There was the danger of the Lowers feeling like a second home. Even my actual second home felt awkward compared to the familiar amber warmth of Hell. The brain could get used to discomfort. Numb to horror and personal injury, some days I even looked forward to getting back into the depths to see what malady I could shake loose - or find out who I could break along the way.

We returned to the house, stepping out to the almost-familiar basement. Same, but different. Still needed getting used to.

“Well, that was… okay?” I shrugged and deflated.

Rodney switched off the portal and went to sink into his chair. “I have no idea how you can put up with Partridge. That man is intimidating. Also, very creative.”

I shot him a smile. “You get used to it after a while. Plus, I think I’ve faced much worse in Hell by this stage. Partridge might verbally threaten me, but he isn’t going to leap across the room and sever my head off.”

The Blank raised an eyebrow, but didn’t seem too convinced.

Wight pooled back into the basement and then shook his feathered form.

[I wonder who they would like us to kill next?]

We would have to wait for Rodney to get the brief sent over to find out, so I too relented to sitting on my recliner. Wight went and sat on his smaller chair and cross a feathered leg over the other. While the Blank set up his technology, I allowed myself a bit of visual peace by closing my eyes.

I hadn’t heard from the Rat God since achieving balance. Whether that meant he was happy or not, I wasn’t sure. At least I hadn’t torn myself into several pieces in the process of absorbing both divine and demonic energy. Although the day was young—since taking my time recovering, I hadn’t used any of my powers excessively. There was still a chance I was one bad day away from painting the walls with my insides.

“How goes the shotgun?” I asked Rodney, raising an eyebrow. Mostly just trying to pass the time while I was antsy about getting into the mission. I wasn’t usually so on edge, but downtime made me soft. Just needed to break the seal and revel in the madness again, and I’d feet right at home.

“Another… two days, maybe?” Rodney looked up from his screen and furrowed his brow. “Passage is doing a good job. It’s just a mix of slow information, and then me trying to process it. I hadn’t engraved anything before, so…”

I nodded. There wasn’t really much of a hurry for it. An expanded arsenal might be a huge boon for us in the long term, however. Especially if we got to the Mids and couldn’t rely on our enemies being brainless melee-only demons.

[Eric. I overheard something at the Org.]

Involuntarily, I shuddered, and turned my head to him. “What kind of thing?”

[Perhaps it is better to discuss after the Quest.]

“Then why bring it up now?” I sighed and deflated. Now I would definitely be on edge until he told me. “Just give me the details.”

[The Org plan to do testing on you.]

I blinked slowly. That was quite the chunk of information to just dump on me. Although I wouldn’t usually paint myself as an imaginative creature, after seeing the things I had seen in my time, the phrase ‘testing’ didn’t sound too peachy. The best thing was to try to not let those thoughts rule the roost.

“Is that to see what magical powers I have that they don’t know about?”

[That is my assumption, yes. They will say it’s for checking the pact vessel, but they know you have been moonlighting.]

“They want to keep a tight leash on their best and brightest.” A little ego there, but I deserved it now and again. After that one long day… there could be no doubting I was a step above even Hunters of my same Level. I just needed to ensure I didn’t get ahead of myself, lest I trip and shoot myself in the back.

[Not the words they used, but certainly.]

He kicked his legs back and forth as he sat in his chair.

What a life I lived. “We will cross that bridge when we get to it, then.” As much as I liked to think I could take the Org down, putting it into practice was another thing entirely. I didn’t fully know the extent of what they were capable of—the building might even have something to weaken or destroy me.

[Acceptable.]

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I tipped my hat to him, glad we were on the same page. He wanted out too, but where that would leave us after was another unknown. It was nice to think we could be free and live happily ever after, but even if we recovered his other pact vessel and took the control away from the Org… would Wight even want to be bound to me still?

He looked happy enough most days, but he was a mere sliver of his true form. Without most of his powers and memories. If he wanted those unlocked, some true freedom to return to his true self, then that probably spelled the end of our partnership. Probably a few city blocks too - could his true form really be trusted to behave if he was some manner of all-powerful demon or other entity?

“Brief is coming in now,” Rodney announced, breaking me from those dour thoughts.

If anything, as bad as they were, the Org was keeping us in this functional unit. No easy out, but tolerable enough to stay. When they tried to ‘test’ me, if they could find the Rat God or divine influence within me…

“Alright, hit me with it,” I relented, hoping he could draw me away from this mire of thought I was so keen to trudge my way through.

Rodney groaned, exhaling through his nose continuously as he read through the words being sent over. “You’re going to love this…”

I most certainly wasn’t.

