In hindsight, I had already drawn the large circle around this eventuality. Even added some unnecessary arrows to accentuate the point. With the red ink still staining my hands, I waltzed across the warnings with denial as my guide. Eventually, all good things came to an end. The rolling boulder of reality loomed from the other side of the tunnel, and I could do nothing but stand and watch.

“You’re tense, Eric. Talk to me.” Pearl rested her chin on my shoulder, leaning her head against me.

Even with the Organization breathing down my neck, I still chose the bath with her first. She had sat behind me to lather my hair with shampoo, but now her arms wrapped around me, enveloping me with her soft warmth. It was always calming when she did my hair, probably from her rubbing at my temple when I had barely made it through the Sea. Creatures of habit.

“Lots of things have changed since I last saw them.” I stared out at the tiled wall. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against hers, one of her horns making it slightly uncomfortable.

“True, but you’ve always said if they wanted you dead, they’d probably do it here.”

I grunted an acknowledgement and placed my hand on her leg to my side. If they didn’t get the jump on me, then we’d probably end up killing them. That would be a whole other set of problems, a spilling bottle that you couldn’t put the stopper back in. Without Wight back, I’d be a sitting duck - a higher level Hunter like the sniper Gunther would erase me quicker than I could say pan-

She attempted to squeeze further conversation out of me, and it worked. “Partly. I’m just worried that they’ll take Wight away.”

“They could be making sure his power isn’t too much to handle.”

A fair potential reality. They might not know exactly what happened at the saloon or what Wight actually did - but they knew who or what he was. If he was running his power away from what their pact allowed, then… well, he definitely had been. I was only allowed a few scant powers, nothing that could strip reality down into atoms. As for my own power, hopefully that was something I could hide for a while longer.

I sat and stewed. The warm bath and warmer company had lost the lustre, and now I just soaked up the water, already muddied by the dirt washed from my aching form. Any resistance I still held was lost as I deflated into her embrace.

Pearl gave me a squeeze and then sat back, patting me on the shoulder. “The Organization is the one place in reality I can’t save your scrawny ass, so this is all on you, Eric.”

There was a hint of nerves in her voice, too. A little thing that reassured me she genuinely cared. Minor weaknesses that prideful demons wouldn’t usually want to feign in the long term. Even if the reason for wanting me alive was something selfish, it still worried her that she couldn’t be my knight in dark leather-clad armor.

I slunk back into the bath as she made her exit and peered over the edge at her like a besotted schoolboy. She rolled her eyes as she caught me in the act and started to dry herself with a grasped towel.

“You’d think you would have seen enough of me as of late, Eric Redd.”

Slowly, I sunk further into the lukewarm water and exhaled through my nose as I closed my eyes. “Whenever that comes to pass, you’ll know I’ve really gone crazy.”

“That’s the other thing,” she continued, her voice distorted from my contained space, “don’t let the Org throw you into the Hells too soon. Nothing wild, or you’ll crack.”

Although I felt fine, I knew that she was right. Corruption often came in waves. The first time it had broken me, I had awoken from a blackout trying to empty the revolver into my own skull. A small blessing that it only ran on demonic power. Now I was just haunted by drum and bass anytime my adrenaline spiked. I shivered at the thought of the Titan and the darkness that had overwhelmed me in its maw. Time to get out of the bath.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

I gave an exaggerated pout to see that she was dressed already, in a smart peach dress, as she handed me a towel. She made the show of eyeing me up and down first before leaning in for a kiss.

“Good luck, Eric.” Her hands brushed the sides of my face as she moved away. “Come back alive.”

Part of me knew I would. Life had not dragged me across the coals for long enough yet. There was plenty of blood and suffering I had not endured for this to be the end. Therefore, it was not only hopeful and empty words when all I could reply was, “I will.”

“I may be home late.” She smiled as she relinquished my face and started towards the door. “If you’re going to be back in action, then I need to start putting the dominoes in order.”

