Heaven And Hell Bond

Pondering In Prison

Striker was in his solitary confinement cell in the most tightly secured prison in all of Hell: Tartarus Maximum Penitentiary. This place was home to the worst of the worst criminals in all of Hell. Those who have committed the worst of the worst crimes such as killing children or babies or royal demons, or the most adored kind of demons that everyone loves. Not only demons who created the most evil sins, but it was home to some people in history that were the most vile, cruel, and evil human beings.

Yes, Tarturus housed Hitler, Stalin, Zedong, Vlad the Impaler, Idi Amin, Kim Il Sung, Robert Mugabe, Mobutu Seko and many more cruel and malicious dictators in the history of mankind. These people all endure many kinds of torture and unspeakable things they had forced upon their subjects that they had ruled over with an iron fist.

One kind of torture was thrown and being cooked alive in furnaces, similar to how the monstrous Hitler would cook Jews during the Holocaust. Another kind of unspeakable torture would be these evil former leaders being flawed all over, very slowly and endlessly. The worst part of the flaying (for them) was; their skin and guts would grow back to the way they were, similar to Prometheus and the vultures from Greek Mythology so that these former humans could endeavor that kind of pain every day.

Not only were these vile humans held inside the ADX of Hell, but in his solitary confinement cell, Striker was sitting and playing with his forked tail, sulking in his defeat. He was so close to regaining his glory, if not for those infernal IMP demons fucking everything up for him. There was barely nothing in his cell except for a toilet, and a stone bed... with spikes on it! This prison was enough to make ADX look like a theme park.

Striker's guns were, of course, confiscated by the police and he felt naked without those pistols. All he can think of was: revenge on Immediate Murder Professionals, and ways to make them suffer and cry dearly. He didn't even care about how he would even make them suffer anymore, and little did he know that; this would make him spiral more into insanity with all the losses he had endeavored in his career as a mercenary. The more he was in this cell, the more insane he was slowly becoming.

A prison guard brought in a plate full of yucky rice and a stale biscuit next to the rice. "Hey hick, here's your lunch. Eat up and enjoy." he said ain a demonic, gruff voice. "I suggest you eat now, or the corn is gonna be rotten."

"Heh, like the lunch isn't bad enough already, shithead?" Striker retorted in a snarky voice. "Yeah, keep your feces you call 'food'. I'm not hungry one bit."

The prison guard gave a "whatever" face and took the food away. "Good luck starving to death." he said.

Striker just gave a "Hmph" sound as he crossed his arms. He was too focused on revenge to even think about food. He heard more footsteps, and made a growl. Clearly he was not accepting any visitors at this time. "Look, i just want to talk to him." said a British voice that the mercenary recognized too well. He perked his head up with his eyes bloodshot. The serpentine imp looked over to where the voice came from on the other side of the door, and stood up.

"Look, lord Stolas," said another prison guard, "he tried to kill you and if you go in there, he might-"

"I know what he is capable of." Stolas sounded firm. "Which is why you are going to use his own rope to restrain him like a straightjacket."

"Ah, good thinking." said the brute. He came in the solitary cell and lassoed Striker, who tried to evade it, but was stopped by Stolas halting him like telekinetically holding him in place with his eyes, minus turning him to stone.

"What the fuck have you done to me, you fucking blue blood!?" Striker demanded as he was struggling to move.

"Simple, i paralyzed you." the Goetia prince stated flatly. "I want to talk you, if you would please."

"Well," Striker had an amused look on his snake-like face. "a royal blue blood like yerself, coming to talk with the common folk. This should be interesting."

The royal owl demon sat next to him on the floor, and asked: "What is your problem with me and my family?"

"Like you don't know, pussy?" Striker said. "You fucking blue bloods are all the fucking same! Always looking down on us and thinking you are better than every one of us just because of your money. Well we imps can be just as good as you Goetia fucks."

Stolas was silent for a moment and said: "And yet you accepted my own ex-wife's offer to kill me on the spot. Clearly, that is working for a 'blue blood' as you would describe."

Striker just let out a growl and said: "That's different!" in an abrupt voice. "I only did it for the money, and you know what they say: Money talks!"

"Look, it's not always about the money." Stolas tried to be calm again.

"What do you even want from me?" asked Striker, sounding a little impatient now.

"I just want to talk." Stolas plainly said. "I want to know why you hate us royals."

"Why? WHY?!" said Striker. "You guys are always looking down on us and always thinking you are better than all of us! You throw us aside without a second thought, like cows or livestock, and Satan knows what. Lavishing in your castles and palaces while we lower demons, as you all call us, work our asses off just to get what we want."

"You sound like a communist." Stolas plainly said.

"Pfft. I am nothing like a commie. I'm just saying we have toiled under your gem-coated boots for so long."

"Look, not all Goetias are what you think they are." Stolas sighed. "I don't think like my father."

"Bullshit." said Striker.

"Believe what you will."

"I will get out of here Stolas, and i will kill ya when the time is right. And your precious girl, too."

Stolas grabbed him by the throat, hard. "touch my Via, and you will be in for the fight of your fucking life." he then let go of Striker and the imp was gasping for breath, coughing. Standing up from the ground, Stolas then said: "Remember what I said about not all of us Goetias being snobs." Then the owl demon walked out of the solitary cell, leaving Striker to sulk in his squallied misery once more.