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The Devil May Care

Part 48

For DuskCypher

By Draconicon

The realm of Purgatory had become a hunting ground for the demons of Greed. They were in and out at all times, searching for souls that they could bring back and turn into merchandise. They were exceptionally good at it, and the various souls that populated the shadowy, gray realm were easy prey after going without any predators or dangers for so long. They were seized by the dozens and pulled down to Hell, put to work as the power sources for magical items or as the supports for different buildings in the many architectural works that were booming throughout the realm of Greed, and in Guild City, in particular.

Yet, at the same time, there were those that were taking care of the souls still there. Shadows and light darted through the realm, sliding between the greedy gazes of the demons that stepped through the portals and seizing those that were 'not worthy' of Hell. The young, the unfairly murdered - though the fairly murdered were still left behind - and the heroic were approached, touched by one particular shadow, and then disappeared with it.

The word spread through the souls of Purgatory that there was a rescuer there, someone that would save them from the demons, one that would take them to a kinder fate. They knew not what that fate was, but they were willing to listen, and they were willing to hope. Surely, it would be better than being dragged away and turned into some sort of object.

For the souls of Purgatory were not so damaged as one might have thought, not so dead to the world as those in Hell believed. They had lived long, and they had been blunted to much through their dead lives in the ghostly plane, but that didn't mean that they had lost their minds completely.

They still existed.

They still thought.

They still felt.

So, when the choice came between trusting the shadow and trusting the demons, the choice was obvious. Those that were lucky enough to see it took its offer, and went with it, unable to tell anyone else just where they were being taken.

And the demon guards never seemed to notice. They were either too busy, or, in the case of some, too lazy. Far, far too lazy...

#

Wrath opened up before them, and it was a realm of Fire and Thunder, with capitals to those words that seemed like they belonged here more than any other place that Dusk had ever seen. The black cat looked down at the realm through the cockpit windows, shaking his head as he leaned over Arnis's shoulder.

"This is Wrath?" he asked.

"Ugly, ain't it?"

"It's something."

The whole realm looked like it had been torn apart in a way that would have left the most sociopathic of war powers in the world above wincing in sympathy. The ground was cratered everywhere, buildings were torn apart, and only those that had been fortified behind greater powers than those that were exploding all over the place were still standing. There was a palace of sorts towards the center of the realm, led to by a road that was there in name only, as well as several 'estates' that managed to stay mostly together, protected by walls and greater powers than Dusk wanted to think about.

The fact that anything was still standing -

The air rocked beneath them, a series of shockwaves rising from the ground. He looked out the window again, watching as four massive explosions left new craters in the road, blasting the air and the realm itself with violent waves of force.

"What the hell is going on down there?"

"Nothing good, boss," Arnis muttered, the bear shaking his head. "Pretty much the opposite of good."

"I thought that they were happier here."

"They're free, boss. Big difference."

"But they're not -"

"Boss..." Arnis gritted his teeth, shaking his head. "Look, you'll see when you land, but...the whole thing isn't just solved. You can set someone free from a prison, but that doesn't mean that their life is fixed. Not that fast."

The plane came in for a landing, and not one of them enjoyed the process as they rattled and rolled over a runway that was bombed to Hell and back again. Dusk himself elected to remain standing through it rather than sit, and he was fairly certain that it was the only reason that his spine didn't feel like it was ready to pop out of his back. The rest of the passengers groaned and grunted and complained all the way through, and he was pretty sure that Selene would have been ready to murder Arnis for landing the plane like that if she could have gotten away with it.

However, they were on the ground now, and the heat of all the Fire out there was all the stronger. Dusk started sweating almost immediately, and had to fight the temptation to rip his coat off. He shook his head, dabbing his face.

"Anyone want to explain why this place is more Fire and brimstone than the rest of Hell?" he asked.

"Wrath has always been the hottest of the realms," Selene said, shaking her head. "It's part and parcel of its existence."

"I thought it might have calmed down since the curse was lifted."

"Yes, well, that would be a choice..."

"And not one that they made, apparently?"

"Tell me, if you had something to distract you from all the guilt and shame that you felt, would you get rid of it so easily?"

"..."

Selene nodded knowingly at him, and the lioness sighed as she got to her feet. Clearly, she had her own issues with this place, though it wasn't due to the Fire - he wished he could stop thinking of it in capitals - as she wasn't sweating the way that he was. She made her way to the gangplank, waiting for it to go down, and Balthus joined her.

Ornar Onsen and the rest of his entourage were waiting there already, save for Arnis. Dusk cast a glance over his shoulder at the bear demon, waiting for him to leave the cockpit. It took the bear a moment, but he sighed and joined them.

