Chapter 7: Doubt

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Brutal, all of it was brutal. Time wearing down the mind and allowing paranoia to continue to slip through the ever growing fractures, drawing more and more worry of when the next event would occur. In addition to time itself being a complete bastard the sparing matches left the body suffering just as much as the mind. Flesh and bones torn, broken, and crushed only to be cruelly melted back together again, over and over and over on a nearly daily basis. Despite knowing the pain that would come with it you kept subjecting yourself to the agony whenever both you and he had the time. Too stubborn to show weakness, too prideful to show mercy, and the others too meek to interfere. Though Alastor batted you around as though you were nothing but a mere rag doll you kept forcing yourself up, dodging and avoiding the tricks you were familiar with and gritting fangs with each blow taken. Even when the body grew too tired or battered to continue on the mind forced it onwards, the only exception being whenever a blow to the head knocked clear thoughts and fragments of sanity away. Though it left the body battered and broken at the end of the day it somehow felt worth it, the small quips drawing smiles and the subtle comments of minuscule improvement drawing joy solely because it was he who was saying it. In a sick and twisted way, it was fun and exciting. The emotions mixing with the pain to slowly corrupt the mind, thoughts morphing enough to begin to find comfort with each bruise and scratch that came. Not enough to draw pleasure but there was enough of a presence to make each injury more and more tolerable as time passed. Despite how much the girls hated seeing the cuts and bruises there was nothing they could really do, not when you yourself kept insisting that everything was alright and that you were fine with relatively minor wounds. Still, what little progress was made was just that, little. Throwing another batch of doughnuts into the fryer thought kept wandering between work and the growing issue of the situation you were in. "The twins still haven't arrived yet, or at least the girls haven't said anything. Still, this is taking far too long. Even if I am doing better I still couldn't hope to fight, a minion or two on their own would be a pain. How am I going to go against another demon? how the hell will I be able to fair in an all out battle?" you thought to yourself. "Stop, one issue at a time. I still have time to practice, for now I just need to focus on keeping an eye out for the twins" thoughts finished. A small sigh escaping as the doughnuts were fished out of the fryer and thrown onto a drying sheet. "Remember 2 dozen glaze, 1 dozen plain chocolate liquor, and the other sugar dusted" you couldn't help but glance over at the demon that you called a boss. Oddly enough his eye caught yours, it was unlike him. "You usually never give a reminder, is this for an important client?" you asked. "I'm just makin sure ya got the order, ya don't seem like you're all there today" he said. You couldn't help but let out a small sigh as you walked over to grab the black chocolate bottle from the cabinet. "I'm just a little bit tired, that's all" you replied. "Heh, that's bullshit and we both know it. Let me guess, you're worried about making ends meet, survivin in this god forsaken place" he half laughed. "I aint about to give ya a raise, not yet anyway" he finished. Though thoughts knew that it would do little there was some desire to speak, even if the person near would never understand or even listen. "You're half right" you replied softly. "I am worried about survival, it's hard to ignore the giant timer above my head" his smirk fell as you turned back towards him. "I only have so much time to prepare but even still it feels as though everything I do is entirely useless..." darker thoughts were allowed to push through and take hold of the tongue "... I don't believe I'll survive the year." It was only when said that the realization struck, you were an inexperienced and underpowered demon working and fighting with hells overlords and royalty. Death lurked in their shadows and for the most part a single snap of the fingers would leave almost anyone dead. Doubts rose in thoughts, the extermination was one thing but surviving up to it was another. You turned your head away from Marty, for better or for worse the conversation ended with that. No questions, no sly remarks, no sympathy, the work just continued in silence.

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