Revisions

by Concolor44

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Author's Note: Yes, it will take a while … centuries, possibly. She considers it worth the effort (and she has the time, so why not, eh?)

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Chapter Six

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Titans' Tower

Nightwing stared at Raven in disbelief. "… And you're calling it what?"

"The Eighth Circle Travel Service. The logo is a circle made up of eight small, red rings. Cute, huh?"

"… Why?"

"Why that name?"

"Yeah."

"Why not? It's a straightforward, no-nonsense name that doesn't mislead anyone."

"Well, yeah … but how the hell, you'll pardon the expression, do you plan to get anyone to take it seriously?"

"Not a problem."

"… Meaning?"

"Meaning we're booked up for the foreseeable future, at least on the planets that are ready for clients."

"… Seriously?!"

"Serious as a Federal subpoena. There's a waiting list."

"But … but what are they going to be doing on a planet in Hell?"

"Pretty much anything they want." She caught his confused expression and clarified, "There are several … I guess you'd call them Levels of Experience. There's a Late Teens version, which would be not terribly unlike a really well-done Haunted Mansion, only a lot more intense. Some of the boys have gotten really creative with that stuff." She gave Nightwing a keen glance. "You are aware that teenagers feel things more intensely than older people, yes?"

"Yes, I knew that. But …"

"Terrific. Anyway, the teen sections are monitored to disallow entry to anyone who's under fifteen or over nineteen. Also, they're warded to prevent any hanky-panky of the sort that teens like to get up to."

"You would be quite familiar with that."

"Ditto you and Star. And Gar and Terra. And, for that matter, Aqualad and Argent, and Speedy and Cheshire, and Kid Flash and …"

"Yes, I get the picture! You're curbing certain of their natural urges."

"Correct. Otherwise, their guardians and/or parents likely wouldn't sign the consent forms."

"Ah! So you are doing that."

"Of course. Think I want to get hit with a ton of lawsuits? Or unplanned pregnancies? Duh." She cleared her throat. "Next come the Young Adult experiences, for the Twenty-Something crowd. They tend heavily toward romance and, ah, the physical expression thereof. Then …

"Are you even sure this is legal?"

"The niceties of interdimensional leisure travel don't really have any legal underpinnings yet. Glitch says we can expect to work through those in the next couple of years. Anyway, at the top of the heap there's what we're marketing as The Ultimate High. That one we're only offering to those who are, first of all, over the age of twenty-five, and second, not virgins. And they have to sign a waiver."

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Eighth Circle: Planet 1,585,404 (Paradise Found)

Tomas simply couldn't take his eyes off Maia. This thoughtful, generous, stunning genius of a woman had said, "I do" some six hours earlier, and now she was looking at him with a mixture of puzzlement and expectation.

"So when do I get to find out where we're going?"

"Soon." He stroked a hand down her soft cascade of wavy, black hair, never tired of the sensation.

"We've been in this elevator for kind of a long time."

As if that were a key phrase, the elevator slowed and stopped, the doors whooshing open gently. Maia's breath caught. She took a slow step. One more … did a long pan of what lay in front of her. "Oh … my … God."

This rambling suite was roughly halfway up the side of a steep mountain, and the expanses of glass on three sides offered nearly unbelievable views of the rest of the range, and the long downward sweep to the bright sands of a pristine beach. Tasteful, comfortable furniture was arranged here and there, presenting seating for any desired view. Directly across from them, wide French doors opened onto a deck of some richly golden-brown hardwood that led down to an infinity pool. Flowers of a hundred varieties decorated the walls and various stands and trellises. Off to the right, in a cozy dining nook, a table was set with braised duck, twice-baked potatoes, a delicate aspic with wedges of lightly toasted naan, and a toothsome deconstructed salad. A magnum of champagne stood in an iced container to the side, accompanied by a chilled bowl of strawberries. Open double-doors to the left let her see into the spacious bedroom.

Utterly stunned, Maia stepped down off the landing and wandered into the bedroom. Indirect lighting in the tray ceiling cast a soft glow. A California King bed dominated the far wall. Two huge closets to either side held a variety of clothing. She pointed to the clothes and gave him a puzzled look.

"They're tailored."

Her mouth hung open a second or two. "Tailored."

"Yes. Don't worry, everything will fit. Also, we get to keep it."

"But … how …"

"I told you this resort was different."

