Chapter 14 - Enemy lines

[Jack]

(ICSVortex)
A thunderous echo of screams around Simen Hestnaes, as he opens his eyes....a bit surprised to see himself in hell. "Well what do you know, I made it here. Last time they f**king sent me to Vallhalla. This is more of my style." an odd smile quivered along his lips...He's a bit disgusted with himself, he didn't even get to go to the lowest level with Satan himself. He laughs it off a little bit, the deep operatic voice over the screams around him of those covered with Leporic scabs. Walking slowly into the area, he looks to the people around him. This is a pretty deep level of hell, very few people here, since they had to be pretty horrible to get to this place.

Coming up to him, are a pair of the Malebranch demons, and they crack their knuckles, speaking in a low tone of tounges. They then cackle...He Looks up at them and smiles...he is a tall man, but these are some large demons. He pulls his hair back out of his eyes to see them, and says in a soft voice "You two smell like pure nuts." He looks down to the sides, and sees the human waste everywhere, and it disgusts him quite a bit. He glances back up at them, and the one Tries to take him by the arm, to give him some horrid punishment, but he pulls his arm back, thrusting a balled fist into the cheek of one of them. The other one, surprised, jumps at him, trying to take him down. he Thrusts the one demon still hanging onto him into the other one. They colide, and as they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. he Pulls the demon off, and the other demons look at him, and just laugh, knowing that they shouldn't even bother him. Simen likes it here. "Aside from the stench, this place is kinda fun. They all deserved this." He looks for the exit, seeing as the Demons don't give a damn where he goes.

As he is, or was to be precise, a human, he cannot fly, and search high in the Maleboge. He sighs, his sword jangling in it's massive leather sheath against his side, and part of his leg. he finally sees a bit of the energy from a warping portal, and thrusts himself into it; having to put substancial force into his blow to push through it so that others that are not strong enough cannot get out. he seems to phaze away from the level, within minutes of ariving.

[Jack]

(ICSVortex)
Coming forth through the portal, he is blown around by bits of cosmic winds, and other unfathomable things that belong only to those who need not understand them, Simen finally appears in the next layer of hell. Falling from high in the sky, his long black trenchcoat of leather flapping in the wind, he falls closer to the ground. he comes down with a loud thud, a few Minotaurs around him sort of surprised to see someone coming out of a lower level portal. They raise their bows at him, and Simen just sits there, crouched, his long blonde hair fallen over his naturally white face. a soft smirk shows on the corner of his lips, and he stands up, brushing himself off. "...To think, I thought the last place smelled horrible." He looks around himself, and finds a bow flicking off, and shooting an arrow at him. Simen's Eyes glisten a bit, and he comes off to the side, throwing his blade into the air, straight from the sheat. the Other Minotaurs launch their arrows at him, but in the wave of the massive blade, he cuts the arrows down, and a bit of the dirt and dust, and other elements he would not want to even think about thrust up from the ground. He Moves his hair out of his eyes, and looks at the Beasts, who are rather surprised by all of this. Grinning a little bit now, he tilts his head to the side. "That was atleast enough to get The Maelstrom Blade of Mephisto out..."

The beasts look at one another, and they rush in at him, snorting to alert other ones. They Prep their bows, and they all point at Simen. As all of them fire in unison, he pushes his feet off of the ground, the heavy, steeled tipped boots giving him a surprisingly massive jump. Slinging into the air, he realises they haven't seen him jump because of the fact that the dirt and dust flew up from his launch. He comes down on one of them, and he lashes the Massive blade down onto one, as the beast splits in half. Licking His lips, Simen Launches off to the side, Releasing an insane slash that moves diagonally, a glimmer of light coming off, a large contrast to the darkness surrounding him. One Arrow lands through his coat, and it stays hooked in their, but he doesn't even notice how close he was to being destroyed.

Launching into the air, he takes another one of the demons out with him, and He Laughs in that deep, booming operatic voice. He Bounces off the head of the Minotaur he just cut, the blood squirting out for the Aorta, which he sliced through, and it splashes all over him. Licking his lips off, he continues the onslaught of the Beasts continues. He goes through a few more in a near linear path, not having to dodge much. As he does this, he wonders why these beasts have such horrible weapons. They won't last against anyone who TRUELY deserved to be down here.

Simen Hestnaes's eyes widen just a bit, as he is shot through the arm. He feels a bit of the rage surging inside from being shot, but the incredible pain doesnt stop him. he Twists to the side, and swings the incredibly long sword out and into the face of the Minotaur that shot him. Swirling backwards right away, he felt the wind of one shot coming in. The beasts seem to realise they won't be able to stop him with their forces. They call for a retreat, and Simen doesn't seem to give a damn about this. Launchining into some of the massive Half Human, Half Bull Creatures, he swiftly cuts through them like a hot knife through Butter. He doesn't care that they are giving up, his mind set on taking out as many as possible. They give up on shooting him, and a good deal of them get away. He breathes heavily now, as this would even tire him out..."I see you have to inform your little f**king friends about ICS Vortex...Go Ahead, you ametuer fools. It won't make a difference..." He Looks to his arm, which is gushing blood and dripping out of his jacket. he Pulls the arrow straight out, making a slight grunt. he licks the tip of the arrow off, and throws it aside. He sees the portal wide open. The Minotaurs had it open to mock those who wanted to go through. He laughs to himself, and whipes off his bloody blade, And slides it back into his sheath...