I nodded and made the gesture of tipping my hat. “I promise to stay out of trouble.”

Her eyes narrowed as her smile became a smirk. “Not sure I can believe that.” She paused. “Eric, I… send me an update when you can, okay?”

“Of course, you too, if anything happens.” A weird wave of awkwardness wriggled at the back of my head, setting me off guard. I watched as she left the room, and the door pulled to behind her, feeling like something went unsaid. Possibly just the corruption talking; there was no need to read into the minor social vacuum.

With a sigh, I finished drying myself up. There was something in the air where I could tell she had already teleported somewhere else. I had begun to hate having the house to myself. Even Wight could be decent company at times, but then again - this was probably one of the reasons Pearl had been so present the last few weeks. Her feelings or no, there was a benefit in keeping me grounded.

I risked a glance in the mirror, something I used to avoid. There was a bit of the old Eric in there - and by old, I meant before all the demonic shit. The healthy and well-adjusted Eric. A generous amount of Pearl’s cooking and lounging around the house had let me fill out the places that were fast becoming gaunt in my miserable solitude. My hands rubbed at the short beard across my face. It was a nice texture, and I thought I pulled the look off reasonably well. Ye-haw.

Into the bedroom, and the demon had already laid out clothes for me. As much as I was a capable adult and didn’t need the direction, I appreciated the effort she took, despite me wearing the same things most days. Today was a gray shirt, black slacks, and a black tie. Hmm. I hadn’t really worn a tie before - it wasn’t exactly a gunslinger accessory. But who was I to argue?

As I sat to pull my socks on, I caught myself in the mirror. Or rather, I saw the marred message hastily scrawled across it.

Eric x.

It wasn’t exactly very comprehensive, but it was a continuation of the words unspoken in the bathroom. She was worried and couldn’t express the things she wanted to. It was hard for a demon to appear vulnerable, especially to a lowly human like me. Even with everything we had been through, some things were still early days.

I found myself talking around the point to avoid having to face the inevitable. Might as well get it over with. I holstered the revolver and put my leather jacket and hat on. The tie looked decent and made me appear a little more professional - which could help show the Org that I was serious about growing and not ending up a pulped mess of would-haves and cliche outfits.

Everything felt louder and more pronounced as I made the trip down the stairs and into the basement. Each step, a clomp of my booted feet that signaled the last march of Eric Redd. A funeral procession for… no, that wasn’t fair, with the real one looming closer. I sighed away the morose metaphor and closed the basement door behind me. There was the lingering scent of the fishmen, but I was half surprised to find the offending clothing gone already.

I kneeled down by the portal device and set it to the Org. As soon as I stepped within the circle, it pulsed the blue of acceptance - they must really have been expecting me - and I stumbled with vertigo as I was transferred to their building.

Inside the dark room, I managed to keep my footing as my momentum took me conveniently towards the door.

~Eric Redd. Proceed.

Bow for the room. Almost forgot. The door hissed open, and I turned to greet the Receptionist with a smile that came out more like a grimace.

“Room Three, Mr Redd.”

Bow for the Receptionist. Slightly too quick a motion due to nerves. I swerved away and sighed, exhaling my whole lungs away. Normally, the Org’s obsidian decor was oppressive, but today all I could see was the glowing white light and sheen of imminent oblivion.

Three. There was no name tag on the door, so I wasn’t about to get dressed down by the Director - whether this meant I was in more trouble or less trouble, my racing mind couldn’t get to grips with. The room was empty, aside from the traditional desk and single seat. I walked over the floor, weight increasing on my shoulders with every step until I wrangled myself into the uncomfortable chair.

The sound of boots approaching the door got my attention almost immediately. Multiple people, for certain. My heartbeat began to pulse in my ears, drowning out my thoughts. As the door swung open, Partridge entered, turning promptly to shut the door behind him.

With a metallic click, he locked it.