Chapter Text
A shadow slithered through the dark recesses of Hell. Demons of various types, sizes and status levels went about their business, ignoring the independently moving shadow. This was not the strangest thing any of them would see that day.
Bugs crawled across the damp, rotten floorboards that were barely holding together. The stench of death hung in the thick smog they called air. The shadow continued slithering and skulking from level to level. The shadows slid down the chipped, pealing walls that were filled with cracks and holes
It shot past multiple staircases, all with no bannisters and some missing steps. Once it reached the bottom of the stairs, it skittered across the creaky floors, past the inhabitantss of Hell.
The shadow veered to the side, squeezing through cracks and crevices embedded in the wall of a corridor. The shadow whirled around one final staircase, dropped through another crevice and stopped.
A demon emerged from the shadows. Vlast was a tall man who appeared to be in his early 30s but was actually 453. Short, curved horns protruded from his brown buzzcut. “See, I told you shadow travel is faster then teleportation.” The shadowy darkness surrounding him matched the colour of his oval eyes which stood out on his pale skin covered in dark, broken veins.
Another demon, Mog appeared, slamming into him. She kicked him to the groin. She had light grey skin spotted with patches of dog-like fur. Large black horns protruded from her scalp. “Maybe but I still got what I wanted when you challenged me to this stupid game.” She kicked him in the shins while he was down with her black Doc Martin boot.
He didn’t even flinch. He simply got to his feet and dusted down his short black hot pants. “Maybe but I still won. Which means…”
“I do your paperwork for 8 months. Yeah, yeah, I know. Why’d we agree to such a short timespan again?” They were immortal beings who were centuries old, they had infinite amounts of time. She placed her hands on her hips. Her black, poofy sleeves billowed.
“First one I could think of.” He also knew that if he picked anything longer, she would impale him on her mobility cane that was made of spikes.
“Whatever, man. Let’s get out of here.” Mog looked around at the surrounding. She could feel the soft mud under her boots. From the limited amount she could see, they were in the lowest part of Hell.
There was a riverbank near them. Instead of being filled with water, it was filled with murky, dark ooze that looked almost identical to the mud on the bank. No lifeforms lived within the river. The waves of ooze flowed effortlessly. On the other side of the river, she could just make out a large, gnarled tree.
“Race –,“ before Vlast could continue, she’d already disappeared. “Bitch.” He muttered. He rubbed the flaming pentagram tattoos on his left arm and sunk back into the shadows.
Mog reappeared in her department. The Demon Records Department was a huge, sprawling archive. There were three floors above ground with one stashed beneath the ground floor. That could only be accessed by a hole in the middle of the floor that was usually concealed beneath a rug.
Each floor consisted of shelves and shelves of boxes containing books, files, binders and in some cases, loose documents. Each demon in Hell had a file dedicated to them. There were high and low tables, benches, counters, seats, chairs and nooks dotted around the archive.
There was no chance of any natural lighting getting in as there were no windows. A sliding door led to a balcony that extended from the second floor with a view of Hell.
“Should we call that a draw?” Mog asked.
“Nope,” Vlast replied. He whacked her on the arm, hitting off one of her fur patches. She flinched. “Now pay up.”
“Ugh fine.” A binder telekinetically flew into her grasp, and she set it on the round table on the ground floor that was the main table used for paperwork.
Mog sat down and opened the chunky binder. It was notes on a demon who had been involved in the Spanish Inquisition among other things. Which were not limited to but included: the Anglo-Boer War, Disco Craze, Suppression of Suffragettes, the Fiery Riots of Blues vs Greens in Constantinople, the and involvement in the Counter-Revolution.
All this information needed to be put in chronological order and put in its proper place. She smoothed the battered, crumple documents out. She pushed her ski goggles down over her red eyes. She flipped her waist length, straight black hair streaked with red over her shoulders. She balanced her mobility cane on the knee pads she wore over her black trousers.
The door was thrown open. “Courtesy is lost in the 21st century.” Ore’s echoey voice declared. He was a millennia old demon who had lost any obvious trace of humanity. Hair covered his scorched, red skin that was hot to anyone who dared touch it. He had hooves where his feet should be. Gnarled, cracked nails extended from his wrists, above his shirt sleeves. He towered over the other younger demons at over 8 feet tall.