"I wonder what awaits me next...I hope it's actually something good..."

[Jack]

(Onizuka)
An eye twitched, shedding a tear of dry dust across a forest of withered eyelashes. With a sudden spark the rheumy eye's milky blue haze tightened, focused into a perfect blue pupil framing a small, dark iris. Small blood vessels came to life around the clear sky-hued circle, as if they were tiny red lightning bolts bombarding a lovely cobalt world. Several burst, and tiny red splotches of blood clouded the eye as something akin to life raped its way through the man's face, sliding along dry and decayed veins.

The spasm of an errant muscle in the man's pursed cheek gave rise to other small tremors, and a diseased energy flooded the corpse's central nervous system in an awkward ripple. The icy blue eye performed a lazy roll, then snapped to attention, iris shrinking under the focused will of dominant thought.

Asher lay on the moist bank of the Styx, limbs strewn about in a careless fashion that the dead seem to maintain with pathetic abandon. Had someone stumbled by, they would find no discrepancy to stay their attention. The man was dying; perhaps dead already. Nothing remarkable to note of, stained and battered armor (though through use or simple wear of time), bearing a faded and unrecognizable sigil. The forgotten crest had been emblazened upon the simple spread of armor across the dead man's chest, and one of the metal shoulder-bells had been lost. Seen through various gaps and pieces of missing armor were bandages, dry cloth reduced by time to paper.

Although none were present to appreciate his rise from the dormancy of death, Asher felt crowded, vulnerable, borne down by the grip of a deeply seated paranoia which racked his dead tissues with cramped, pinching muscles, and pulled his thin, cadaverous knees to his worn breastplate and rocked slightly. He hadn't died well this time.

The final taunt of his advesary echoed profoundly in his ears (which wept blood and now heard nothing).

"Get thee off the skin of this world, thy filthy, aborted, thing!"

And so yet again whatever Asher had become was cured of the mortal world. With deeply rooted tensions in his gut, he managed a hacking noise from deep in his throat. His second and third heaves managed nothing, but finally a choking sputter removed a broth of blood and congealed mucus that had been well seated in his lungs. A rasped rattle shook the man, as he began to retrain his body in the art of breathing. Inhale. His blood struggled through his body thickly, almost randomly, here breaking skin and spewing forth; there stopping fully on barriers of decayed flesh or dried clots. Exhale. The frenzy of Asher's blood died down to a trickle, and the tingle that filled his body faded to a dull flush. Inhale. Exhale. With a dissatisfied grunt, the man pounded his armored gauntlet over his chest in the manner one beats on the steering wheel of their unstartable car, or one who smacks the side of their television when the reception flickers out. His heart started grudgingly, beginning the dull throb that pushed the blood through his veins properly.

Body twitching erratically with the unceasing movements of numb muscles, the living corpse pulled itself to the Styx hand over hand, kicking restlessly against the glassy sand with awkward feet. In a fashion that could only be described as animalistic, Asher lowered his head and gulped heedlessly of the river of the dead. Though tasting of alkaline and sewage, and smelling of a three-day old battlefield in a humid summer, it was wet, and Asher's lips were parched from several months? Years? Of neglect. After well gorging himself, he fell back from the bank and let out a wailing cry, a throaty roar rarely heard higher then the Malebolge.

"Bah!" Asher declared vainly. "And Rot!" He swung drunkenly to his feet and swayed unsteadily. The silence of the Styx was perturbing, for the dead did not moan their dismal nocturne as they had in seasons past spent. The echo of the monk who had drawn about Asher's conclusion crumbled to cobwebs in his mind, and a blessedly moment empty of thought bubbled forth. He snorted contentedly, staring out across the familiar river with one shivering blue eye. "It profits you naught."

[Jack]

(ICSVortex)
Escaping into the next, higher level of hell, he looks around the area, as soon as he can see what is going on around him. He sees alot of people in pain, but very few demons there. In fact, there are only a few scrambling around. Apparently something is happening around him. He can feel the eerieness, for Hell, the silence is surely deafening, as all that is heard are a few anguished moans and flickering flames of fire and brimstone. The Sulferic smell in the air is stronger here than before...he was smelling excriment before, not any of this stuff. He frowns a little bit, as he was getting excited to take on some new demons and other ungodly beasts around him. He roams the area, as he notices, the higher they get, the less people are in these areas. The levels of hell change, as they get better for each time they move up in rank.

