill it!’

One of the trio before him began screeching hysterically over the wails of their leader. As Mickie turned to the approaching giant his scattered thoughts landed on the fact that demons were supposed to evil and tough. At least from what he had heard. The ones before him acted more like spoilt children, unaccustomed to being looked down upon and told no. Mickie focussed his gun upon the approaching metal guard just a Miz-Mag let lose an uproarious laugh from atop the tablet screen.

‘Oh my, here we go, time to set the dogs lose.’

The guard suddenly froze in its approach. It looked like his demon companion had managed to let them slip whatever control held their reigns. Who knew how the guards would react now. The workers that made them were docile, but to be turned into such a monster, Mickie could only imagine.

‘What are you doing stupid creature! Kill the human, before he shoots us too!’

The guard turned its head and peered at Mickie, wide eyes that had just moments before appeared dead now glimmered with comprehension. The giant took a step forward, no longer looking at him, but to the trio of imps still screeching and wailing. Mickie moved aside and was passed without so much as a side glance.

‘Guard what are you playing at? The human is just there you metal buffoon. Kill it! KILL- Ugh.’

The tirade of the imp was cut short as the guard stepped forward and swung a hand casually at its chest. Steel fingers punched through red skin and the imp died with an expression of surprised shock on its face. What followed was like observing a moving meat grinder in action as the huge guard disassembled the three controllers. The demons failed to even provide a token resistance, so shocked by the actions of their once servile guardian. Miz-Mag cackled with glee the entire time, running along the desk, and leaping to Mickie’s shoulder.

‘Oh kid, absolutely marvellous. If this is how they all react when let lose it’s going to be chaos.’

The metal monster finished with its grisly work and finally turned to Mickie, massive arms coated in dripping red. The sight made thee demon on his shoulder suddenly nervous.

‘Uh, we might have to drop this one. You know, just to be safe.’

Mickie did not point his gun at the creature however, having recognised, for the first time, a familiar expression upon the face of its kind. The eyes spoke of pain, of a loss so terrible, that it consumed everything the creature was. It was grief compounded with a nihilistic outlook to form crippling despair. The guard stepped closer, then fell to its knees before him with a thunderous boom. Then, in a display of yet another first for its kind, voiced a sound. A keening, metallic groan emerged from the steel mouth, high and containing such condensed grief that Mickie was almost staggered by it. It was the fleshy steel amalgam pouring its pain out, unable to do anything else now it could think, could remember. Mickie could do nothing but stare, a hollow pit in his chest. Even Miz-Mag was more subdued, the small demon made no noise, simply observing from atop his shoulder. There was a bump against his leg and Mickie glanced down to find one of the workers passing him, moving to the guard. He turned and found a small procession of them entering through the hole in the wall and making their way over. The small, wide-eyed creatures gathered about their moaning metal kin and began to produce their own sound. It was not a grieved moan, as that of the guard, but something else entirely. Theirs was more a song, a rising, dipping and flowing melody that interplayed with the steady wail of the guard. The result was something sad, uplifting and wholly beautiful.

Eventually the collective voices died out and the guard looked amongst its fleshy brethren, the despair in its eyes not gone, but lessened by its kin. The surrounding workers began to tug and pull at the arms of the giant, having it rise gently to its feet. They led the creature back out through the hole in the wall without looking back to the human with the demon atop his shoulder. Mickie thought they had all left when a gentle nudge to his waist turned him towards a small white creature. This one’s wide eyes were forest green, and it held out a two fingered hand to Mickie as if wanting him to take it. He did, gently clasping the small appendage in his. While looking him in the eyes, the creature began to hum melodiously. With his hand in its grasp, Mickie not only heard it, but also felt it. A pleasant vibration that seemed to hold a meaning beyond his grasp, one that interplayed with the harmonious vocals. The humming ended before he could obtain any form of understanding and the final office worker left through the hole. Mickie stood in silence, the strange song and feel were something he would almost grasp, something seen from the corner of his eyes that was gone when observed directly.

‘Well kid, that was uh, that was something. We better get back to it though.’