"Something that I should know, Arnis?"

"Nothing from me, boss," his bodyguard said.

"But something."

"...Probably."

"..."

"..."

"That's an invitation to tell me," Dusk said.

"I know, boss."

"And you're...not?"

"It's something I'm hoping isn't a thing, still. It's been a little while. Maybe they're not going to hold me to it."

"Arnis -"

"Gangplank going down!" Balthus called back.

The black cat fixed his bodyguard with a glare that promised that they were going to be talking about this later, then stepped forward to join the rest of the group. Smoothing out his long coat, he fought the urge to pull a cigarette out and take a few puffs. Something was off here, and he didn't like this feeling of going into a new situation without having all the facts.

But he'd gone through worse. He could handle this. He hoped.

As the gangplank went down, the Fires of Wrath burned all the hotter. The runway was literally on fire, burning hotter and then colder, red to blue and then back to red again without any seeming rhyme or reason. It didn't cook them as they stood there, but it did make Dusk increasingly more resentful of the power of the realm. He could feel it seeping through him, forcing him to feel angry when he didn't want to, and it took a great deal of effort to force that rage back down. His Wrath had come through and nearly caused Armageddon before; he could feel that it could easily happen down here again.

Breathing deep brought the smell of old explosions, like the gunpowder-smoke smell of fireworks after a display, to his nose. Except that there was more to it than that; there was a metallic smell under it, something that was almost like blood, like fire burning through bodies, like the marrow-burn that filled the air after a body exploded.

It was sickening.

It was euphoric.

The double-sided emotion of nauseating excitement from the violence shocked him to the core, and that made it so that he could finally shake himself free of that weird sensation. He shook his head, looking past the gangplank to the demons that were on the approach.

They were Tasmanian Devils, Bears, and one very angry-looking donkey that was bringing up the rear. All of them were red-eyed, all of them seething as they walked along. Where they stepped, the fires flared, and then would die again as they walked along. Here and there, the fires would slowly recede as they seemed to become aware of their own anger, taking deep breaths, doing little mental exercises, and for a time the fire would go blue and cold, only to flare up again when they lost control once more.

It was rather fascinating in its own way, though it was disturbing as well. The openness of the realm was reassuring, as it meant that he would always know where he stood, but to know that there was this much rage...

I thought that this was supposed to be an easy one...

Then again, he wasn't sure why. Nothing else had been easy, so why should this?

"Dusk Von Doom?" asked the Tasmanian Devil at the front of the group. "Do I address the one responsible for Lucifer's death?"

Dusk noted the stilted nature of his speech, formal and constrained, almost like it was intentionally done for the sake of restraining the way one spoke. The cat nodded, taking two steps down the gangplank.

"That's me."

"Be welcome unto Wrath."

It was clipped and halting, something that was definitely being spoken through clenched teeth. Were they angry at him? Afraid? Something was certainly off. If it hadn't been the move of a coward, he would have thought to get back on the plane and take off. He resisted that urge, knowing that they would probably blow the damn thing up before it got halfway into the air again. Better to face it head-on. At least that should be something that they would respect.

"I feel welcome already."

"Lies, but they are...welcome."

The Tasmanian Devil bowed at the waist. As he did, Dusk was aware of something else, something more. The various demons that were assembled before him all wore some sort of armor, though it varied from one to another. Some wore leather, some metal, and some wore something that he didn't recognize, black and shining like well-polished metal, but with a feeling to it that made the eye want to scream by looking at it. The Tasmanian Devil at the front had chosen leather, but even that had the scripts of soul-runes drawn over it, obviously something that had been purchased from Greed long ago. It barely contained his broad shoulders and thickly-muscled chest, but it did make him look even bigger than he already was.

"I am Lord Jarrah. And you will follow me to the palace."

"...The palace?" Dusk asked.

"Yes. We must install you quickly."

"Install - I'm not here to take command to that extent," Dusk said.

That...was apparently the wrong thing to say. No sooner had that left his mouth than the donkey at the edge of the procession ran forward, lunging straight at the plane. He barreled past one of the bears before being restrained fifty feet back from the plane by two of the Tasmanian Devils -

BOOM!

And then exploded.

Demon essence burst out from the barrier that the two Tasmanian Devils had created with their bodies, with blood and worse hitting the ground and instantly being seared in, as well as burning every exposed bit of flesh near the blast zone. Even fifty feet back, Dusk felt the explosion rattling through his bones, shaking the gangplank under him, and yet the Wrath demons that had done the restraining still stood. They were burnt, marked by the explosion, but they stood there, still.

