With my head in the sand, I often got grit in my eyes. An acceptable consolation prize compared to the other horrors dotted about the horizon. All the puzzle pieces were there, but I couldn’t reach them, or work out how they fit together - or even knew if they belonged to the right picture. It might as well not be a jigsaw, for as little sense as it all made. From this angle, anyway. I could almost feel the echo of Future Eric facepalming so hard at the reveal - halfway comforted that I should at least make it to that point alive.

Dozens upon dozens of eyes turned to look at me as I walked towards the gathering, my hand waving in the air. “Hello!” I said, a smile behind my mask for all the good that it did. Wight followed along behind me, trying his best to look non-threatening with his held blade.

Given the murmurs and narrowed glares, I wasn’t too confident in our approach.

//Something is interfering with… signal. Green, rep..t, gree…

A brief wave of panic washed over me. The thoughts of another kidnapping - or the Watcher’s return when Rodney was vulnerable flashed through my mind. I got halfway into teleporting home before calming. Green meant he was fine. There was something off with the system instead. Orange was return, potential threat. Red meant get your ass home, shit was hitting the fan.

I turned my head to the side and cupped my mouth toward the empty expanse over my shoulder. “Green acknowledged, repeat, green acknowledged.” Just in case audio was bugged both ways, we repeated the commands. It hadn’t been as fun as trying to play poker, but going over comm rules with the Blank was a necessity for our growth.

Back on the stage, a smaller figure approached the first, and they exchanged words. From this distance, I could see that the threads that had sewn their mouths shut had been cut. Once I reached the middle of them all, amphitheater rows behind me, stage in front, the pair up top turned to me.

“Normally-we-would-not-abide-your-presence.” The smaller one spoke in a rushed form of dialogue that took my brain a second or two to catch up on my ears. He must be the translator for the taller one.

Why I had decided to tempt the sitcom situation was neither here nor there. I was allowing fate to guide the result. If I went in guns blazing I could kill half of them before they’d even a chance to react, and the Org would gain no useful opinions of my capabilities. They knew I could kill - they wanted me to be able to deal with the unknown. So here I was, inviting the waves of possibility to wash over me to see what manner of seaweed clung to my damp body.

“I see.” I gave a brief bow. “Your allowance is appreciated.”

The taller one murmured something to the other that I still couldn’t parse. I must need to find some other demonic spirit to inhabit Hotel Redd to be able to grok the new language. Or old language, as it were.

“You-are-the-one-who-set-us-free? Correct?”

Air escaped through my nostrils. I had already painted the picture blindfolded. Now it was time to see what colors I had used.

“Something like that, sure.” I had shot a demon I didn’t like - it was something of a hobby for me. Part of my job too. Overtime didn’t pay well, but the benefits were satisfying - once you wiped away the blood.

“Then-we-have-you-to-thank…” the demon paused as the taller speaker continued his spiel, more emphatically now. “As-you-have-wrought-the-ruin-of-Hell-into-existence.”

So far, I was partially on-board. Killing all demons and bringing about the ruin of Hell sounded like there was some overlap. As long as I wasn’t caught up in between, we could have some common ground to bond over. Perhaps a second gang - I was certainly becoming a danger, as much as I was also getting ahead of myself.

“Sounds peachy,” I shrugged, half wondering if I was about to be awarded a medal. “What does that entail, exactly?” The devil was in the details, as always.

[Nothing good ever came from over ambitious intention.]

I raised an eyebrow from behind my mask to look at my patron. He seemed impassive enough, but his arms were now crossed - a sure sign that something had gotten his feathers riled up. Perhaps not the time to remind him nothing in my profession or the Hells really came close to the word ‘good.’ Unless it was goodbye or good luck, asshole.

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“We-will-corrupt-the-essence-around-us-and-bring-about-the-true-demonic-gods-to-rule-over-the-weak.”

“I wish they’d talk in smaller sentences,” I murmured to my patron. “Care to translate from what they said into something I’d understand?”

[Imagine Rat God, but here in the Lowers. But thirteen of him, and he just wanted to eat up the very nature of Hell itself.]

“Ah.” That actually went against my whole ‘balance’ thing. Destroying Hell sounded good on paper, but if the planes were meant to equal, then it’d probably cause more problems than it’d solve. Plus, the big monsters would probably get full of Hell and might come to munch on other realms of existence. Bigger problems I’d rather cut off before they could start.

