AN: 1) This fic is has nothing to do with religion. 2) All warnings apply, especially the usage of strong and strange language.
1. The Demon Underlord
Yami became numb to the sound of his own breathing as his body began moving on its own accord. He forced his aching legs to move forward, constantly battling with the soft earth consuming every step he took. Nearly tripping over himself, he yanked a foot out with both hands, attempting to resist the urge to look back, but failing miserably. Three pairs of glowing eyes closed in on him and he propelled himself forward with a vigour he knew he couldn't sustain for long.
The Hell forest was dark and inconveniently damp from the Hell rain that had fallen some time during that night. He'd managed to avoid falling over completely, despite the unseen obstacles in his path. Despite the frigid Hell night, he was very warm, the leather latched to his skin becoming increasingly itchy as it soaked up his sweat.
He could hear twigs snap in their wake as they bounced along, closing in on him like a stealthy hunter within range of his prey. Any minute now, they would be right at his heels, then on him, then attacking him, then, well, actually, he wasn't sure what Hell pinecones did to demons (at least not ones this size anyways) but he was sure it couldn't be anything good.
He closed his eyes, trying to shake the negative thoughts out of his mind and he forced his exhausted body to move, to do something to save himself from the ill fate. The Hell pinecones growled, the sound so low, it would have been out of range for human ears
And, as soon as the dreadful creatures uttered their battle cry, his quivering thigh gave out on him and he met with a face full of dirt. The Hell pinecones surrounded him at once. The leader, slightly larger than its henchmen, hopped on Yami's back, its weight disproportionate to the way it looked. It grinned, displaying its full set of pointed teeth and reached out with both needled hands to hold Yami's shoulders down.
The extremely long forked tongue dance across the side of his face as it spoke, the sound a cross between a seasoned smoker and an oxygen-deprived frog, "You let it take you…"
"No, I poopokingly swear, I didn't!" The dirt rushed into Yami's mouth at that protest and he turned his head to the side, spitting out as much of the bitter substance as possible.
The lead Hell pinecone jabbed a sharp finger into the back of Yami's neck, "You have all the signs of a taken creature, demon, now confess!"
His 'no' was swiftly rewarded with a kick to his side and he briefly wondered how it was possible since they didn't have any legs. "Confesssss," The leader said again, "It had taken you and you liked it."
"I didn't – ah," Yami again as one of them yanked at his hair and the three started laughing.
"Admit itttttt."
"I. Did not." The words crawled out of Yami's throat as he tried hard to stay calm and was inching ever closer to failing, "By shaftlicking, buttslutting, ejaculaconsumatory barf, enjoy it!"
The lead Hell pinecone tapped a finger at the back of Yami's head, "Your memories say otherwise. Last chance to confess."
Yami dejectedly hid his face in the dirt, no longer caring whether any got inside his mouth or not. It wasn't fair. He was just a victim of circumstance and, despite how damnably erotic and delicious that circumstance was, it was circumstance nonetheless. A very soft circumstance. One that smelled like Febreze and baby powder. But still a frapping circumstance! Fuck that circumstance! Fuck it in its Poppin Fresh belly button!
"Last chance, demon."
Yami ground his teeth together and swallowed hard. The Hell pinecones were tricking him. But maybe he deserved it. No doubt he'd be just as disgusted with his own actions if the situation was reversed.
"Gentlemen, let's do this!"
Yami screamed.
And his eyes snapped open.
And he sat up.
On his bed.
He looked around to make sure the four walls and ceiling weren't a hallucination.
And they weren't.
He flopped back down on the silky Hell cushions, attempting to catch his breath. His head throbbed with the pounding in his chest and his pupils dilated out of synchrony. He grabbed for his favourite pillow, getting an armful of air instead and peeked over the side of his bed to find it laying too far to reach. Still in a state of shock and too lazy to crawl off, he settled with the other fifteen pillows strewn around his bed, cuddling up to whichever one he could grab.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to get back to sleep or not. After a gruelling three hours of work on Zork, Yami had hurried off to the lunchroom and gotten his slice of cake, sitting down exactly where he'd been before, except this time, with some rope and a cage. His impatience found him jabbing and rejabbing at the dessert. Nothing happened, and, after two minutes of waiting, he got out of his seat and checked under every table in the room, moving onto the underside of the refrigerator, stove and the innards of every cupboard after failing to find what he was looking for. No Hypervirgin. Subsequently, he heated the cake in the Hell microwave and placed it beside the door, fanning at it to get the scent as far from the room as possible. He intermittently poked his head outside and looked up and down the hallway, grumbling and fanning with more vigour when he saw nothing. His boss, Madame Reapbecca, happened upon his (by Hell's standards) unusual behaviour and, after spotting the rope and cage, berated him for stealing office supplies and sent him back to work, claiming an hour-long lunch break was obviously far too long for the 'indolent' demon. He'd spent the rest of his work day in a foul mood, taking it out on Zork and receiving some congratulatory pats by his coworkers for his hard work. He'd collapse onto his bed shortly after getting home, falling asleep with various plots to catch The Hypervirgin swirling in his mind.