“Intercepting a transport group. They want information and cargo from the demons.” He pulled a face at me.

“That doesn’t sound… too bad.” There were certainly worse ways of spending time in the Lowers, and between my combat proficiency and interrogation skills, it seemed right up my alley for a change. Perhaps the Org was going soft on me.

“You haven’t heard the location yet.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Misery.”

[That is an amusing coincidence.]

It wasn’t. I worked my jaw and deflated. The faux old-western styled town had been the site of two rather traumatic encounters. Why things had to keep returning to that page made it clear that whoever their finger in my destiny liked to go back and laugh at the joke. Serves me right, perhaps.

“I’m sure it will be,” I finally relented. “Go in, get some dirty looks in the bar, surprise the targets when they stop off for a demon-ale?”

The Blank grinned. “Got it in one. There’s going to be a dozen of them, as far as they know. Nothing too dangerous, but you’ll need to find out what they’re transporting and why.”

Seemed like a bit of a hand holding mission, but they did want to make sure I was still capable and my brain didn’t burst from my weakened skull. Something I had a vested interest in finding out too, truth be told.

“Alright, spool it. You ready, Wight?”

[More than ever, Eric.]

I did some stretches while Rodney pressed the runes into the right position for our destination. By this point I could almost memorize them myself. Not that I even hated the place. It was where Pearl and I had our first kiss, after all. If I ignored the ash and dried blood, then it was almost a place of sentiment. Such a shame I was about to mar it with further violence.

“All good.” Rodney went back to his chair and got his tech set up. His earring glowed a bright blue as his demonic patron connected him to the viewing screen.

Over our time off, I had kept an eye on the Blank to ensure nothing untoward happened with his pact. Naturally, he was somewhat immune to the corrupting influences of demons due to his nature. For all intents and purposes, I saw no change in him or anything to worry about in his interactions with the demon called Passage.

Far be it for me to believe something could just be okay. A generous slice of apprehension still lay on the dining table in my mind. Right next to the pancakes.

[Let’s go, Eric. I itch for the Hells once more.]

With a nod, I checked for my revolver and two knives. Finding them on my belt as I liked, there was nothing left but to step through the portal. Which I did, although it happened so quick I was briefly disorientated. There was no vertigo, even. Just the basement, and then a quick flash and now I was in the Lowers once more.

Amber light smothered everything in sight. The large walls containing this layer of Hell rose all around, super-heating the near infinite plains of rock and sand.

I lifted my hand up and frowned, observing it before anything else. That was… new.

//Visual confirmed. Audio check.

“Loud and clear.”

//Confirmed. Approach at will.

Wight pooled in beside me into his bird-man form and took his blade from my belt. He paused and looked up at me, narrowing his crimson eyes.

[Everything okay, Eric?]

Hmm. I looked back down at him and lowered my arms. “It’s not warm down here.”

[Interesting.]

He put a small clawed hand on my forearm, holding onto my leather jacket.

[It seems you are dying, very slowly.]

“You mean… ageing?” I exhaled. Hell was supposed to be constant and overbearing heat. At present, I felt like I had just stepped out of the house on an average spring day. Pleasant, and not uncomfortable. Which itself was uncomfortable.

[You are a different man compared to last week. This may be a result of that.]

Despite the worries it brought up, I kind of liked it. The Lowers were no longer a stressful grind. Corruption wasn’t beating on the door trying to claw a way into my head. I smiled and started off toward the town.

If I didn’t know any better, it didn’t look like I had laid waste here twice previously. The buildings cluttered around the single central road looked no different - and the saloon itself had been rebuilt. I gave them some slight respect for being so proficient. It seemed as though things were just destined to return to their natural state at some point.

Perhaps we should check out the location of the Nightclub at some point, just to see.

The pair of us walked down from the rocky hill and into the town proper. We caught eyes deftly, the demons around lurking in alleys or scurrying at the sight of us. I had a reputation now. In fact, even as I thought this…

“Gentlemen.” I tipped my hat at two crocodile-demons leaning in the mouth of an alleyway.

Their first reaction was of surprise before they nodded. “Boss,” they grinned at me with wide jaws.

[The gang seems to be alive and kicking still.]

One of my more amusing jaunts into the hells had me inadvertently taking over the whole demonic gang and re-branding it as my own. The Org didn’t see the humor in it, but perhaps they were too detracted from the situation.

Our feet eventually took us to the entrance to the saloon. The usual raucous noise and hammy piano music flowing from the swinging doors, just as you would expect from such a cliche.

“Here goes nothing.” I raised an eyebrow at Wight and shrugged as he spun his knife around in his hand.

[Welcome back to Hell, Eric]