A tortured soul comes next to him, and he grasps Simen by the leg. Simen's eyes widen, not by fear, but by the surprise that someone could be so stupid to grab a man with an obvious giant sword on his body. Simen looks down into the rotten flesh of the man, his eyes missing, as well as alot of skin. The horrific looking man says points to the direction of a tall wall to the side, where there is a Demonic marking on it. He's not sure what it says, but he knows it could be of some inportance. the man drops over, wasted for the day. Simen says nothing, and he walks to this wall, and the symbol which is a good 80 feet high. Sighing, he crouches, and runs up the side of the wall, His boots clanking against the metal, his spiked shinguards hitting the wall a tiny bit. going straight up, he Pulls his blade out, and strikes through the symbol, as it seems to phaze out and dematerialize, a new portal opening, which might go to the Next level of hell. He looks back as he begins to drift through the portal. He nods his head to the rotting man, wondering hoiw he knew about this.

As he floats through this "Empty time and space", he begins to feel a mass power into wherever it is he is going...He bites his lip, the anticipation mending from Madness. Here in hell, he hasn't found a single worthy warrior yet..will that end now?

[Jack]

(Genesis)
One minute prior, Molly had been watching her mother die upon the street. The bullet had burrowed deep into her hostmother's heart.

One man vomited on his shoes. A woman dropped her grocery bags. One kid started crying, obviously not a genesis. The boy standing next to him stared. Molly only stared back.

The officer who shot the woman didn't know what happened first. He heard several loud sickening pops like they were under water. Then he heard the dull thud of the bodies of his companions hit the cement. Blood ran from their noses and eyes...or where their eyes should have been if they didn't look like squashed grapes. He then looked to the girl. He felt his organs begin to expand as she walked closer, which was a feeling he had never quite experienced before.

He fired from where he was standing- a mere four feet away from the little girl, and hit the generator instead. It exploded the same time he did.

The last thought that went through his mind was "Why did I miss?"


Now, instead of the guards, there was nothing but blackness, the sound of garbled moaning, and something else. Molly realized it was her screaming. It took losing her breath for her to realize it. She hadn't opened her eyes yet. To the last of her knowledge, her vocal chords, and everything else had been oblitorated in the blast, but logically that was not true, for she felt her dress and her flesh, and it was solid, and so was the ground she lay upon.

She worked up the courage to open her eyes. Above her, movement, but no light could actually define what boiled above her. Had she known where she was, she would have realized she had at least an hour's worth of walking from the omnious River Styx that loomed infront of her, and a little more than half an hour's walk from the ascension to the fourth level.

That is when the pain started. It shocked it's way through her spine and pounded in her head. Her body had dealt with not only the trauma of being blown into oblivion, but blown through the first four levels of Hell as well. She looked like a fallen bird, crumpled and frail in the way she had landed.

Was she dead? Could the dead feel pain? No, this was a dream. There was no afterlife. Her mother had told her so. Yes, this was a dream. Had to be. Wake up, she told herself. That usually worked, but nothing happened.

Molly gingerly got up. Her dress was untouched, save the dust and mud that caked her entire backside. She brushed herself off the most she could. She could still feel the pulse in her brain.

"Hello?" Somehow, she knew she wasn't going to get a response. Molly, as always, was right. There was only odd, and very frightening white noise. The little girl, despite being a cold product of scientific convenience, was very much afraid.

She took hold of her courage and walked towards the River Styx.

It had been at least fourty-five minutes before she saw any form of animation. All that she had seen was just the scorching horizon that was Styx. Molly hadn't paid it much attention. Her nerves had made her focus on other things, such as the garbled singing... She didn't know exactly where it was coming from, and the gusts of wind that billowed up from the river ushered in a new wave of chorus and screaming. This place was desolate...

Until the zombies attacked (I couldn't help myself).

They came around her left side, and for corpses, they must have all had working tendons because they caught up to her pretty fast. The smell caught her before they could, and she began gagging in mid-run. Never in her clean, sterile life did she ever smell anything half as horrible as the stench that ravaged her nostrils now.

Molly did not know how to control all of her defect, much less actually use it to her advantage. In fact, she wasn't even thinking of fighting back. It had not occured to her that she might be all the defense she needed. The power was new, and so was her situation. So what did the small child who killed six armed men do? What any other child would have done faced with a wall of decaying undead corpses. She ran screaming.

Now the tears started. Somewhere in escaping from the zombies, the murder of her mother, the fading light of hope, and her own sin of killing those men, it became to much for the girl. She fell at the shore of the Styx, spralling out in the mud, gasping for air and for comfort that was never going to come. This was the worst nightmare she had ever had.

The corpses, hot on her trail and nipping at their own heels (quite literally), gathered around the feast slowly, clicking their teeth together as if taking a moment to pray for the blessing of this meal. Molly had fallen silent. Her fits of staggered breathing had slowed. She picked herself up, knealing on the bank in the remorseful mud.

The tall one was the first to pounce. It sprung into the air, it's bony fingers and decayed smile were brought to bare. It stopped mid-air, and was smashed into the ground, far faster than gravity would have allowed. Once it recovered from the mud, its head was bent back in a perverted manner, jaws still snapping and making that awful chattering sound. It was obvious that the creature's neck had been snapped, (but unlike RE zombies) it had not died. A few of the damned were content with feasting upon their disabled commrade, while others still wanted something more lively.