At first, it was simply a matter of principle, but after the implications of the dream, he realised it was a life or death situation. No matter how much effort he put into burying his shame, their demon Underlord would, undoubtedly, find out sooner or later and put him through a horrific public humiliation before submitting him to an equally horrific punishment (which would probably be public as well).
Maximillion Supersatan Pegasex had won the Hell election over three thousand years ago and had never been defeated in office ever since. He prided himself on his libido and made this fact known by rejecting every female demon that (reportedly) threw themselves at his feet. He was the only one in all of Hell to go around in a non-leather outfit and still look desirable. He was also the only one in all of Hell that could go around with minimal usage of demon-tongue and avoid being branded 'inarticulate.' Whenever someone questioned these issues, he'd accidentally let slip his/her innermost secret and apologize profusely for being so inconsiderate. Everyone would laugh off the mistake while their Underlord blushed and chuckled at himself and, as soon as backs were turned, he'd punish said questioner for having such a secret in the first place. Those were just a few of the things that made Pegasex wonderful. He was also a Hell comic book and Hell gorgonzola cheese connoisseur.
Yami decided to try for sleep again but, after changing positions, tossing and turning, and throwing half of his pillows on the ground, he gave up. He reluctantly climbed out of bed and stretched before squeezing into his clothes. After composing his resolve and grabbing what he needed, he locked the Hell door behind him.
Yami dropped fifty Hell cents into the Hell vending machine and surveyed all of his choices before selecting number eight-hundred-thirty-two. The item slipped out from its coiled holder and Yami reached for it, grateful that he didn't have to kick the frequently malfunctioning machine this time to get at it. Ribbed, for his, her, its, their, or all of the above simultaneously's pleasure. If you are using this, you are a crackslacker.
"A condom, Yami?"
An arm draped around his shoulder and a familiar scent of charcoal-scented cologne stung his nose, the owner of both observing the object in his hand with disbelief and a hint of disappointment. "Go get unshanked, Bakura."
Bakura took the condom out of his hand and examined it as if he hadn't seen one up close in a very long time, "Must say, some skunkranking fungofooting non-popped cherry spitter is getting some pubilicious treatment!"
The linguist laughed when Yami irritably grabbed it from him and shoved it in his back pocket. When Bakura groped at the same back pocket, Yami spun his hips and slapped the hand away, eliciting a mock-frown from his Hell comrade.
"Aww, and I thought we were such vomitacious pounda rot shit slunks!" Bakura stuck out his bottom lip and wiped and invisible tear from the corner of his eye.
"You are my shit slunk," Yami said, despite not feeling the love at the moment, "My rot shit slunk, in fact. But you can be a fingerpentrating asshole sometimes." Bakura grinned and Yami continued, "The crapping mortal understanding of 'asshole,' that is."
Bakura brought a fist to his heart, "That was a real skeet to my bloodthrob, shit slunk of mine." He pointed to Yami's backside again, "But seriously, a condom? What the un-tits?"
Yami stared at Bakura, wondering if this was something he could tell his best friend. As an academic, Bakura had a very high opinion of himself and was quick to judge others. He was pretty sure Bakura had a few unspoken opinions about him as well and sometimes he wondered to what degree Bakura was genuine with him. Unfortunately, the linguist had talent to back up his claims. Many demons envied him but failed to find ways to bring down his ego. And if Bakura hadn't been, on some level, a good friend, Yami would have been among those demons.
"I'm going after THV."
Bakura's eyes widened and he frantically whipped his head around, making sure no one else heard what Yami just said. He took a step closer to Yami and emphatically mouthed 'The Hypervirgin?" waving his hands about to emphasize the absurdity of the statement.
