Under the Cover of Darkness

Chapter 24 - The Contract

When Bryce and Jax appeared through the portal, the resounding echo of cheers filled the hall. Grotesque creatures of all shapes and sizes proclaimed their excitement as the foundation of the building shook from their roars. Their messages incomprehensible, the monstrous beings, both large and small, jumped up and down trying to catch sight of the returning criminal.

In the same position he left earth in, on a heightened stage in the middle of the room, the shackled Bryce slowly peered across the sea of demons and the brightly-lit room with disappointment, disappointment in himself.

The dark red coloring of Hell's walls were indistinguishable. The roars of disgusting creatures. The hopelessness. The solitude. The resentment. It was all too familiar to Bryce, his vision beginning to blur.

"I've always hated the color red," Bryce muttered to himself as the yells of the crowd became irrelevant. Weak and defeated, Bryce gave in to the pressure, the emotionless flurry. His heart began to pound as the mob mentality overwhelmed him; however, the excitement and furry was directed at himself, confusing his delirious mind.

The sight of demons dressed in glossy, dark brown armor appeared in his peripheral vision. He lowered his head towards the ground staring blankly into his hopeless future. There was no escape as he accepted his fate and allowed the guards to close in on him.

He felt the warmth of two burly hands wrap around his arms, lifting him up to his feet, but kept their tight grasp on the imprisoned demon. The sound of his shackles followed suit as they thudded onto the wooden stage, freeing him from his temporary, physical prison.

Suddenly, in his downwards glare was the reflection of his face in the well-shined, golden boots of a figure. Then, Bryce felt another hand cusp his chin, slowly pulling it upwards so that his eyes would meet the eyes of the guard. Bending over in order to match Bryce's stare a foot from his face, the demon smiled at the hopelessness in his face. Behind the golden metal helmet was a set of eyeballs that Bryce, in his deteriorated and dizzied state, failed to match with anyone from his past.

"Welcome back to Hell, Bryce," he whispered into Bryce's ear. "We've been waiting."

There was no response from the prisoner as his breathing had slowed, and he focused on pushing the pain to the side. His eyes opened and closed slowly while his head began to shake from side-to-side. He could feel himself losing consciousness, but this was Hell. There would be no end, no reprieve.

"Your not even gonna say hello?" the figure pondered out loud, much to the approval of the rambunctious crowd.

The figure took his hand from Bryce's chin, and the head flopped down. Playing to the crowd's emotions, he belted "Well then, let us introduce ourselves then, shall we."

A thunderous cheer broke out as the prospect of relevance and participation filled every demon in attendance's body with exhilaration. At that moment, they all realized what was about to happen, and they wanted to relish in the excitement, the furor, the zeal that hadn't filled their beings in centuries. However, for Bryce, he was the butt of a bad joke. A cruel realization that in that hall was judge, jury, and executioner overwhelmed him.

Turning to the audience, the gold-wearing demon proclaimed, "My brethren. He returns to us in the same pitiful state he left in, weak, cowardly, and afraid. Let us welcome back this disgraced piece of flesh with some applause."

Bryce didn't bother to look up at either his captives or the audience, their chorus of applause and cheers were enough to push his head downwards.

The figure turned back to Bryce, looking down on the defeated demon. "How are the most pathetic ones, the ones who slip away most?" he muttered.

No response.