Lord Jarrah growled deep enough to send another vibration through the gangplank, and for a moment, Dusk wondered if there was going to be another explosion. Certainly, the fires all around them leaped higher at that, and they were surrounded by the heat of flames that seemed all too willing to consume anything that they touched.

Then the moment passed, and the fires died down. Not completely, but enough to allow them to leave the plane.

"We move. Quickly."

"Right," Dusk muttered, glancing over his shoulder. Ornar and Arnis hurried to his side, and Seraph took position immediately behind him. Selene moved to stand in front of him, and Balthus was trailing behind with Bitch, keeping an eye on the pit bull.

They were ready to make their way across Wrath. Lord Jarrah set the pace, with the Tasmanian Devils spreading out around him, while the bears formed a rear-guard of sorts. Dusk wondered just how many more explosions would greet them on the way to the palace.

Thirteen. Unlucky Thirteen, as it turned out, as the last of them had blown a hole in the palace doors when they came charging forward and exploded. Dusk was starting to see why the whole realm felt like a war-zone. Everyone could just turn into a suicide bomber the minute that they took it into their heads to do it.

Lord Jarrah assigned the rest of his people to fixing the doors, then, when they were alone in the throne room, threw a punch at one of the pillars supporting the ceiling. It shattered into dust, then atoms with the blow, the demon growling hard enough to rattle the whole room and shake the dust free of every corner.

"Again...and again...this keeps...happening," Lord Jarrah said.

"The explosions?" Dusk asked.

"Yes...we strive...to control ourselves. Not all of us...manage."

He could hear the deep breathing that was coming through as more of a ragged, ripping sort of sound than the Tasmanian Devil might have intended. He didn't comment on it. The Fires that burned at the corners of the room seemed to be dying down again, no longer surging to the ceiling the way that they had been at the first blow. It was something, he supposed, something that showed that the demons wanted to have self-control.

He glanced at Selene, saw that the lioness wasn't bothered. Either this was common, or she was putting on a face that he would do well to copy. He kept his confidence, and his silence as he waited.

Lord Jarrah took a minute to drag himself together, the noble demon standing tall a few seconds later. He folded his hands behind his back, nodding his head slowly.

"I apologize...for this outburst. There will be corrections. To myself. And others."

"Corrections for the sake of our safety and your realm are appreciated. But what was that?"

"An unfortunate...very unfortunate...misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? About what?"

"About your purposes."

"You thought that I was here to take charge?"

"There are those...afraid...of the way that you might."

"...Ah. You think I'm going to become Lucifer."

Lord Jarrah nodded in his stiff, over-controlled away, clearly not entirely convinced that Dusk wasn't going to do that himself, but going out on a limb with some bit of hope. The cat nodded. He wasn't entirely offended. A little offended, considering everything that he had done for Hell so far, but not entirely.

After all, Wrath had been beaten down hard, and for all that he had freed them from the effects of Lucifer's spell, that had been incidental to gaining his own powers. That didn't mean that they were liked by him, as far as they were concerned. They were just benefitting from something that he had done by accident. All the little gifts and blessings that he had rained down on Lust and Greed had yet to come to them, and it might not.

Particularly if he needed a fighting force.

Dusk looked around the room, taking the time spent observing this place to gather his thoughts together. The force of that explosion and the fact that the demons had survived it had told him just what sort of warriors he was dealing with compared to the peons that had been thrown at him in Gluttony. The Wrath demons were made of sterner stuff than the other demons that he had fought, and he now understood what Arnis meant when he said that fighting wasn't really an option here. Not when they were this outnumbered.

More to the point, he saw why Lucifer had kept this realm angry. If it ever turned its power on him, he would need a great deal of numbers to turn back warriors that could take that much damage and stay standing. And if they thought that he was here to enslave them the way that the old Satan had...

They want to stay free. Can't blame them.

Dusk rubbed the back of his head, turning in place. The whole throne room was...opulent, he supposed, but it was opulent in the way of being too big, too grand. It was made to be filled, he realized, and filled with rage and Fire the way that the rest of the realm had been. This was a place where those that were furious could let loose without destroying everyone, because there was room to pull back.

This was a gift to those filled with the curse of Wrath. This was where they could be safely angry.

"I came here...to help," Dusk said.

"What we require isn't help. What we require is a miracle," Lord Jarrah said.

"Clearly."