Just before the rest of the beings could have their own chance at the girl, a cry far louder than the hymns of the dead rattled it's way through the air. A moment where both the corpses' attention and Molly's were taken away from the present situation. There was a silence, and even the teeth-snapping stopped for a few moments. Whatever it was, it had suffered far more than these poor souls, and was very, very close. Maybe even around the slight curve of the river. The undead went running, taking their chances with easier prey.

Molly had been shaken from her "other" mindset. She had to find somewhere to hide, and fast. The fear was seeping in.

The only thing she could see that was attainable was a lone tree sticking up out of the ground in protest. Barren and sickly, but tall enough to not be noticed, Molly ran and ascended the tree just as the disgruntled state of a man trudged his way around the bend.

Asher had just begun his journey when he heard a loud snap, and saw something bumble to the ground in a heap of filthy garments at the base of the tree.

[Jack]

(Onizuka)
A shuffling trio of corpses swarmed in to retrieve the strange blossom which had tumbled down the sickly tree. They were in a far more degenerate state then he, but their avid interest in the lass's fair flesh was lively enough, and Asher stole that from them in a surge of transferring life. A strange croaking sound carried out the throat of one as he fell, a gaunt, shriveled twilight spreading across his features. The zombies, deprived of the fraction of animate life that drove their hunger, fell to the ground like discarded clothing. Their mouths stretched in an impossibly wide, silent scream, their backs arched, and thin, cadaverous limbs trailing.

Molly stared blankly at the malicious dead, tears welling in her eyes and lips trembling. She pushed off her elbows and scooted back against the tree, pulling her knees against her chest and burying her head. She began to shake with sobs, all the sudden events crashing down upon her at once. The pain of losing her mother rang sharper and clearer then it had yet; the blind numbness had faded away and she felt well and truly lost.

She certainly isn't of their like, Asher surmised. One of the gloomy dead perhaps, freed from the river by some means? His flesh was now whole, although still very grey and dead. The three cannibals had had more kick in them then he had expected. He stepped carefully over to the trembling girl, not wanting to suprise her. With the cautious gait of a man just released from an intensive care unit after breaking every bone in his body, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Why do you cry, ma petite? You are far too young to have been judged, I think. How came you to be in this place?"

Her fearful eyes peered over her knees, veiled lightly by her dark locks of hair. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were damp with tears. She didn't have any answers for herself, let alone the sick looking man.

NRP: Short post today, trying to get healthily eating again. Must..restore..HP..

[Jack]

(Genesis)
"Judged?" Molly wiped away some tears with her dirty palms, smudging mud across her cheeks and eyelids. What was this judgement? She was not in Babylon, for they would have certainly killed her by now. Babylon was nothing like this. This was a dream. A dream. Just a dream. This man was a manifestation of one of the guards she had killed. Possibly she was in a coma. It was not uncommon for genesis to be in comas. This would have been hell, had there been an afterlife, but there was none. So this was a nightmare and only that.

One question still bothered her, however. If this was a dream from a coma, then why did Babylon bother to keep her alive?

"I was knocked out by the sub generator." No need to explain further to the guard manifestation. Anyone who had lived in Babylon knew of the highly volatile minature power plants that produced energy for the community. If one exploded, you were lucky to get away with half your limbs and original organs.

Asher was simply confused. Whatever a 'sub generator' was, (Maybe royalty or some sort of god?) he or she must have some how kicked the girl out of her world and into this one. But what sort of crime did she commit to deserve this? After all, if you were in hell, you were here for a reason.

He stood up and offered a gaunt hand. Whatever she had done, she was here now, and there was no need to dwell on it unlike the souls in the mud. This was the last place you would want to be remourseful.

Molly blinked and sniffed the sorrow away. No need for crying now, even though the inanimate corpses, still twisted and shrivelled, were enough to make the little girl start another fit of tears. Now was a time of decision. Now was a time of action. Molly accepted the hand and stood, careful not to step on the bodies.

"Now, what is your name, little one?" Despite the mud and the filth that hell had placed upon her, she looked like a doll, Asher noticed. Even the dress was simply too cliche. He looked up, bright blue eye scanning the terrain for any sign of impending danger.

"Molly," she said, grabbing his attention. "My name is Molly." she repeated, for the man looked distracted. Hell certainly was no place for formalities.

"A pleasure, Molly. I am Asher." He gave a comforting smile. She looked like she took solace in it, which was enough for him.

He turned towards the Styx. There was no horn blowing as there had been in the times past. No matter what happened to the horn-blower, the fact was that the larger, more fearsome demons could now cross over at will. Asher was going to leave before they realized it. "Now, Molly, listen. We are about to rise up against creatures more ruthless and gruesome than those wretched souls there." He motioned to the dried corpses. "I make no promises." The moment he turned around, she had met his gaze before he did. "Do you understand?"