Yami nodded slowly, regret pooling in his throat and holding back any satisfying answer.
When it was obvious that Yami was serious, Bakura gave him the gravest look he could muster, "You're a shafttard."
"I know it's a butt-bold statement. But I swishsticking swear, I got close. Testicularlastingly close!"
"You're still a shaftard."
"Testicularlastingly close, Bakura!"
"A brain-puking-damaged shafttard."
Yami wanted to reach out and strangle his best friend but the stunned expression on the other's face suggested that he hadn't quite escaped his shock. Bakura let out a blunt, "You'll fail" and Yami went to shove him for real this time but Bakura stopped his hand, shaking his head to indicate his seriousness.
"Heard lots of skankers say they're 'testicularlastingly close,' fart, heard them say 'testicularlasterifically close' too. You're just another foot fungus." Bakura patted Yami on the shoulder as if to comfort him, but Yami would have none of it.
Yami pulled a tiny feather from his other back pocket, one he'd managed to pluck from Yugi during their… activities.
Bakura looked at it skeptically at first but his interest immediately flared when Yami held it under his nose. Bakura took the delicate object between thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes and carefully running it under his nostrils like an expert judging the quality of wine.
Bakura opened his eyes and carefully regarded the alien object, "Febreze and baby powder," He smirked, "and some ass."
Yami snarled at him and made a grab for the feather but Bakura jerked it away and gave one final, loud, sniff, "Could still be gutrutt falsecock though."
"It's not a gutrutt fake!" Yami retorted, his thoughts of Bakura now leaning more towards 'asshole' than 'shit slunk,' "Look at it!"
Bakura held it up to the Hell light and closed an eye, twisting his wrist it back and forth to check its sheen. At one moment, it was visually there, the next, it disappeared. At a certain angle, it flashed all the colours of the rainbow and at another angle, it was too white to look at directly. The linguist was in awe and, once again, was incoherent.
Yami crossed his arms over his chest in triumph, "Testicularlastingly close, Bakura."
"Testicularinfinitalation close… if this is a non-falsecock." Bakura held the feather with a reverence of an archaeologist who'd just discovered fossilized dung. He blinked back to reality when Yami snatched it from his fingers and carefully slipped it in his front pocket.
Bakura rubbed his temple, hoping to message the belief into his highly sophisticated brain. He was a witness to the impossible and he had to respond to it in the most educated-sounding way he knew:
"How?"
"It was simplenipple."
"Then what the coitalcut happened?"
Yami's eye twitched and he pursed his lips. His body went rigid in an effort to control the shame.
"Lunch break ended. Reapbecca started her tonguetweatch screeching."
"What the fackshack were you upchuckstroke smeeting during your un-hurling smack?"
"You and I both know THV is ungroiningly unpredicatable! And what did you snortsucking expect me to do? Not have sex with it when I see it?"
Bakura raised an eyebrow, "You mean 'fuck' it."
"Yes… fuck it."
Bakura scoffed, "You skeeting me?"
"Glad you understand."
Bakura made a face, "Again, what the coitalcut happened?"
Yami began his story, making sure to curb certain truths in his favour and highlight his appropriate and highly skillful deeds wherever necessary. He flipped things around, turned things inside-out and had things inside other things when they weren't originally there. Bakura listened intently, scanning for signs of falsehood. Although Yami did a pretty good job, things started getting a little shaky when he got near the end. Eventually, he just… trailed off.
The academic scratched his head, wondering which plot hole made less sense. There was something very off about Yami's story but he also had to consider the fact that Yami did not have the gift for speech that he enjoyed. Yami was also just a blue-Hell-collar worker and as an analprodoasser, Yami's intelligence was clearly not to Bakura's caliber and it would only be natural for him to delude himself in regards to his merits.
"Shit slunk, just want you to pedophilatic know," Bakura clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder, "I will never, spanker, lose my respect for you."
Yami mentally rolled his eyes, offering a genuine-as-possible smile and gripping Bakura's hand to return the gesture.
"Wanna come with?"
Bakura shook his head, "I got a DYKE to slunk tomorrow."
Yami gave him a blank look and Bakura grinned. "Demon-tongue Yearly Knowledge Exam," He patted his 'wangalicious' Hell dictionary inside his Hell satchel, "Wow, shit slunk, you've really been poopatiously out of the snatchlatch, extremely non-hymen academic ballscroll for a long piss, haven't you?"