"We have been...damaged...by the curse. It is too easy for us to...seize hold of our anger. It is too easy to become...furious. Our control is...limited. Very limited. And our fear..." The Tasmanian Devil shook his head. "You saw what happened at the airfield. You saw...the explosion. That was the result...of fear."

"He was so afraid that he blew up?"

"No. He was so afraid of what might happen that he turned his rage...his fury..."

"...He exploded from being too angry?"

"In hopes of taking you down."

"Why me?"

"Because you were not here to take charge. He heard that..."

It was not shock, or guilt, or stupidity that was making Lord Jarrah speak the way that he did, Dusk realized, but rather an anger that he kept biting back, keeping himself focused and formal so that he could get his ideas out without biting his own tongue off. The Tasmanian Devil was rocked with that rage, holding it back by the skin of his teeth. He wanted to lash out, wanted to be that Wrath demon that the curse had formed him into, but he was doing his best to hold it back.

Dusk had to admit, he was impressed. The fact that the Tasmanian Devil was managing that well was something to be commended, particularly down here where the whole realm seemed intent on keeping one angry.

He was feeling it, too. To have an assassination attempt right at the start, to know that they were targeted just for visiting when they had nothing but the best of intentions, was enraging enough. He didn't want to think about what long-term exposure to the realm would do to someone, let alone that curse.

"I'm not here to be Lucifer. I'm here to make things better."

"We will see. And hope."

"You will be satisfied, by the end of this."

"..."

"But I will not rule." Dusk shook his head, glancing at the throne at the end of the room. "And I will not stay here."

"...You will not sit on the throne?"

"No."

"...I am grateful."

"Is there somewhere else that I can stay, instead?"

"...I will allow you to stay at my estate."

It was another moment of favor for favors, he was sure, but at least here, it would be measured without the interest rate that Greed liked to charge. And from the sound of things, Lord Jarrah had every reason to want to keep him alive. Hope was not exactly a powerful thing compared to the sheer consuming nature of Wrath, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing. And these demons seemed to have been dealing with nothing for far too long.

Whatever else Lucifer had done to Hell, he had fucked Wrath over harder than anything that Dusk had yet seen. When becoming a suicide bomber was easier than believing that someone might have your better interests at heart, then things were very wrong indeed.

Arnis stood outside the palace. The bear knew that his boss was probably dealing with Jarrah and looking for a new place to stay. He chuckled; the cat never liked sticking around the fancy places like this. High-quality places, yeah, but not the rich and powerful places. He wasn't that sorta cat.

Just like he wasn't the same sort of demon as the other bears around him, he supposed.

They weren't all from House Judas, but most of them were, and he knew that they recognized him. They would have recognized him coming off the plane, for that matter, though none of them had said a damn thing. Probably for the best; if Dusk realized that he was more than just a warrior, then there might have been some issues for him to sort out. Better to keep it that way if he could.

At least there was no sign of -

Ah, shit...

He spotted her coming up the cratered, cracked steps of the palace, wearing the same leather armor that she'd worn the day that he had given his oath to Dusk in the House of Diel. She wasn't at full fury, though she had the snarl of anyone that had to spend their lives down here.

Arnis sighed. So much for avoiding this.

He walked down the steps to meet her. Despite his discontent, the pair of them still met up amiably enough, the two bears embracing tightly. Their arms wrapped around one another, pulling each other close. Fur met leather, strength tested strength, and he was reminded just how much power his mother could bring to bear, feeling her grip pulling tighter and tighter until he was wheezing in her arms.

To be fair, she was doing the same in his, and by the time that they let go, she chuckled, and so did he. They patted each other on the back, sharing smiles that they both probably knew were going to die before long.

"I'm glad that you finally came home, Arnis."

"Yeah, but...not for that."

"...Come with me."

With dying smiles, they descended the stone steps back to the remnants of the war-torn city. They walked around the corner, shielded by rubble from view of the palace steps and those that were still in it. Arnis knew that this would have been the perfect staging point for an ambush, but this was his mother. That wasn't going to happen. Not before she had her chance to have her say, at least.

Without warning, she leaned him against the stone wall behind him. The looming, muscular bear woman narrowed her eyes at him.

"You promised," she said.

"I know, I know, but you know how it is. Obligation, contract."

"Screw the contract."

He wasn't sure if there was a list of things that a demon could say that would get him to pay attention, but that was probably the thing that would hit the top of the list. No demon would ever suggest to someone else that they back out of a contract. Even two assholes that hated each other would have forced the other to stay with it, and that was even if there was the possibility of getting an advantage on the other if they broke the contract. You just didn't do that.

And yet, here was his mother, his mom, telling him to break a contract? Why?