Maia gave him an incredulous look, then shook her head and stepped over to another door. The bathing area contained a gigantic tub, liberally supplied with jets for subtle massage. The vanity had five mirrors and four different lighting schemes. Several nooks contained a bewildering array of soaps and perfumes, shampoos and oils and lotions.

She trailed a slim hand along the luxurious textured wall covering, then glanced down at the soft, resilient surface of the main floor. It looked a bit like suede. She knelt and felt it, a silly grin coming to rest on her face, then kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the cool, mossy covering.

Tomas's grin answered hers. "So, do you like it?"

She turned her dark, smoldering gaze on him and said, "Come here and let me show you how much."

##


In the hidden chamber immediately below the opulent suite, a quartet of succubi sprawled on overstuffed sofas. An occasional low moan or sigh of delight punctuated an otherwise complete silence.

Several hours passed.

When the newlyweds upstairs had taken a break to try a bit of the duck, resumed their earlier activities, and then were finally exhausted enough to sleep, the demons began to stir. One of them shook her head, managed, after some effort, to focus her eyes, and looked over at Zori. "Damnation."

"Toldja."

"Best … fucking … thing … ever."

Another one slurred, "We're gonna hafta do som'thin' f'r Dread Lady. Som'thin' special."

"Got that right."

The last one spoke up. "Keep this up an' I'll get fat."

"Only if you want to, ditz. You can shapeshift."

"Mentally fat."

"Too late."

The insulted demon waved it off with a thoroughly-sated smile. "Whatever. In too good a mood to care."

"Oh, hey! Listen!"

"Huh?"

"She's dreaming!"

Quiet descended again.

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Titans' Tower

"This has to be the craziest business model I've ever heard of!" Nightwing had both hands on his head. "Are you going to make any money at all on this?"

"Made."

"… Beg pardon?"

"We've already cleared our expenses. From here on out, something like eighty percent of what we take in will be profit."

"But … But how …"

"Because there are better than forty-three thousand sapient species inhabiting just this galaxy. We're advertising on quite a few of them."

He stared at her for a second, then nodded. "Huh. So … so, do the demons have a favorite mortal race to …"

"Oh, sure. Dozens, depending on which emotions are being harvested. Humans are pretty versatile, but if you want a completely amazing fear reaction, take a look at the Bahool, the inhabitants of Dekkom. They evolved from a prey species."

Nightwing considered that. "Seems like that would make them want to avoid any scenario that they knew was going to scare them."

"Yeah, most of them. But the incidence of not-wrapped-too-tight is even higher among the Bahool than it is among humans. And you know the rest of the galaxy thinks humans are pretty much bat-shit crazy."

"They're not far wrong," he muttered.

"Exactly. So even though they have a startle response to the slightest stimulus, there are a significant number of them that want the thrill." Her lips curled into a slight leer. "Think of it as similar to the asphyxiation high associated with climax."

"Now there's a picture I didn't need."

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Eighth Circle: Planet 666,666 (Phobia)

"They've … cleared … the first zone." The red-skinned demon at the control board had to prop himself up with an arm of his chair.

Their Coordinator, Amateratto, managed a quiet, "Excellent."

"Hey, Amateratto?"

"… What?"

"Have I mentioned … lately … what a genius you are?"

"Not … in the last forty seconds … or so."

Another demon, who had fallen out of his seat, murmured, "So … delicious."

A low, satisfied chorus answered that.

One of the two still in his seat grunted, "Probably about five minutes before they hit the next zone."

From the floor came a faint, "An' I'll need all of 'em to get back into my chair."

##


"Stay close! Close, damn it!" Eric reached over and grabbed Elizabeth by the wrist.

She jerked her arm away. "Don't touch me!"

"We have to stay on the trail! It's like fucking Mirkwood out there!"

"Knock it off, you two," advised Zachary, the supposed leader of the group. "They may be deaf, but that doesn't mean they can't feel vibrations."

Elizabeth spat, "Just 'cause he's on the football team, he thinks he can do anything!"

Adjusting his glasses, Zachary insisted, again, that they be quiet. "If we're gonna get through to the base, we have to stay away from the spiders." He edged his jogging speed up a notch.

Karen, who had come on this trip under objection and against her better judgment, mumbled (again), "Those can't be spiders. They can't. They just can't."