The feeling that this was not a dream was slowly creeping its way into her mind. The thought made her stomach uneasy. Molly steadied herself. Harsh, cold reality was nothing new to her. She nodded in compliance to the man named Asher. He couldn't protect her all the time, if at all. This was the simple logic, and logic was a solace from emotion. Oddly, she felt comforted.

They began their journey, Molly keeping up surprisingly well. Asher was impressed.

"Thank you." Molly said suddenly, breaking the long silence between them.

"For what?" Asher still kept his ever-alert watchful eye open for trouble. Again, now was not the time to be pleasant.

"For keeping me company." Molly didn't mention her mother, and she didn't think she ever would. The events that happened before this place would stay a secret, safely tucked away to be her burden, and her burden alone.

There were the usual groans of the dead, and Asher felt obligated to keep up conversation to keep her calm.

"It was nothing..." A wind carrying the cries of the tortured blew between the two of them. "This all seems a bit much for someone so young to go through. You do not seem like you belong in Hell." He spoke up, trying to drown out the horrifying sounds.

"Hell..." Molly refused this idea, but the more she refused, the more it made sense. "There is no afterlife, Sir Asher." She shook her head, the wind blowing her black hair in her face. It was impossible to see Molly's expression from Asher's point of view.

"This is it, ma petite." He tried to glance at her face briefly, but she had angled her head so he couldn't. Clever girl.

Molly stayed silent, letting this information settle. She was in hell. Damnation for all eternity. But then... Why were they walking? There had to be a way out, however dangerous it may be. By the time she spoke again, Molly had accepted her fate. Her mother had been wrong. If Helen was wrong, then surely she might be here. Molly dreaded this fact the most.

"Sir Asher... We are being followed." Again, she had caught a whiff of them before she actually saw them.

"I know. We've been followed ever since we began. Right now, they are only following. If they push any closer, I will have to fight."

Behind the odd couple, twenty or so decaying creatures trailed. Their hissing had been masked by the billows of wind. Molly wanted to run. However, now that she thought about it, running is probably what provoked them to attack her. Hindsight was 20/20.

Molly unconsciously scooted closer to Asher. She never asked where they were going, only glanced back every once in awhile to the growing mass of snarling undead.

They were within viewing distance of The Gate. It was a huge barrier, the last hope for the other four levels of Hell, in case the Styx was ever breached.

"Sir Asher, is this The Gate?" Molly asked, looking up at the doors they had finally come to.

Odd... He didn't remember telling her about this. "Yes, Molly."

"Then how do we keep them from following us?" Molly pointed her small finger at the considerably larger group who were closing in around them.

[Jack]

(Onizuka)
"In times past, we wouldn't have to, ma petite," Asher said quietly. "But it appears that the lord of this Hell has been unseated." His thoughts flashed back to Onizuka, whom he'd attempted to best on an almost annual basis. The brooding tiger lord had always killed him, however, despite Asher's apparent immunity to the man's powers.

The level was in shambles, littered with bodies and rubble. What had once been the makings of a bridge had collapsed into the river, and the dead wandered about freely.

Molly looked troubled. "What do we do?"

Asher smiled faintly and crouched down beside her, taking her hand. "What would you like to do, little Molly?" He locked his eye on hers, making her uncomfortable.

"I want to run away," she said calmly, standing with patience as the zombies stumbled closer.

"Run away? You'll run away from them? What cruel generators or sub-generators of your people have instilled such timidity? Do your kind generate courage and compassion as well, ma petite?"

"No." She said bluntly, blinking back at Asher in confusion.

He took his dry hand and gently turned her chin to the approaching mob. "Can you see them, my dear? They want to hurt you. They hunger and lust for your pain like you can't possibly understand. You have more life in you then I've ever felt, almost as if you've been bred for it. They want to take it from you, Molly."

She twisted out of Asher's grip and tried to pull away. "I want to run away now," she said fitfully, panic and confusion rising in her as the shadows of the dead fell across them.

"Kill them, Molly. Kill all of them. Don't let them hurt you." He held her wrist in his cold grip until the horde had surrounded them, and her eyes danced from face to approaching dead face. Her insides froze and she felt on the verge of bursting into tears again. Thin grey hands, bleeding and festering with rot, stretched out to her from every direction. As Molly began to scream, Asher smiled.

Somehow, the corruption of one innocent girl would be more satisfying then the fall of all the lords of Hell. Asher let go of Molly's wrist, just as the corpses fell upon them, laughing madly in their dead and pallid faces.

[Jack]

(Serena)
[NRP] Sorry this is a kinda late post, but yeah i'm back now. I just hope it's good.

Serena stood, glaring down into the once flaming woods of suicides, now in dust and ashes. Sheathing her sword, Serena swiftly flew down examing the area closely, searching for anything left behind by her metallic foe.

It was so silent, a pin could be heard being dropped a mile away. Nothing was heard except for the buckles on Serena's boots, Clinking together after each ste
[continued p she took. On the ground lay ashes and soot as black as the skies. Bodies of the once fearsome harpies lied motionless and dead, circling around the bare, blood ridden trees.


