I pried open the foil packaging of a Menu 14 Pork Sausage Patty MRE with my knife. The ambient air of Hell always tasted like sulfur, cheap ozone, and burnt copper, but the processed sodium paste inside the ration pouch managed to overwhelm all three. A rare victory for military logistics.
My ears twitched. Two sets of footsteps were approaching my corner of the hotel lounge. One set was light, multi-limbed, and shifted weight like a street-walker trying not to scuff high heels. The other was heavy, energetic, with the distinct trailing scuff of combat boots fitted with improvised explosives.
Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb.
I didn't bother looking up from my vacuum-sealed cracker. I knew the moment they crossed the threshold because my nose caught the cloying stench of cheap strawberry perfume, cheap cocaine, and nitro-methane. Up to no good. Always up to no good.
I chewed. I decided to bite, literally and metaphorically.
I swallowed the dry cracker mass.
Y/N: If you're here to ask for the hot sauce, it's already gone.
Cherri: Oh, come on, big guy! We're not here for your depressing military rations.
Angel: Yeah, honey. We're here to talk about your image. Your brand! It's practically in the gutter.
Y/N: My brand is bullet holes and high body counts. It's performing at peak efficiency.
Angel: Honey, please. Everyone in this burning dumpster of a realm is shitting their silk panties whenever you walk down the street. They think you're the literal Grim Reaper coming to reap their miserable little souls!
Cherri: It's terrible for your social life, Harbinger! People see you and run the other way. We want to help you fix it. Improve your reputation! Make you accessible!
Y/N: I like people being afraid of me. It saves time. If they're running away, I don't have to waste lead blowing their heads off. Besides, the reputation is well deserved.
Cherri: Is it, though? What about yesterday?
Y/N: What about yesterday?
Cherri: You marched straight into Valentino's auction, slapped three overseers into red paste, and freed a whole room full of sex slaves! You didn't even take a bounty for it! You weren't assigned to it!
Angel: Yeah, big boy! You did it out of the goodness of your cold, dead, scarred-up little heart. You're a softie underneath all that... that!
Y/N: I did it because their music was too loud and it was vibrating my jawline while I was trying to sleep. The liberation was a side effect of my noise complaint.
Cherri: Liar! You're a hero! And hero needs good PR!
Y/N: Fine. What's your grand plan to fix my reputation?
Angel: Simple! A porn shoot!
I paused, my spoon hovering an inch above the reconstituted pork patty. My senses picked up the subtle micro-tremors in Angel's posture. He was serious. They were both entirely serious.
Y/N: But of course. A porn shoot. Naturally. The logical progression of counter-insurgency tactics.
Cherri: See?! I told you he'd get it! He's totally down!
Angel: Oh, I knew you had a filthy side, big boy! I can already see the marquee lights!
Y/N: That is, without a doubt, the single most profoundly idiotic concept I have ever heard in my entire existence. And I'm older than everyone in this hotel combined.
YOU ARE READING
Madness: DxD
FantasíaWe are taught that strength is what keeps us alive. So he became strong. Strong enough to endure the battlefield. Strong enough to command men into hell and lead them back out. Strong enough to win a war that should have destroyed him. They called h...