Lana, already quite tired of that refrain, finally muttered, "Why the hell not?"

"They're too big."

"Too big? But didn't bugs and stuff used to be a lot bigger? Like in the fossils?"

"Not that big. Not even close."

Exasperated, Lana asked, "And what the hell does that mean?"

"Spiders … spiders are different. They move their legs by altering the hydraulic pressure in them. Their exoskeleton is really only there to direct the motion, to act as a … a kind of pipe or hose. That's why they curl up when they die. No hydraulic pressure."

"… How do you know this crap? You spout stuff like that in class all the time, and I know it pisses off ol' Ms. Jenkins as bad as it does me!"

"Clarinda Jenkins is an idiot, and a complete waste of space as a teacher. That doesn't change what I said." She gave Lana a sober look. "I listened to a TED talk once by this spider expert. His position was that if spiders were the size of house-cats, there wouldn't be any humans."

Zachary was rubbing his temples and trying to keep himself from shouting. "Can we please just walk?" Frankly, I'd rather herd house-cats. At least they'd keep moving.

"I still don't get it," insisted Lana. "Why does hydraulics-"

"Because of the force involved. A spider's leg weighs a few milligrams, if that. The change in pressure between curled and extended is minuscule."

"Yeah, so?"

"That thing was bigger than my Mom's Mini Cooper. The legs were … Zach, what would you say? Somewhere between ten and fifteen centimeters?"

"What I say," he responded through gritted teeth, "is that we need to keep moving and BE QUIET."

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Amateratto ducked his horns through the doorway and called, "Phase Two coming up!"

Two other demons, sitting at monitor stations, grinned evilly and started manipulating a series of holographic control surfaces. One said, "Right. 'Spiders 2.o' coming online."

"The Arachnopocalypse."

"Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!"

Suppressing a grin, Amateratto asked, "How long till they hit the receptor zone?"

"Not long. Have a seat." He adjusted the gain on the Emote-o-Scope™ and leaned forward. "Not long at all."

##


Lana scoffed, "Yeah, yeah, fine. Geez." She hefted her machete. "I think this would slice through 'em pretty good, though."

Karen shook her head emphatically. "No. It wouldn't."

"… Why not?"

"Hydraulic pressure. Moving something that big – that fast – with hydraulics would take some serious pressure. To hold that pressure in, the exoskeleton would have to be ridiculously strong. So, no, I don't think your little whackety-whack would do much to it. Which is also why I'm sure they can't be spiders."

Rob, who hadn't said anything up to that point, muttered, "Sure looked like spiders."

"Maybe they're robots," offered Elizabeth. "Those can get really big! Like in Pacific Rim."

Karen and Zach both turned to her with their mouths hanging open. They glanced at each other. She said, "You wanna take this?"

"Sure."

They all resumed their quick-march as Zach stepped back beside Elizabeth. "In the first place, that was science fiction. Emphasis on 'fiction', with the 'science' part pretty much trashed. In the second place, that movie was the worst pile of techno-drivel I ever attempted to sit through. As far as bad movie physics is concerned, it gives The Core a run for its money. In the third, the writing sucked ass and the plot had more holes than a fine Swiss cheese. In the fourth … well, it was an Idiot Plot."

Elizabeth caught the capital letters on that term. "Idiot Plot?"

"Where the things the people do are only explainable if they're all idiots. Look, they spent billions building those Jaegers, right?"

"Right. That's why it was such bad news when one would lose to a kaiju."

"Uh-huh. Well, for the same price as one Jaeger, the government could have built at least forty rail gun emplacements. There were twenty-odd Jaegers, so that's eight hundred rail guns, any one of which could take down a kaiju from five kilometers out."

"… What's a rail gun?"

He started rubbing his temples again. "Explain to me one more time what you're doing here?"

"My lottery ticket got pulled. Same as you!"

Eric stuttered, "G-guys?"

They looked over at him.

He pointed at something that was rustling the bushes off to their right. "RUN!"

They ran.

The spiders ran faster. Fortunately, there were only three of them this time.

Karen was correct. Their machetes couldn't penetrate the tough chitin. The eyes, though, were a different issue, as Eric discovered. The others emulated him, and quickly drove off the eight-legged nightmares. They were about to resume their run when Karen shouted, "Hey! Where's Bob?"

"You mean Rob?"

"Whatever. Where is he?"