Three harpies flew above her. Each held a ripped body part. Their sharp teeth sunk deep into the flesh of the arms and legs of the surviving dead bodies that once hung apon the trees. Their faces corvered with blood and ash, and their dark midnight purple wings turned black from all the soot. They stared, hungrily and yerning for blood.

With one swift swipe of her hand, Serena pulled out her gleaming angelic blade and turned glaring at the Harpies that flew above. Their soot feathers blended with the sky, flapping their wings wildly. With a deafing Screech, they charged down towards Serena, dropping the body parts and exposing there sharp glowing teeth. A grin formed on Serena's face, as she began to rise with anticipation.

Serena tightened her grip around the hilt of her blade, her feet spread apart, standing ready and alert. As soon as the harpies had reached Serena's range, with a flick of her wrist, Serena's angelic blade came into a vertical slash, cutting the head off each harpie in one swift attack. They headless bodies fell lifeless on the ground before Serena, as they human shaped heads fell behind her.

With the egde of her cloak Serena cleaned her blade and sheathed it. It became quiet once again. Serena unfolded her wings and slowly lifted herself into the air. Once again Serena looked down apon the dead lifeless woods, and sighed. Serena folded her heads and said a quick prayer, turning away, Serena flew off in search of her way out of hell, and back into heaven.


[continued in sixth level]

[Jack]

(Onizuka)
All around her, they were biting, ripping, gnashing rotten teeth into her soft skin. Molly's fear and sense of loss overtook her, she was pulled into the mob of frenzied corpses without so much as a whisper, her eyes frozen unblinkingly and her pale skin trembling only slightly. Pain threw her into senselessness as her own blood spilled across her face, blinding her. There was a slight crunch as one of the dead managed to the bone of her slender wrist, snapping it. The genesis opened her mouth and silently screamed, the sound of her own tearing flesh and the grunts of her vicious new friends the only noises produced. The last thoughts flitting through her mind before she lost conciousness were, So it really is Hell..

Nearby, one of the undead took a moment and savored the moment. She was taken silently, too terrified to scream.. Asher focused the whole of his attention on the flickering spark of life smothered beneath the group of dead, the blood spattered bit of dress he could see trailing along one pale little leg. He frowned. Something therein is not at rights. By the time the revelation hit him, it was nearly to late to act upon it. Asher threw himself clear of his own body, draining out of his ancient and rotted form and pouring across the backs of the dead, whirling in anger and driving them back. Forgotten, the Hortan Prince turned an ashen grey, muscles and matter disintegrating, the flesh upon it drying to dust before caking off the sickly yellowed bones in rotten clumps. Asher's body fell over, bones scattering midfall, and the perfect blue eye glowed coldly from his naked skull for a moment before extinguishing with a curling whisp of smoke that rolled out the eye socket and into the still air.

The dead hissed and scattered back to their meal warily, caring only for the percieved satisfaction the taste of human flesh promised. Just as the first hideous corpse was sinking teeth into the girl's shoulder, however, it found itself flung through the air, flailing, bones snapped and broken through the withered skin. With a startling jerk Molly sat upright, smeared liberally with blood, hair tousled, dress torn. A tall, wide-shouldered zombie, ribcage exposed and much of it's face torn away from a previous scrap, pounced at the genesis - receiving a telekinetic snap that broke his spine and folded him over backwards. The other denizens of the Styx snarled and began to retreat, but Molly hadn't quite had her fill. One scrambling across the mud on it's haunches found itself pressed flat, shrieking and twitching violently. Another was knocked off it's feet and sent sprawling, where it clambered away, trailing a useless leg.

The young girl stood staring after them blankly, one of her eyes a seething artic blue. "Are-Are they gone, sir Asher?" she said weakly, looking about in confusion. She shivered suddenly and hugged herself tightly.

Oh yes, cherie. I've sent them all away.

She turned slightly, her wide eyes flicking about. "W-where have you gone?"

I am nearby.

Molly spun but could find him nowhere. Several corpses were strewn about, in various stages of decomposition, though that meant little as to how animate they were here. She didn't hurt anywhere anymore, and she realized as she ran her hands over her arms that there were no bites, no missing hunks of little girl. Just thick, wet blood, all over her, staining the holes torn in her dress and plastering her hair messily across her forehead.

You're unharmed, my dear. It was all just a dream, no a nightmare, that we will wake from together. Were you.. aware.. that you had no soul, ma petite?

Her voice choked and she filled with fear again, fear that her unseen ally would leave her by herself in this horrible world. "I'm a genesis," she admitted. "Not a real girl."

There was a moment of silence and she thought for a second that she was in fact alone, as Asher raked his presence through her thoughts and memories to understand what she meant by 'genesis'. Just as she was going to call out to him, he returned, comforting and soothing but at the same time completely intangible.

Do not fret, ma petite. I will be your soul. No harm shall come to you.

