Usually, when you get away with murder, you might expect some feeling of elation or freedom. The weight of the heinous act melted away as consequences be damned. I hadn’t gotten away with the crime, however. My nefarious acts were well documented, exposed to the cold light of day, and presented to me in earnest. The punishment? Death. But… not yet! I was on a thin thread disguised as a leash, a quick tug away from being garroted whenever they felt like my time was due.

My mind was numb as we both stood from the desk, and I barely registered what Partridge was trying to tell me. It still seemed like some manner of trick. How would Pearl react to knowing the Org knew about us? They were still trying to guide Eric the Loose Cannon into a rut where I could be useful to them, and these were the blind concessions made with nose held. It stood to reason that Hunters would fall to the charms of the demons of the Mid Hells.

It was a lonely and violent life, maddening at the best of times. Suddenly you have an attractive and normal-seeming enemy willing to smudge away those ingrained marks of malaise and… I stopped myself there before I tarnished the picture-perfect life I had been living lately, a frame backed by a thick layer of irony.

Partridge opened the door, and I found myself behind him. It opened up to reveal a group of people clad in tactical gear. Masks, helmets, ballistic armor - the whole nine yards. My tongue rolled across the inside of my teeth as I eyed up their assault rifles. Imagine the damage I could do with a Wight-powered one of those. Despite their mostly covered faces, I could sense their nerves. Well, I could do with the little ego boost.

“You’ll be going through the Deployment Room, like the old days. Wight will join you there. No Blank for this mission, I…” He stopped in the corridor and turned to face me. “I’m sorry for his loss.”

“Sir,” I replied with a nod. There wasn’t much else I could say. The Org seemed even less inclined to investigate than the cops did. Not that it was their job to, but if I had half the private eye skills my noir attitude alluded to, then I’d be doing it myself. I’d already kept my ears open when Pearl and I were chewing up the Lowers. Unless you could decipher pigman farts and Mantid screeches, then that turned up nothing.

We resumed down the hallway, and I noted that the kill squad was following us at a distance. Probably trying to earn their paycheck. Partridge was more of a point of concern. He hadn’t been much of his usual self in our brief dress-down. As much as my ears were relieved to not be assailed by language as blue as the deep ocean, it was out of character. Either he was tired of this gig, or there were other gremlins running around in his mind. My revolver could help find them.

Not a healthy train of thought. I was trying to avoid thinking about the looming Quest I was being thrown into. Hopefully, nothing too corrupting. Normally I would skip back home, but they’d definitely be watching me now. What was the chance that it was something I could Hell Cannon my way through? Probably zero. Oddly, I had missed the skills Wight allowed me. Using my own power was neat but weak in comparison.

Then, we made it to the Deployment Room. The blur of dark decor and white lights had passed me by with little chance for my roving panic to cling to any details. The last time I had needed to portal from the Org, I was still a rookie. Simple kill mission; a handful of pigmen. One of the few times I came out physically unscathed from the Hells. Mentally, not so much.

“You can wipe your own ass from here, Eric. A tech will get you through the other side once you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I gave him another polite nod.

“Eh.” He looked behind me at the gunned-up goons hanging further back. “Thank me by staying alive. Told you the Hells would fuck you, huh?” He gave me a firm pat on the shoulder and humorless smirk as he passed.

It wasn’t odd that he cared for the Hunters on some level. Despite his constant admonishment, it was so that we weren’t too soft for Hell. He wanted us to survive, even if the Org seemed apathetic about our fates. Except for me, apparently. I rolled my eyes at the special treatment I received for being one of the star pupils.

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With a sigh, I pushed open the door and entered the dark room lit by red lights in the corners of the ceiling. If anything, the crimson glow just put me more on edge. On a raised area to my left, control panels were being manned by a man in a dark gray jumpsuit.

“Mr Redd.” He nodded, the dim lighting painting his dark skin almost completely obsidian. “If you take a minute, your patron should join you shortly.”