They called his name a few times, but he didn't appear. There was, however, more rustling in the forest. On both sides. Casting terrified glances at each other, they turned their jog into a sprint. Zachary complained, "Nobody said anything about fighting real, live, giant, fucking spiders! Not one word!"

Karen shouted him down. "Those things cannot be fucking spiders!"

"Shut up and run."

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"Everybody still with me?"

Several gurgles (and one giddy laugh) answered Amateratto. One said, "Sure, Boss. No prob." But he didn't get up.

Another one said, "Sinnerrit? Might want to … turn the volume down … a little. Whoosh."

"Yeah. Who knew six kids … could radiate … so much fear. … Shit … just … shit."

"They get … to the base camp yet?"

"Ten minutes, tops. And when they discover … it's been trashed …"

"Yeah. This is, like, the best thing possible. Ever." He giggled. And if you've never seen a spike-encrusted, four-meter-tall, fifteen-hundred-kilogram demon giggle, well … let's just say it's kinda unsettling.

Amateratto, who was beyond gratified with the success of his design, commented, "Right. And you know what the best part is?"

"What's that?"

"The complete shock they feel because this is all real."

"Ha. Yeah. And they came here of their own free will."

"They were expecting some kind of virtual reality. Instead, they're being chased by real, actual monsters, who now seem to have made off with one of them. That utter denial, underlain by the knowledge that, yes, they came here deliberately, even paid for the privilege, and now they're afraid they might really die. The raw power of their fear! So pungent! And that sprinkling of disbelief for seasoning. And it's all right here, in our dimension, where we can get the maximum dose." He paused, musing. "Heh. Anybody ever says a word against the Dread Lady, I'll pull his lungs out through his armpits."

He got a rousing chorus of agreement with that statement.

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Titans' Tower

"So. We're starting the saturation campaign in two weeks."

"You planning on filling … what was it? Better than five hundred million planets? You said you gave each demon ten, and there were better than fifty million demons."

"Oh, that won't be necessary, certainly not at first. Sure, there are a few who decided to pander to specific fetishes, but they're in the extreme minority. Also, with very few exceptions, the demons formed teams."

"Teams? For what?"

"Several reasons, not the least of which was that teamwork helped them get their worlds finished a lot faster. Confidentially? That was one outcome I was really hoping for."

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Eighth Circle: Planet 7 (Downhill)

Elsa took a deep breath, relishing the bite of the cold, achingly clear air.

Angela asked, "You ready?"

"Born ready."

Her partner gave her a sidelong look. "Sure you were."

"Burning daylight, Angie."

"What do we do if we get separated?"

"Aw, come on!"

"What do we do if we-"

"Coordinate GPS beacons and establish radio contact."

Angela smirked. "Good. Straight out of the guidebook. Okay, then, what if your GPS gets smashed?"

"Then I have an emergency backup beacon in my helmet, and another on my belt."

"And if those, for some reason, don't work?"

"Flares. One on each stick, two on my belt, two in the lower rear pockets of my coat." Elsa turned to her and took one of her hands. "It'll be okay, Angie. I promise."

"You can't make that promise. That's why we signed the waiver." She pointed to the trail head. "Once we get past the second marker, it's sixty-two hundred meters before there's even a hint of a place to pause. Four jumps. Five-"

"Five seventy-degree falls. And eight of those ultra-slalom areas where we could crash straight into a rock face if we don't do it just right. I know. We've been through this." She pulled Angela into a hug. "Are you really that worried? We talked all this out. Or I thought we had."

"I'm … um …"

"What's really wrong?"

After a couple of quick swallows, Angela whispered, "Manaslu."

"Sweetie … that was almost three years ago. I'm completely healed."

"I know."

"And I'm a better skier for it, right?"

"… Better than you were."

"… And?"

"… um …"

"What you're trying to say is that I'm still not as good as you are. Right?"

Angela shrugged and nodded.

Elsa leaned in and rubbed noses. "We know where all the dangerous – um, all the worst parts are." She chuckled. "I guess the whole thing's dangerous."

"Yeah."

"Honey … we're here. We've already paid for the trip. If all we wanted to do was soak in a hot tub and make love, we could've stayed in Fort Collins."

"I know."

"Just think. Think of the stories we'll get to tell. Can you picture Chris's face?"