“Not sure I agree with that - any way I could change your minds?” I grinned, despite my mask still hiding my face. I should probably lower it when trying to be diplomatic - but I preferred the extra barrier between my important parts and the corrupting influences around us. Plus, I looked cooler.

The two demons conversed, more animatedly this time. My words of polite indignation ruffling their lack of feathers. I had already had enough of the discourse, and with no medal ceremony in sight, I wanted to fast track the bloodbath so that I could get into a nice warm water bath back at home. It had been a day.

“Our-intentions-are-immutable.” The smaller one rubbed at his head, perhaps a little put out at having to be the talking point for someone more dogmatic than they. “If-you-wish-to-detract-from-the-inevitable-you-may-join-the-queue.” He raised his arm up to point toward the gallows, more for the theatrics to play to the crowd than anything.

I turned my head to Wight in mimicry of their need to translate. “I really wish we had some new skills for dealing with all these demons.”

[You are the one who wished to become a peeping tom.]

“A detective.” I sighed. “That - that’s something different.” His beaked face didn’t budge, so I was unsure as to how much of a rise he was trying to get out of me. “Rods said seventy eight or so demons, right?”

[He also said not to call him the Rods.]

“That was ages ago,” I whispered. “I think he’s come around to it.”

//I haven’t. Systems st… ..tially workin… Green.

I worked my jaw. Nothing ever seemed to go my way unless it involved me putting life and limb on the line. An unfair statement - and a whine partly fueled by the fact that I didn’t kill the pigman warlord, and instead just ran. Running was sensible and safe, but there were no heroics in it. Heroics got you killed, but-

[I think they are awaiting a response, Eric.]

Shuffling those thoughts to the back of my mind, I stood back up straight to acknowledge the patiently tense demons glaring at me. There were five on the stage, excluding the corpses, and they didn’t look armed. That still left far too many right behind me - with a few dozen ranged weapons at the ready should I decide to point my revolver in a little more threatening manner.

That said, I couldn’t just leave and let Hell be taken over. “Sounds good, then. I’m convinced - is it just you who are now free? Got any plans for bringing about the first… god thing?”

Charisma wasn’t something I particularly held in my wheelhouse. Any tact or wit had sunk away in the flowing mire right beside my tangible form. I could parlay, and had reasonably believable relationships with a handful of… well, oddballs, perhaps. Still, despite this, it seemed the gray demons were pretty easily persuaded by my terrible improvisation.

“We-are-currently-the-only. This-is-our-first-meeting-to-determine-whether-to-free-others-or-raise-the-first-consumer.”

That made things a little simpler. I turned to Wight with a shrug and he gave me a brief nod. No need to speak our thoughts out loud. Oh, we could also talk telepathically, but I was thinking more about how we were so in tune. My brief rambling unsettled my thoughts.

“May I say something to the crowd? Just to say thanks for the opportunity to set the ball in motion.” I gave them a brief bow. A bit of prostration to show I wasn’t intending to brag about being their savior - they were the ones in charge here.

They murmured to each other before the smaller gave me a nod. “That-is-acceptable. I-will-translate-for-the-others.”

After a brief momentary flash of awkwardness in finding which side of the stage hid the stairs, I eventually rose up before them all. It had been less concerning when the eyes were to my back - but being up on the stage felt almost surreal. My fifteen minutes of fame, in the limelight.

I gave a wave to my captive audience, their impassive glares filling me with damp confidence. Wight padded up behind me as we approached the speaking podium - the taller helper demon moving away to allow me the space.

Funny how I had almost written this scenario out in my head just a dozen minutes prior and yet now, as I stood before the ramshackle furniture, looking out at the rows of pensive demons… my mind was blank.

Stage fright.

My tongue rolled about in my mouth. What was there to say, really? I looked down at Wight, who looked half as uncomfortable as I did. Also, just annoyed at me that I had played into the cliche - oddly enough, one that I didn’t quite love.

I took a deep breath and adjusted my hat.

“Hell is not my home. During my visits to this place…” the small demon began to translate beside me. “I have seen and experienced many things that other planes couldn’t begin to scratch the surface of. If there was one thing I would have to say about the Lowers, something true…” my tongue rolled across my teeth.

A wide smile painted across my masked face, as cold energy pooled down into my arms.

“…it would be…”