I gave him a nod and went to sit on a flat bench next to some lockers. It was similar to the prep room before the Thrall Quest, except instead of a large monitor taking up a wall, there was a lowered floor with a portal - similar in design to the one at home. I wondered if I was given old stock after one of theirs had been upgraded. Either way, it was better than painting blood on the floor.

There was a data slate beside me, but I didn’t even want to attempt to try to work it. If the mission was more complicated than killing all demons, then they’d have to tell me verbally. Boy, I felt tired. Sweaty still, despite it being cold in here. I almost found myself wishing for the warmth of Hell, but I lost that train of thought as the black mist began to pool from my wrist.

A dark cloud, the edges of Wight had the slight illusion of being feathers. Two bright crimson eyes beamed out from the black fog. Then finally, a shiny beak of pitch obsidian picked up the hints of the overhead red lighting.

“Wight, I’ve missed you.” The words came out before I had the chance to validate them, but it was true. He had become a part of me, figuratively and literally, and not having him around had been miserable.

[It is good to see you too, Eric.]

“Unformed again? The beak is nice, though.” Slightly less alarmingly goofy than the toothed maw.

[This is the way the Organization would prefer me to be currently. Floating also has its advantages.]

That was true. I hadn’t considered how things would be different if he was a bird person following me around. How would that interact with our abilities? Things seemed easier to explain over when he was made of mist.

[Are you okay, Eric? You look pale.]

“Must be the lighting, I’m… good.” I shot a quick glance at the tech to see if he was listening in, but he seemed preoccupied.

[The truth, now.]

'I’m a tiny bit poisoned by corruption. A Titan mouthed me.'

[…I am unsure whether to be impressed or disappointed.]

Pick the first one. I didn’t even remember if Pearl had fully killed the monster or it was just stunned by how immutable my spirit was. Definitely that.

“Mr Redd? The portal is ready when you are.”

I raised my hand in thanks and stood from the bench with a grunt. “They brief you, Wight?”

[Correct.]

“Great.” My feet were itchy, and although the Lowers were a bit of ‘out of the frying pan’, I had no intention of spending longer in the Org headquarters than I had to. “Avail me when we get there.”

I almost tripped down the two unlit black stairs into the recessed area where the portal runes were glowing. Health hazard. You would think there would be a bit more ceremony for traveling through a plane-splitting portal into the depths of literal Hell, but with a shrug, I stepped through into the unknown.

Travel was near instant, and I continued a step or two as I now stood in the amber plane of the Lowers. Same old overpowering heat, cracked stone, and a whisper of something untoward in the air.

Wight followed soon after and immediately pooled into my revolver as I drew it. “Ah, that feels-

[Feels better, doesn’t it?]

I couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across my face, but the mask of obsidian filtered over it, leaving only glowing slits of crimson where my eyes were.

“So, who are we getting maimed by today?”

[We have been sent to parlay with the Pig King.]

“Huh.” That was a whole lot of words that I particularly did not want to digest into the thinking part of my gray matter. I turned slowly from the near-endless expanse of nothing in front of me to see the familiar construction of pigmen buildings behind me. Funny how I managed to orientate that poorly lately. There were a lot of buildings.

“Wait, what even is the Pig Ki-“ I stumbled and twisted my ankle in trying to turn, the loose gravel betraying my boots and breaking away. A blur and then a pain in my head before I was pressed against the warm ground. I held my eyes closed for a moment to make sure reality wouldn't start leaking away, a slight pounding in my skull like I was being used as a blacksmith's anvil. Make me whole.

[Are you okay?]

Nothing like a little head trauma to start- to continue the bad day. “Shucks, Wight, that was silly on my part.” Those words were… odd. I blinked several times as I pushed myself back to my feet.

Clearly, I must have damaged some part of my optics. I waved my hand in front of my face and then held it away from me with a frown.

Everything was blocky in color instead of the usual high-definition palette. Even my glove seemed to have a dark outline to it as I turned it in the air. My heartbeat was calm, and there was no pounding music. A cloud of dust puffed into the air as I brushed my slacks off.

[You seem to be having an episode, Eric.]

“Episode? Gosh, I’m in a cartoon!” Internally, I screamed.