“Ok... How does that relate to anything?” Vlast asked. He leaned against a wall, his hands in his pockets. He raised his eyebrows at Ore.
The vacant hole where Ore’s nose should be flared. “Someone took my lava mug. I’m over a millennia old, I like my system. I like that mug and anyone who fucks with my system should RUN.”
“You mean this mug?” Vlast pointed to the one sitting on the nook at the other side of the archive.
Ore jumped across the room and landed in front of the nook. He grabbed the mug. “My guess was either one of you took it or someonemoved it from where I left it.”
“Second one.” The two other demons said in unison.
“Well then, I’m going to find them and make their nightmares come true.” Ore jumped again, landing at the door. He left without another word, slamming the door behind him.
“Have fun!” Vlast yelled after him.
“You have any plans or are you just gonna linger?” Mog asked. She began putting the documents back together. She could feel his presence behind her and it was starting to unnerve her as she tried to complete the task. Of course, she wasn’t admitting that last part.
“As a matter of fact, I do have plans. I didn’t just ask you to do this for the lols.” Vlast didn’t elaborate. He pulled back the rug and retreated into the shadows.
Mog noticed something, there was a piece of information missing on how many humans were initially killed in the Inquisition and how much demonic interference it had required. There was also a large gap in between the late 1500s and the early 1900s.
She closed her eyes and gathered the energy required to teleport that distance. When she open them again, she was standing in front of a stone wall. “Not what I was expecting.” She muttered. Dead flowers wilted on the wall next to her. Mog stood still, listening intently to the screams that echoed from the abyss the rocky cliff she was standing on towered over.
She didn’t dare move in case she lost her footing and fell. A demon, Harph walked forward, lowering the hood on his black robe. Feathers extended from his beaked, face with heavily defined cheekbones. The rest of his bones were just as protruding. “What do you want, Mog?”
“I have a question. It says in this report that you started the war after the first Spanish inquisition in the year 1592. I need you to tell me about how much interference you needed to do before the humans started fighting? On percentage level.”
Harph thought for a moment. “66%.”
“How many died as a direct result of your interference?”
“7,630 and a half. The half was heavily injured.”
“Ok. And how much support did you give to the concentration camps the Boer women were forced into?”
“None. The humans did that themselves.”
“Of course they did. And one more thing, why is there such a big gap between the 1500s and 1900s?”
“I have enough to be getting on with down here. I don’t need to concern myself with petty human matters, most of the time. Is that everything?”
“Yeah.” Mog looked around, her eyes landing on the wall with the dead flowers. She took a moment to appreciate them while the energy she needed built back up. Dead flowers were her favourite kind, if she had to pick. She disappeared, not wishing to spend another second in this guy’s presence.
Mog entered the records department. Tamar and Ren, who also worked in the record department were having a conversation on the second floor. Tamar nudged Ren when she noticed the other demon enter. Mog rolled her eyes and teleported up to the two women.
Tamar’s massive black and sharp butterfly wings beat gently as they peeked through the back of her long, black jacket. Her short skirt revealed how toned her legs were. She was the taller of the two with brown skin, bright red eyes and layered brown hair streaked with green. “We need to ask you something.” She said, getting right to the point.
“You only have to answer if you want to,” Ren said in her usual quiet, gentle voice. She was skinnier and smaller than most demons, but still stood her ground. Her eyes pulsed white, standing out in her light brown skin. Long dark braids hung down to her pointy elbows. “Honey, do you want to take the lead?” She nudged Tamar on the arm.
“Honey?” Mog raised her eyebrows. Vlast owed her a piece of bone from a demon’s ankle that was being stored in a vault that was inaccessible to her. She didn’t know or care about who it belonged to, just that their bones had been fished out of a pool of Holy Water somewhere.
The ankle bone was going to make a great bracelet and Vlast knew how much she wanted it. She shook her head, her skull earrings that dangled from her horns jangling as she did. That wasn’t important right now. “So, what do you want to know?”