"You don't have to make it sound that pittingly bad," Yami mumbled.
"Nah," Bakura smacked Yami on the back a little too hard, "I respect you, remember?"
And Yami narrowed his eyes, "I'm handstimulatingly, peesprinklingly, sultan-of-a-dunghole-beetle-eyeballs, laplickingtongueswirl, extraordinarily non-er-tight…" Bakura cocked his head but Yami continued, "…wedding-night-times-ten-thousandly snitchsnatch, saggingbutt, going!"
Bakura was left speechless as his comrade stalked away, impressed beyond measure at the show of such eloquent and sophisticated vernacular.
"Although I understand we have reiterated this rather important issue before, I strongly believe it is of utmost importance that we re-explore the reasons for momentarily keeping you on hiatus in hopes that this rather unexpected and, unfortunately, inconvenient mishap is resolved. Do you understand, Yugi?"
The angel clasped his hands in front of him obediently and nodded, "I understand, Miss Celibacy."
The woman's purple eyes softened and she immediately regretted using such a harsh tone with their beloved Cupid, "Please, you may refer to me as 'Mai.' Miss Celibacy was my mother."
Again, Yugi nodded quietly, too consumed by his guilt to really listen to what Mai said.
"Although I understand that mistakes are as common in this realm as they are in the realms neighbouring our own," Mai sorted through a stack of papers and pulled out the document she was looking for, "You are the source of truth in the inexplicable disappearance of Burgundy arrow number eighty-thousand-trillion-five-hundred-twenty-six-m illion-seven-hundred-thousand-two-hundred-sixty-fo ur." She handed Yugi the paper with their Angel Overseer's signature on it and Yugi read through the official document slowly, already well aware of most of the details outlined.
He took his time reading the document, attempting to prolong eye contact with Mai. He found himself staring at his pooched-out belly, wondering how he failed to notice the weight gain. It was must have been the desserts. Desserts. That was what got Yugi into this mess in the first place.
Yugi couldn't lie, even if the truth posed a great threat to him. And what a truth this was. One that was as lean and hard as the mythological Ares and smelled as rich as cinder wood after a bonfire. Darn that truth! Darn him…er… it in its well-defined forearms! As an afterthought, Yugi wished he had such forearms. He found himself staring at his forearms.
"Um, Mai?"
He had her full attention. Sometime during his reading, she'd grabbed a clipboard and a pen, both now intently poised and ready to take note of what he had to say. Her breasts almost rested on top of the clipboard, but, of course, Yugi didn't notice. "I would request that you do not hesitate, Yugi, however, in order to facilitate effective recall, I would also urge you to take your time."
"Unfortunately, I am rather uncomfortable voicing my knowledge at the moment. Would it be too much of a burden if I am to begin by inquiring into the details regarding the previous mistakes you have mentioned before?" Yugi wove his fingers together and gave her the most pleading look he could muster, one that was said to be capable of blinding ten demons simultaneously.
Mai lowered her clipboard and reached out to gently pinch Yugi's cheek, "I have known very few who have successfully resisted your charm, dear Cupid." Yugi's entire body tinged pink when she winked at him and he twisted his bottom in his seat, "You may ask me anything."
"Um, w-what were the, um, consequences of these, um, unfortunate mistakes… if I may inquire?"
Mai 'hmmed' and tapped the back of her pen against the clipboard, "That is a rather broad question with no single answer to completely satisfy it. Perhaps you would be so kind as to restate your question in more definitive terms."
Yugi nervously swung his feet (which didn't touch the floor) and slipped each hand under his thighs, "Well, I suppose it would be of interest for me to inquire into the most severe case of such mistakes. If you would be so kind."
"Ah, please allow me several minutes to search for the answer you seek." Mai semi-circled the desk, nearly knocking a huge stack of papers, and sat down at her Heaven computer. She got out of the screensaver and began frantically typing. After some painful Heaven minutes, her face contorted into a series of negative expressions. She shook her head and Heaven swore under her breath. At odd times she stopped and stared at the screen, scanning and re-scanning over what she'd just read as if she didn't believe what she saw. Just when mini Mt. St. Heaven was about to erupt in Yugi's belly, she turned to look at him.