His musings were cut short by Miz-Mag, the demon regaining its usually chipper demeanour now the workers had left. Taking in the room properly for the first time since entering Mickie noted two actual doors on opposite sides. The space itself was an octagon of straight walls, which explained the odd angle produced in the adjacent room. One door was the usual handled office door common among the surrounding halls, the other was a glass sliding door akin to the one Mickie first came across when entering Administration. Both doors had card readers to control access. With a grim kind of nausea, he moved over to the minced remain of the imp trio and began poking about for something he could use. Bile rose alongside frustration until Miz-Mag called from across the room.

‘Hey kid, shouldn’t you be searching the tables before you pick at the corpses.’

Mickie turned to find the little demon holding up a card larger than its head. Happy to be free of the corpses he moved to his small companion and took the pass, sliding the attached lanyard over his neck. The song of the workers still tickled in the back of his mind, the sadness and shared grief of it made he feel acutely alone. Mickie had always been lonely, alone when he died and alone now in Hell but for a demon on his shoulder. Looking to the remains of the imps he felt the niggling of a familiar flame in his gut, warming his chest and filling the hollow within.

‘So, are all the guards free now?’

‘All of them? Not a chance kid, it would just be the ones under this hub’s control.’

Mickie glared at the screen Miz-Mag had been controlling, thinking.

‘Are they all separate? Or is there a main controller somewhere?’

The demon gave him an odd look.

‘One thing about Hell kid, everyone loves to micromanage. I’d bet there is a main administrator with overall control.’

‘And where is this main administrator?’

‘How would I know? I look like a GPS to you?’

Mickie hummed thoughtfully, walking over to the control screen and peering at the backlit display. It was a jumble of numbers and text he could make no sense of, like the screens of the workers only more modern in design.

‘Would this thing have a map on it?’

Miz-Mag gave him a wide-eyed look, turned to the screen, back to Mickie, then hopped down and started its odd tapping dance across the controls. The screen flickered and shifted rapidly, rolling through menus and displays he could not comprehend. Eventually it settled on a something he recognised, a web of lines, interlinked at right angles and connecting to various square rooms. Moving away from the controls, Miz-Mag stepped atop the map and tapped an octagonal room with his foot.

‘This is us here.’

The demon reached over and pressed a few buttons. Red lines blinked into existence, overlaying the base map.

‘This is the controller’s personal pathways through Admin, we can get in through the glass doors over there.’

‘And the central controller?’

Miz-Mag grinned devilishly and patted a red series of rooms at the edge of the facility.

----------------------------------------

The pair moved through a narrow passage, winding their way towards the central control room. Mickie held his at the ready, stepping lightly to avoid making any noise. Unlike the main halls of Administration these paths were built for the upper management, the guards below would struggle to even fit inside the cramped passages. The lighting here was subdued, and the walls painted in darker hues to the whitewash offices. Miz-Mag whispered directions as Mickie jogged, ensuring they kept a distance from other control rooms. They were closing in on their target and the route so far had been clear of any living presence, Mickie had not even heard distant chatter or the tapping of footsteps.

Eventually Miz-Mag called a corner and from the visible excitement of the demon Mickie knew they were very close. Rounding the bend, a set of thick black doors lay at the end of an extended hall. There were no guards or visible protections, just the doors with a card reader to control access. Mickie made his way forward, coming up short as a high-pitched screech emerged from within the room.

‘What do you mean radio silent? Go check on them then! We need to reestablish control!’

There was a moment of silence.

‘No, I can’t do it from here! Those idiots put a localised lockdown in effect, no external transmission allowed.’

Miz-Mag lets lose a gleeful chuckle while the room’s occupant continued its tirade.

‘I don’t care what they’re saying about an infiltrator, our sensors are getting nothing! So there is nothing! Now get into that control room and reestablish order!’