"You can't trust him," she said, nodding up at the palace. "You can't trust anyone like that."

"What, Dusk?"

"Von Doom is dangerous."

"He's my boss." Arnis narrowed his eyes. "And I made a contract with him."

"You fucking offered it to him."

"And he took it."

"And you can take it back."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The demons of Wrath might not have had much during the years of the Curse, but they had had their honor. They had their pride that they had done whatever they could to keep to the contracts that they had taken. The few that Lucifer had allowed, the few that had snuck through that net, they had kept to the letter of the law, to the point where it had actually killed some of them to do it. That had been the only sustaining thing for them past the raw anger.

Except...

Except for him. After he had been made to kill his sister, after he had been made to kill Amelia, he had been locked away since his rage had been too strong to be bound to a contract. He had been forbidden from it for so long.

And that's why I need this...

He had been able to control himself with that. Dusk had been better for him than staying in Hell would have been. He had become a different person...somewhat. Kind of.

"I can't," he muttered.

"You promised."

"When I came back, yeah. But not when the contract's still going."

"We need you, Arnis. House Judas needs you. The family needs you. We're..."

The rage around his mother broke for a moment, and he saw what she couldn't say. They were broken. They were afraid, and that fear led to more anger to try and hide it, and that led to more fear of what the anger would do, and that led to more anger to deal with that and keep it from coming out. It was a spiral, an all-consuming spiral that would never fade until they were sucked dry by it and left with nothing but either the fear or the anger. If the latter, they would explode; if the latter, then they would die, because the anger that made them a Wrath demon was gone, and they would no longer be able to survive.

"I can't help you," he muttered.

"Not even for your sister?"

"...That's low, mom...that's really low."

"You owe your family, Arnis. We need you now."

"And I just told you, I can't!"

He was shouting, he realized, and the Fires around him were starting to rise. His mother was doing the same, even though they were still face to face. The shouting was just something that they did, that all Wrath demons did, even before the Curse, but especially after. It had taken him so long to get used to the quieter voices in Dusk's employment, and he had almost forgotten what it was like to be in a screaming match.

But he refused to back down. His employment, his contract, made it impossible. Dusk had ensured that there was no way for him to 'betray' the feline, and even if there wasn't, he knew that the black cat had changed his life. He owed the man, and he wasn't going to just give that up.

And besides...the only person that he had owed was his sister, and he couldn't pay her back by giving up on this contract. He turned away -

"Don't turn your back on us, Arnis."

He paused, but only because of the slight quiver worming its way through his mother's anger. There was real fear there, and not of him.

She doesn't believe Dusk...

And if his mother, someone that had reason to trust him, didn't believe that Dusk would be better than Lucifer, then he had no business believing that the rest of the realm would listen if he said anything about it. They had suffered for generations under a single ruler, someone that had abused them, warped them, made it clear that anyone that could control them would turn them into a weapon for their own amusement. Lucifer had made family kill family, both for punishment - as in his case - or for amusement, as siblings killed siblings, children killed parents, and parents killed children. There was nothing off-limits, and the demons of Wrath carried those scars beneath their anger.

He had been lucky, in some respects. He had howled in rage for centuries after killing his sister, had been bound to the chains of Wrath, but he hadn't been forced to keep doing it. He hadn't been left out to kill more than once. Other demons had mutilated and slaughtered, and they were terrified of anyone making them do it again.

They knew they needed help - hell, his mother was asking for it - but they were asking the wrong person. They needed a contract, someone that they could trust on top, and if they didn't have that, then they were doomed. This was not something that they could solve on their own.

"I can't."

"...Why?"

"I told you. It's a contract."

"...So that's more important to you."

He heard her walk away, and he didn't dare turn to watch her leave. He knew that he'd see either her disappointed eyes, her hurt expression, or the tears that he could feel already brewing in his eyes. She would look as hurt as he felt right then, and he didn't need the guilt to carry with everything else that he had churning away inside him.

He walked around the corner to find Dusk and the rest of the group coming down the stairs. The boss told him to get in line, that they were going to Lord Jarrah's place. Pretty much what Arnis had expected.

Gonna have to tell him about everything, soon, he thought. He needs to know if he's going to figure out how to handle all this...

But not here, not out in the open. He could hold onto this little secret for a bit longer, just a little bit longer.

The End

Summary: Dusk arrives in Wrath, and learns the instability that is causing some serious problems.

Tags: No Sex, Mental Issues, Tasmanian Devil, Bear, Explosion, Mule, Bomber, Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Worldbuilding, Wrath, Rage, Anger Issues,