As one they turned, Molly's mismatched eyes scanning the nearby riverbank for more of the creatures. She did feel safer. Stronger, even. In the sense that she would be able to face the challenges ahead of her. Because she wouldn't be facing them alone. Her right eye swirled and danced a melancholy blue haze as she brushed her hair back and straightened her ragged dress as she could. "Will I be able to see you, Sir Asher?"

He concentrated, and the reflection of his previous form blossomed coldly into her blue eye. She blinked and stared at him curiously, his ghostly form there and simeltaneously not there somehow, the image in one of her eyes and not the other, lacking depth and reality. His ghostly form beckoned, waving a hand towards the nearby gate. Come, the gate is near.. Molly tried to focus in on where his voice was coming from, and how she was recieving it, but Asher gathered the thoughts as they appeared and scattered them. Come, Molly. We should leave. The depthless vision of Asher beckoned again, and she followed, prompted in part by the distant cries of the dead echoing across the Styx.

NRP: Cynric isn't the only free vessel for vagabond souls and such to break free of Hell, Molly will do nicely.

[Jack]

(Genesis)
When Molly closed her eyes which were wet with tears, she drifted to that quiet place in her mind where she would go when times were tough. Even before things went to hell, in the most accurate sense, she would come to this place and think things out. Only this time, she wasn't alone. This place was somewhere between sleep and dreaming, made out of whatever fueled Molly's massive imagination. Nothing was ever really vivid until she actually was dreaming, and in this state of mind, things were tangible, but not defined.

Asher manifested himself as the body of which he had given up to complete the genesis. In that safe haven of her mind, he met her there. To the right of them was a solid door, many times the relative height of Asher. Other than that, everything was a hazy gray color, indefinant and uncertain.

"Sir Asher," Molly spoke stronger than he had ever heard her before, but that would make sense since this place was generated by her imagination. "Where are we going?" Her dirty rag of a dress was now clean and starch white, the black ribbon around her waist tied in a neat little bow. Her shoes were polished. Even her hair looked brushed, untangled and dry. But this was her mind's manifestation. The physical Molly was caked with grit, covered liberally with blood, down one shoe, soaked to the bone, and was shuddering in the cradle of giant arms that could crush her at will.

"We are getting out, cherie. Away from those awful creatures that tried to hurt you." He knelt down, noticing that he was complete and his skin was a healthy color.

"I's sorry I didn't listen to you, but I don't think this man would hurt us, or he would have already."

"It's alright. He may yet keep the last of the creatures away." There was a silence, and the closest thing to a worried look Asher could muster drifted across his face. "But something is wrong, ma petite. We should have come in contact with more souls, more guards to keep us from breaching the gates. Something. Anything. All I have seen are remains of what used to be. I do not have all the answers myself, but what may come, we will meet." It was the first time Asher had actually spoke of them as a team working together."And do not trust this man, nor anyone in this place. He is an asset to us. Nothing more. Do you understand?" That bright blue eye shot coldness that it sometimes did, as if it, too, had a soul of its own.

Meanwhile, Aurec was besting the rain, trudging through the gate of the third level. The rain worsened, creating a cacophony on his chestplate and helmet. He stepped into a level of nothing but rain, mud, and death. He could not stand still long, however. Someone would be sure to notice his large build, even in rain this heavy. There was no one in sight, thankfully. No angels or demons, just the welcoming crack of thunder. Nothing to challenge him or put him in a compromising situation between himself or the fragile, defenseless child, presumably still sleeping on his shoulder.

God, I gotta get through this quickly, he said silently not so much as a prayer as it was an order to himself.

Asher had noticed the door immediately, for it was the only thing defined in her "room". He walked to it, and noticed that it had no handle.

"You have to push it open, Sir Asher." Asher moved back and motioned towards the door, indicating that she should show him how."Oh no... I don't want to. You made me once before." A crack of thunder shook the entire place and then she was gone, leaving him with the mystery of the door and her last words. The room had dissapeared and he was looking from her eye yet again, in the empty spot where her soul should have been.

Molly awoke at the thundercrash and with the awakening she was ripped from her safe "room". She took immediate notice of the huge battle ax, with a vivid spray of possible outcomes of the blade in the matter of a moment. Aurec took notice of her different breathing patterns. "Did you rest well?" His voice was heard easily.

She stretched a little and he adjusted her in his arms. "Yes" she shouted over the static of the rain. It was a different level, but it was still the same as the last; empty. If this was hell, where did the rest of it go?

They moved on miserably, two grim figures fighting the cold of the storm. It let up a little, giving them better visibility. The gate wasn't too far now, and Aurec was surprised they were making such good timing. He thought that they probably wouldn't even have to rest at this rate. He spoke too soon, for Molly's stomach growled and he felt her belly tremble. What on earth do little girls eat in hell, he thought, as if such places made little girls an entirely different species. But they couldn't, wouldn't stop in this level, and he doubted they would stop in the next.

He was back in this Wasteland again, and he hated the level. Always caused some pain of a problem, like a katana in one's neck. The gate was now in sight. Home free... for now. The real storm was brewing up ahead.

