The clang of the swords still rang in my ears after practice. It was always like that. Constant sparring, constant readiness for the last push of Oblivion. We were the victims of violence, and the preservers of the sanity in the land of the dead. I turned to Keith, who was still beside me. I did not want to think now. He smirked to me, cocky as ever. "You still give me a work out. Boy, whoever trained you, trained you good."

I smirked, "Must have been the best. You can work with it when you have a lot of anger in you."

"So much anger. So much I could put to use. Why don't you give in and take out your boss? He doesn't appreciate you, you know…" I shut my ears to the voice, the constant voice of me.

"Uh huh, just don't go too nuts up there with the anger." He rapped a fist on my head, smirking in good humor. "Old boy always has some tricks up his sleeve. Try to be Zen."

"Yeah, be Zen. You be…" My conversation was interrupted by a figure standing before me. She stood at attention. Long braided black hair and armor that fitted to frame. She was lean and lithe. She had poignant blue eyes that burned with fiery emotion. All her color was in her wrists; however, it was a stark contrast to her eyes. Jagged lines ripped across both of them, and I could she a bright crimson red still seeping out of them. She was not of my Legion. She was of the Silent Legion. The Legion of Despair. Death by one's own hand do not end up in hell, but they end up here. Which is hell enough, I suppose.

She regarded me rather coldly, and it was to be expected. Our Legion did not have the best of relations with them. Our lives cut short we cannot have much respect for those who chose to waste theirs by their own hand. "Adrian, is it?"

I turned to her as my name was mentioned. "Yes?"

"You have orders to report to your commander as soon as possible." She flexed her hands, cracking imaginary knuckles, causing the crimson to flow a little more. She also had a mark on her left hand which I did not readily recognize. I averted my eyes to hers.

"And may I ask why is a member of a Silent Legion giving me orders?" I questioned. Inter Legion politics were all too familiar for me to be suspicious.

"I had a personal meeting with your commander. He requested that I find you and give the order." The crimson glowed a little in her wrists. My eyes could not help but be attracted to it. I again tried to focus my eyes on hers.

"Right. Well then, carry on." It was silent before I offered her a salute and looked to Keith.

He humped. "That was odd."

"Yeah, it was. I didn't think they associated with us that much."

Keith nodded in agreement. "They don't. Especially of their unit."

I quirked an eyebrow towards Keith and turned in his direction. "You mean the Silent Legion?"

Keith shook his head. "No, the Warriors of Lethe. They are a unit within the Silent Legion. They join it to die a second time in the glory of battle. To forget the pain of their lives and be destroyed in honorable combat against Oblivion."

I shook my head in disbelief. "How do you know that?"

"The mark on her hand shows her membership. I know because I worked with some of 'em. Don't talk about much more than battle plans and effects of maximum damage." He shook his head. "Some of the best soldiers I knew."
I nodded. "So, someone who isn't going to spend much time here is consorting to make alliances and deals with our legion? You're right. That is odd."

Keith offered a knowing smile. "Yup, it is. Anyway, you're up slugger. Meeting with the Mortar. Knock 'em dead." He smirked and offered a wave as he walked off.

I waved back and looked on ahead to make my way to Stygia's main road. It was suspicious that a member of a suicide squad had a talk with a commander of the Legion. It could be the business of the Silent Legion, but I couldn't picture a member of an elite combat squad entrusted with efforts of diplomacy. I'd have to ask Keith about it later. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed that I passed my building. Even if I wasn't lost in thought, I could still get lost. The city of the dead was a sky rise of twisted steel and winding roads, a virtual maze. It was unlike anything in the world of the living, and rightly so. I stepped backward and opened the doors made by the souls of the damned. It groaned. I ignored it.

"They were still alive when they went to the forge! They screamed and bled to be twisted into a chair! How does that armor feel on you? Maybe it was your great-grandfather!" The shadow spoke again. I dared not agree with it, no matter how right it seemed. To agree was to make it right, and to make it seem right was the path to Oblivion.

The lobby was empty except for a single clerk sitting at a desk next to tow large stair cases leading up. The walls were made of steel, as was the floor. The place was utterly empty except for one wraith. I felt eyes all around me. I approached the gaunt figure looking bored as he sat on the desk. The slash wound across his neck was visible from a distance. Long and ragged. I kept eye contact with him. "Good afternoon. I have an appointment with Commander Skeffington. My name is Adrian."

He looked up with hollow grey eyes. Everything about him was unnerving. "Yeah, I know. You're late."

"Well, I just go…"

"Head up the left staircase. Fifth floor, last room, end of the hall. Only time I'm telling you." He went back to staring into nothing in the lobby. I got one last look at him and was given a cold stare.

I blinked and went up the stairs, hustling past him. I could feel the anger, the undirected pain. He was young and his detest for this existence had caused the shadow to eat at him. It could happen surprisingly quick for souls to listen to the voice in their head and turn down a path of pain and hatred. The shadow for people like him relied on quick-gratification. If I had been a little more stubborn, a little more demanding, he could have went off. The kid was a ticking time bomb. I would have to mention it to the Commander, he would need help.

I climbed the winding, grey staircase. I had to count floors. There were no markers, just steel doors without any specifications to which floor was which. Eventually reaching the fifth floor I opened the door.

