Achieving Heaven Through Hell Part 3: Only the Results

Chapter 25: Self

Chapter 25: Self

Ducal soldiers stood at the ready, all clad in demonic hazmat suits, awaiting the moment the sensors registered lowered levels of purifying energies. Each one glanced down at their sensors as the needles of their instruments abruptly snapped down to zero. The heavy blast-door bent inward, glowing red, then orange, then white all in an instant before it was sent smashing down the hallway by a surge of yellow lightning. Purified air rushed in, flickering and hissing as it reacted with the Hellish atmosphere as a tall, armored figure strode in, heedless of the corrosive atmosphere surrounding them, the holy energy kept at bay by their awesome demonic might.

"Captain Gallia?" Croaked one of the soldiers as the figure strode by. "A-are you alright?"

Captain Gallia paid no attention to the question, instead roughly shoving a small, metallic apple into the soldier's hands. "Get this to the lab."

She set off down the hall, beckoning the soldiers followed her. "All of you, arm yourselves and meet me in the courtyard."

"Captain, what's going on?"

She cocked her ear at his voice, recognizing it even through the bulky hazmat suit. "Hircus."

"Yes, sir?"

She grabbed him by the collar and hauled him in close, her voice a whispered hiss. "Where. Is. The Rapture?"

Gallia stormed down the hallway, part of her was proud, excited at how much more powerful she'd become since entering her Duke's–Sallos'–service. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had to merely survive the rogue artifact, and something more to tame it. But even her vast well of demonic power had its limits, and that limit had been reached sometime before she'd contained the shard.

She was exhausted.

She still had work to do, and for that, she needed... a pick-me-up.

Gallia approached the door to the lesser contraband locker, while not a vault like the Duke's personal locker, it was still a heavily secured affair, with entry allowed only through a time-consuming security screening process.

Fuck that.

The heavy, blessed steel door smashed into the far side of the locker with the force of a freight train. The spiky, armored demon marched and looked around at the endless cabinets and lockers. "Seir Locus."

Her eyes lit up pink with the Great Prince's power, she felt herself drawn to a specific steel cabinet, a faring energy outlining it as though it glowed from within. The flimsy steel offered no resistance and the lock snapped like a pretzel before her might. Within were rows upon rows of the containers, with various cartoon fruit on each one announcing the flavor of their contents.

'Orange is their best flavor,' the imp had said, her mouth watering to taste the awful, plasticky 'orange' flavoring, at once pungently bitter and revoltingly sweet. She craved it.

She grabbed the container of orange Rapture, snapping off the safety cap with a thumb and carelessly shaking out a half dozen of the lozenges. A moment's hesitation took hold, what was she doing? This was contraband! Dangerous, hideously addictive contraband of mysterious origins. Part of her snarled that she should just fight through the fatigue, that even depleted to such a degree, those vulgarian upstarts would be no match for her. Gallia's hand trembled, a tic pulling at the side of her face as her beige skin grew slick with sweat. With a snarl, she quaffed the pills, chewing openly like an animal, the glowing orange slime within dripping down her chin. She swallowed and stooped over, panting as she waited for it to take hold.