"To be honest, I do not know which truth is more detrimental, the fact that this arrow missed so severely or the fact that it had been a malfunctioning one in the first place." Mai bit her lower lip as she scanned the details once more, "Oh ungoodness…"
"Mai?" Yugi prompted again, sweat collecting in his palms and making them stick to his thin tunic.
She read aloud the details, her face inching closer to the screen as she did so, "In the mortal 1939, an archer became unusually obsessed with the events of the living world. Consequently, she decided to provide assistance to the 'victims' and snuck into a meeting of the world leaders, the United Nations."
Yugi held his breath.
"She found her opportunity when Winston Churchill stepped up to the podium, his eyes trained on one Adolph Hitler as he spoke." Mai scrolled down and started reading in her head until Yugi cleared his throat.
"Oh, apologies. She had assumed the extra Yellow arrow in her quiver would fly undetected by our records, but, in fact, it had just failed to meet standards. To bring this compendium of misfortune together, Mr. Hitler turned toward Mr. Joseph Stalin to ask for a piece of gum just as the yellow arrow hit him."
"S-so, Mr. Churchill and Mr. Hitler were in eye-contact when this archer launched her yellow arrow at Mr…. Hitler?"
Mai nodded.
"…and just as the arrow was about to hit Mr. Hitler, who had been watching Mr. Churchill and vice versa, Mr. Hitler turned towards Mr. Stalin and - "
" – asked for a piece of gum…"
"…asked for a piece of gum. Which, therefore, meant that Mr. Hitler and Mr. Stalin were conversing with each other when the sub-par friendship arrow hit Mr. Hitler."
"That is correct."
Yugi thought for a moment, then it hit him. And cursed was his love for history, at that moment. "The Nazi-Soviet Non-aggression Pact was the fault of Heaven?"
"Technically, that is correct." Mai sighed, "And we do not know if the faulty yellow arrow, one which we do not have a numerical assignment to, escaladed the events of the mortal realm in ways more detrimental than a well-functioning arrow may have avoided. However, considering the course of action following this 'Pact,' I would say it did."
Yugi sat stiff in his seat. "May I ask of the consequences that faced the wielder of this expansively unfortunate occurrence?"
Mai scrolled down some more and made a face. "Well, according to the records, one Kisara Meantwell was sent straight to the Underheaven without the possibility of probation."
Mai immediately saw Yugi's distress and squeezed his shoulder, "Do not fret, dearest Cupid. I am certain we shall see through this misfortune of yours as peacefully as possible, with little harm to yourself or your reputation." That hand went to nudge his cheek again, "And indeed, I have my doubts as to the amount of harm a gentle soul such as yourself can do with one misplaced arrow."
"I suppose."
"Come, let us review your file once more and then we shall advance from there." Mai rearranged more paper on her desk, dropping a couple of things here and there, which Yugi so graciously picked up for her.
"Mai, is this the folder you seek?"
Mai sighed with relief and embarrassment, gratefully talking the Heaven manila folder from Yugi, "I would certainly lose my own wings if the doctor had not sewn them so well onto my back. Now, let us have a look at this, shall we?"
"Y-your wings are not Heaven-born?"
Mai pretended she hadn't heard the question. "Burgundy arrow number eighty-thousand-trillion-five-hundred-twenty-six-m illion-seven-hundred-thousand-two-hundred-sixty-fo ur was to find its way to Britney Spears during her private concert for Justin Timberlake. Please tell me, Yugi, do you possess the knowledge as to the true fate of this particular Burgundy arrow?"
Yugi wished he could have died in his seat.
"W-well, I had been…" Yugi swung his legs nervously, accidentally kicking the underside of the desk and stubbing his toes. He hissed in pain, tears stinging his eyes.
Mai frowned, "Are you unwell, darling Cupid?"
"To be perfectly honest, Mai, I am rather…hungry."
"Oh immense gracious! We have kept you here for a duration of well over thirty hours! My immense apologies, dear Cupid, if you would be so kind as to forgive me, I would be much obliged to give you a small break of snack."
Yugi was surprised that the excuse actually flew, but he wasn't in the position to question his good fortune. "You are well forgiven and more. And I would very much appreciate the small break of snack as you have so graciously offered."
"Please ensure that you return when you are sufficiently satiated, Yugi."
"I assure you, I will be."
Suffice it to say, Yugi didn't make it past ten steps out the door when something rather inconvenient happened.
TBC…