The voice rose to a squeaky roar before falling silent. It looked like Miz-Mag got the chaos it had wanted when setting the guards lose, who knew what trouble the metal behemoths were causing. Mickie was willing to bet his key card would not work on this door, this one was most likely the keyed exclusively to the boss inside. He hefted his gun, it was time to pick the lock then. Without further delay Mickie aimed the puma headed barrel of his weapon at the double door’s latch. Dark smoke rose with a roar as the handles vanished from the door and a crash came from within the room. A cry of alarm was followed by outraged squealing from within. Mickie kicked at the doors, realised they swung outwards, and gingerly pulled them open around the smoking hole he had made. The interior of the central control room was as dark in design as the surrounding halls, glowing with the lights of numerous screens. In the centre of an enormous ring desk sat an extraordinarily round figure. It was perhaps two and a half feet tall and had scrawny legs and arms protruding from a circular, scaled body. Atop the boulder of flesh sat the head of a crocodile, snout gaping in shock at Mickie as he entered.

‘W-w-w-what is the meaning of this.’

The same voice that they had heard from the hall came from the creature. Mickie did not answer, stepping forward as his gun hissed and thunked over to the lion’s head.

‘Y-y-you’re the trespasser? A human? But our sensors, they got nothing.’

Mickie levelled his gun at the bowling ball.

‘Quickly! help me!’

There was a reflective shine of metal from within a shadowed recess. Mickie paused warily, finger on the trigger as a sleek machine emerged into the light. It was a sleek beast with four legs and two razor sharp claws folded against its chest. A monstrous metal mantis, taller than he was.

‘Kill it, kill the human!’

Mickie turned his gun on the mantis beast as it glided forward, coming up beside the desk and stopping. The creature became motionless but for its steel head, which Mickie realised had strange inorganic, multifaceted camera eyes. Unlike the guard down below this creature was pure robot, there were no organic components within its gleaming chassis. The camera swivelled and scanned the room, searching for its master’s assailant. Miz-Mag burst into uproarious laughter.

‘Gyahaha, I’ll tell you what kid, we have had some serious luck hear. Looks like you acquired some of my talents for avoiding detection.’

It appeared that the metal machine could not see him. Mickie took a step towards it and the head locked onto the slight sound of his movement.

‘Yes, its right there! KILL IT NOW!’

The crocodile ball was growing hysterical at Mickies continued existence, flailing its limbs about wildly. Having realised the mantis could somehow hear him, if not see him, Mickie waved a hand to the demon on his shoulder and pointed to the circle of desks. Miz-Mag got the message and hopped off, moving to work on a flat control screen. The room’s occupant failed to notice the shifting display as it wailed in outrage. Mickie waited for the mantis’ attention to shift before moving again. Once more the creature locked onto his location, this time moving about the desk towards him, claws sweeping the air. It appeared to have realised it could not see him and had started a physical sweep. It came closer as he stood with held breath, careful not to make any sudden moves that might alert the machine. The claws were dangerously close to his body when Mickie acted. He raised the lion’s head and fired from mere feet away into the monsters head before diving low. With a golden flash the sensory array atop the machine exploded, alongside a chunk of the torso.

The brief motion of moving and firing had somehow alerted the creature however and as Mickie leapt aside a claw brushed his leg. There was no pain initially, but as Mickie rolled from the headless mantis a fire lit along his calf. Touching the leg his hand came away red with blood, a nauseating inspection revealed the creature had skinned a large portion of the appendage. Beyond the neat hole in his pants there was glistening red that started to pulse with blood. Mickie groaned at the sight of it, turning away and back to the collapsing machine lest he be sick. The mantis was done for with the one shot, its claw arms falling limp as its legs gave out, depositing the shiny steel insect on the floor where it lay still.

The resulting screams from the chubby reptile behind the desk were incoherent, not that Mickie could make out much anyway, dizzy as he was from the wound and the sight of his blood sluicing to the carpeted floor. Instead, he rose, the flame in his chest roaring at the sight of the stubby, fat crocodile. This was the thing that forced all the workers below to their desks, that turned the innocent creature into monstrous machines. He felt the blood pouring down his leg as he took a step towards the creature. Steam wafted across his vision as he lifted the gun, the barrel rotating with a thunk. Another step. Another. The head administrator wailed. Mickie stepped up the desk, pointed his gun. This thing would have had him killed; it would enslave those below again given the chance. He fired. A wolf barked with flame and the strange, round crocodile exploded.