[Jack]

Awake now, Molly wanted to walk for a bit on her own. She shifted a bit awkwardly in Aurec's enormous arms, expecting him to understand her and set her down. "Can you let me down?"

The giant didn't relinquish his grip, however, only nodding down towards the ground. This level of Hell, which at first glance had seemed so very empty, was in fact flooded. The countless circlets of raindrops speckled beautitfully across the uneven surface of the water, and it took her a moment to realize what the shapes were that were breaking above the surface. As BioDiesel sloshed through the maledict, a broken heap of dead animal stared blankly, jaw gaping lifelessly. Blood stained the creature's fur, and tinted the already murky water it lay in. The eight year old girl looked up grimly and recognized the hundreds of other dead animals littered about the pools of water for what they were. An undecipherable look crossed her face as beads of rainwater rolled down her forehead, her dark bangs clinging wetly to her face. She was content to stay in his arms for the duration of the maledict, though. Molly didn't like water when she couldn't see the bottom. The giant man frowned, and turned his attention back to the ground before his feet. Was hopin' she'd sleep through all of this.. he thought, sighing to himself.

Seeming to anticipate his sigh, Molly looked back up at him. "Are the bad angels still here?"

Aurec paused for a moment, before chuckling to himself and trudging on. He looked down at the little girl he held in his arms. "And how did you know about them?"

"You were thinking about them."

BioDiesel refused to be surprised, in light of the events of the past several weeks. "Well, that's a straightforward enough answer," he grumbled in his deep, almost fatherly tone. "I think if they were here, we woulda seen 'em by now."

Deep in his mind, he somehow suspected everyone to look at him in shock and horror, still remembered people who had disputed his very existence. Now all the 'normal' people had died, leaving behind the outcasts of their society, those so strong or so blatantly different from normal humans that they'd managed to survive the Separation and the chaos that followed. The preconception of what was normal and what was not lived on, however, and BioDiesel found that the more people he'd met since, the more he'd felt a part of something. Felt accepted, not just tolerated. He looked back at Molly, her ragged dress taking on more neutral tones as it was soaked by the rainfall. "You know, you're pretty heavy."

She blinked at him with her mismatched eyes. "I am not." There wasn't a trace of indignance, just simple fact. She peered back down at the slough below in morbid fascination as they waded past the dead hell hounds and wolves.

"If you say so. But when I take my break, you're carryin' me the rest of the way."

"Not gonna!" she protested.

They trudged through the marshy water in silence for a while, the numbing rain making them feel a bit distant. Asher maintained his silence, still trying to piece together the disturbing puzzle hell had become. It was a place of punishment, of suffering and despair, he could scarecly fathom how a war could obliterate so much of Hell's populace. It seemed odd that there were so many dead hell hounds and wolves of Plutus' in this particular level. If they'd fought, then where stood the victor? These barren plains of swamp were empty...weren't they?

A screeching, piercing cry froze them in their footsteps, a cry in a pitch so sharp that the very wet air seemed to part like flesh beneath a blade. A great winged beast, a towering vulture, swept down from the dark cloud above and worried the air above them. The black feathers glistened darkly with blood, and all along it's shape the muscles and tendons seem to have sunken in, making the cadaverous skeletal frame visibly apparent. The creature that had been Tenia leaned forward, hooked beak flanked by the swirling vortexes of his eyes. Aurec shuddered, having been on the recieving end of this monster's wrath before. The vulture lord towered over even him, but the slowly tumbling blurs of light that were Tenia's eyes were now vacant of the cunning intelligence that had driven him before. Raw, undiluted hunger radiated from those eyes, a need so pure and base that it had reduced a lord of Hell into a slave. The unquenchable desire to fulfill his master's commands.

"Lord of hell, gluttony, and rain,
living again by whom it had slain.
Sees all save that which it seeks;
Lady in light and darkness unique."

Those twin pools of light were fixed upon Molly now, cradled protectively in Aurec's arms. The genesis trembled in the face of the monstrosity, hugging her tiny arms about BioDiesel's neck and burying her face against his armor. Thought drained out of the cybernetic giant, for he could neither attack the beast while holding the girl nor set her down where she would be vulnerable. The unreadable blurs of light seemed to darken and narrow for a moment, as though seeing through them. The little girl's molten blue eye swallowed the vulture's vision, and in a hypnotic moment of uncertainty, the giant man and the little girl dissappeared. In their place stood a dead man in ancient old armor and rags, staring back at Tenia with one swirling cobalt eye. This was certainly not the demoness will drinker he sought. With a bone-chilling screech the enormous bird canted it's head upon it's crooked neck, darting about in different directions. With a last belated cry, the vulture lifted into the air again upon it's dark wings, leaving a host of unanswerable questions in it's wake.

The next gate already in site, BioDiesel couldn't afford to chance that the beast wouldn't reconsider his potential meal, especially with the young charge he carried. The giant dashed through the water, armor clanking, and into the muddy delta that sat before the iron portal, kicking up dark sprays of muck to speckle his armor. Without a glance back the trio left the third level of Hell for drier grounds.