That pricked a smile up on Angela's lips. "He'll be so green everybody'll mistake him for a potted plant."

"Some of our friends already do that."

A full laugh answered that statement. Angela hugged her love and laid her head on the taller woman's shoulder. "It sounded good in theory. Maybe not so much in practice." Turning her head, she gazed out into the uninterrupted blue. "Looking down that slope now? It's a bit … intimidating."

"Yes. It is. But is anything in this life – anything that's worth the effort – not intimidating at some point?"

"Hah. Ya got me there. You were certainly intimidating … at first anyway."

"Only because you didn't know I'd already set my cap for you."

They stood in silence for most of a minute. At length, Angela let her go and backed away. She bent down and checked the security of her ski boots. After a couple of seconds, Elsa did the same. Then they adjusted their goggles, tightened all the places on their parkas that needed tightening, and headed for the slope.

##


Erterasu muttered, "It's about damned time."

"Cool your jets, brother," answered Malvikkor as he placed the transmission helmet on his head. "The feast is about to commence."

One of the issues the demons had to get around was the proximity factor. The intensity of emotional pickup fell off at a ratio of half the square of the distance, so the closer they were to the mortals in question, the better. That meant the adrenaline rush experienced by the skiers would hardly be a trickle unless the demons actually followed them down the mountain. Not a problem for those who could both fly and become invisible … but that didn't include any of the present company.

After conferring with Raven about their needs in this area, she met with her tech-succubi and they hammered out a concept for a remote directional pickup. Three design iterations later, they had one that would channel a practically undiluted flow of exhilaration from one spot to another. The demons had almost a quarter of a million of the devices placed along the various slopes of their resort.

As Angela and Elsa passed the first one – the one concealed in the bright white sign with the row of three black diamonds on it – the half-dozen demons in the command center visibly sagged. Low moans and satiated grunts were all that was heard there for the next forty minutes until their guests reached the bottom of the long, long slope.

##


Angela was absolutely giddy. "We didn't die!"

"Nope!" agreed Elsa as she picked up her lover and twirled her around. "Although I'm pretty sure my thighs are going to be screaming at me tomorrow."

A slow smile took over Angela's face. "Didn't you say something earlier about a hot tub? And possibly a bit of lovemaking?"

Elsa set her down. "I surely did."

"You know a hot tub does wonders for over-taxed muscles."

"It surely does."

"And gets you all clean and fresh and stuff."

"The possibilities are truly endless."

Grabbing Elsa's hand, Angela urged her toward their transport. "Last one in's a rotten raisin!"

"More like first one in, but I get your point. Let's not dilly-dally."

"I like the way you think."

Once they were seated and on their way along the monorail back to the lodge, Angela ventured, "Think we can try the other three-diamond slope? In, say, a few days?"

"You know it, babe."

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Titans' Tower

"Wait … you want teams of demons?"

"I want a spirit of cooperation. Demons tend to be self-centered. They were like that even before Dear Ol' Dad took over, and his influence didn't improve things at all."

"I imagine not. So … cooperation? Thinking outside of themselves?"

"Sort of. Naturally, to begin with, it's all about instant gratification. But gradually, over time, my goal is to expand their horizons, emotionally."

"You'll have to spell that one out. What horizons?"

"You'll have noticed that they come across as a bit one-dimensional. The succubi are all about the lust, for example."

"Eh. True."

"I hope, eventually, to help them get rounded out as individuals. Many of them aren't bad company when you get down to it, and I think they have a lot of potential. This system is also training them to be less violent."

"Less violent? But didn't you say that the point for a lot of them was to generate fear or dread or something similar? How is that less violent?"

"It's less violent than actually disemboweling the victim. See, now they know that they can count on repeat business: an endless stream of willing victims who will give them all the fear or lust or dread or exhilaration they can handle. It will condition them not to kill."

"Okay, I'll agree that's a good thing."

"Thanks." She headed for the Common Room door.

"Where you off to now?"

"I promised Jinx I'd take her to this lovely little bistro in Antwerp. They have the most amazing mussels …"

"Right. Have fun."

"Oh, trust me … I will."

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End Note:

Here ends this portion of the cycle. There will, in all probability, be at least one more story. I've got the basic plot. But first, there are a few "Frozen" stories that need my attention, and then a couple of sequels for older tales …

So many stories, so little time.

Reviews = Love!