The hallway was narrow, lit only by single light bulbs. The doors were spaced in accordance with the lights so they could be easily seen. The doors were shaped in the same metal that the hallway doors were. The walls were strong cinderblocks, grey, one on another. In my mortal life, I was claustrophobic. I could handle this, it was only a hallway. Each step I took in the long hallway resonated. Click, click, click.

Half-way down the hall and I've felt more claustrophobic then I have ever felt in my entire life. If I were mortal, I wouldn't have been able to breathe. The dim light made the shadows play on the walls. I shut my eyes and the shadows played in my head. I was too nervous. It was irrational to be nervous now. This couldn't be so bad. I knew I was alone when I heard my own steps. Click, click, click.

I noticed something on the corner of the door. Did it move? I wasn't alone here. I shut my eyes and continued. I balled my fists and opened my eyes resolutely. The walls were covered in souls. The souls that this place was made out of them. They screamed their agony to me, wanting my blood. I couldn't take any more. I burst out running across the remainder of the hallway, my own steps following me. Click, click, click.

I reached out and touched the door knob. I almost forgot to knock first, but before I could, a voice spoke, calling out over the door. "Come in, come in." And I opened the door and stepped into his office.

***

Nazis aren't generally liked in the Shadowlands. The slaughter of millions of people and soldiers saw to it that almost all were met by their victims when they crossed over. Needless to say, not many Nazis survived. Obergefreiter Skeffington, equivalent to Colonel Skeffington, is one of the few exceptions. He worked his way up the ranks through favors and the usual backstabbing to his officer position before the Second World War. When the conflict was started, he was sent out to the front lines and killed in the first battle in which his was Colonel. He was an amazing strategist and could have been proved a pain in the ass for the allies if he had lived. This is one of the reasons he wasn't immediately killed in the Shadowlands. He died before the major deaths of the war were inflicted. The other was that he was far too valuable a strategist to be killed, even though no one admitted it. It was seen as a necessary evil against Oblivion and he was quietly spared, though he likes to think he survived.

"So, how have you been lately? Comfortable with your position?" He pressed a skeletal arm to the desk. He had no accent. The only language in the Shadowlands was the universal tongue of the dead. Language is only a tool for the living.

I forced myself not to cringe at him. The Colonel was killed by mortar fire, a blast that tore him to pieces. Every place that was lost was replaced here with skeleton. His left side was more or less untouched, but his right side was scarred permanently. His right arm was permanently skeletal, and part of his right torso melded with the…the meat of his left side. He purposely kept this exposed, though he did wear pants and military boots. His face was burned black with skin stretched over bone to reveal a skeletal grin with sharp jagged teeth that locked together. He still wore his officer's hat. His eyes were dead flesh, unnerving even more than red pinpoints. They looked nowhere and everywhere at once. "Uhm…Yes sir."

He bit down. "Well, I think things are a bit too easy for you. We think we need you as an infiltrator."

I blinked. Infiltrators were the judge, jury and executioner of the Grim Legion. They found and hunted the murderers of the victims of the Grim Legion. Took them in and let justice take its course as it was not able to do in life. Infiltrators would even take in other souls that had killed wantonly for punishment. Our forges were never short of material. "I don't know what to say."

The commander nodded to me. "All you have to do is say yes. If you accept…" I could feel that he smirked at me, he knew I would accept. No one ever says no. He paced the office in an at ease position. "Your first assignment is you."

I blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you." The commander traced his skeletal hand around his desk that was molded to look like wood. "Our Death Lord has decided that this is your one chance for vengeance. Once you find the man, the woman that did this to you, you have one chance at justice."

I nodded to him. I had not thought about this. My goal was to forge ahead in this new life, and to forget the past. It was the chance to see what I had to lost. I did not want to revisit pain, I wanted to feel nothing. I didn't want to think. But refusal was to admit that murder was casual and alright. I couldn't go that route. Nor would I. "I'd be honored, sir." I stood at attention and resisted the urge to ball my hands into fists.

"Good then. You start immediately." He looked at me with his hollow dead eyes, my cue to leave. Slowly bowing my head to him, I began to turn but my memory caught something.

"Sir? A question if I may." I did not let my nerves overtake my voice, especially when the hollow eyes of his turned onto me.

"Speak."

"Your receptionist in the lobby seems far gone by his other half…I feel it would be beneficial for him to be treated."

No expression was visible except the taut skeletal grin marring his face. "Don't worry. We're going to provoke him soon enough into a frenzy. Just reason to send him to the forges. We're getting short on equipment."

I nearly choked. I never showed weakness. Not to him. I nodded my head, "I see Commander. Good thinking." I offered a salute and turned out of his office and into the claustrophobic hallway.

The steel was silent now, but I could hear the pain from the lobby. The screams echoed even up here, they were so loud. I shut my eyes, I pretended they were nothing. I could feel the walls closing and the screaming permeated me. I stood, I could not move. The screaming went on shrill and loud until a sudden silence punctuated it. I did not stand for a moment longer and hustled down the hallway with my eyes shut. I only heard the soft reverberations of my footsteps, and the silent sound of a metal door closing shut.