Year I - Act I - Laws of corruption - Chapter II.

"Well. It *IS* quite an interesting addition, don't you think?"

Rosie was humming, her favorite umbrella in hand, weighing it like a baseball bat. Not too far from the truth, although the sharpened tip of the umbrella had a purpose far more worrisome, and brutal, than that of blunt trauma. It probably would come as a surprise, but the word 'Lucky' would aptly describe those that took the full brunt of the assault, for there were many ways Rosie could make someone's last moments miserable. The woman's heels worked as a fine example; were far less deadly with her precision and made to fulfill her desire to inflict a lot more pain to her victims when she wasn't in the mood to offer them an easy way out.

And right now she felt the need to use them more than going for the kill. That is, if whoever did this was weakened enough for Rosie to take her time with them.

Because the 'tower' she saw in front of her reeked of energies Rosie wanted well and far away from her territory. A mix of powers close to Lucifer, and the meddling and sweet as sickness holy energies from Heaven. Not too dissimilar despite Lucifer's fall so long ago. Better not mention the similarities to him however, not many managed to survive the 'comparison'.

Far more importantly than that little sidenote, that holy remnant also meant the building could become a death trap for her posse. Losing any of them for an unknown, and nebulous gain (if there was anything to be had, other than a fight), would just not do her any favors, and in fact made her smile falter for a moment. It could even be dangerous for her, but she was unable to back down now. Doing so would leave her open for questioning, outside forces could press her on this piece of unowned territory, and her own general image would decay. To Rosie this strange 'edifice' was a problem and nothing else.

Her aide, the same demoness that bothered her at tea time, came to her side. "Miss Rosie… what is it?"

Rosie stopped her humming as she pursed her lips. What WAS that thing? Good question. Beyond the headache it was, all she could come up with was what she had already thought of it as: A tower.

But it wasn't.

To be honest, it was not a tower, or a building. It was 'nothing at all'. And by 'nothing' Rosie meant the building was impossible; a puzzle floating in the air, an impossibility built of magic and disconnected segments. Thus, in Rosie's mind, all she could consider this thing was just that: Broken pieces. The moniker of 'tower' would suffice for now, as the Overlord's main thought considered the problem it posed to far outstrip whatever worth the thing could have. IF, and this is very important, you ignore the magic in it.

Said point of magical origin, and apparent anchor to her territory, was clear though, and it began with the main access to the tower itself. In here the demoness at her side hadn't lied: The base of this magical amalgamation looked like a brown, wooden, simple door with a brass handle. It was attached to a wall, to a room, a corridor, that seemed to extend a few meters past the door… then it just disappeared. It wasn't so much a 'gradual' thing as the walls turning transparent and then 'not there' was a very quick effect that barely measured a few inches. Of course it wasn't that simple, and having circled around the property at least once Rosie had seen that you couldn't even see the door itself from the other side. There was just blackness. Not 'darkness', just a void so black even Rosie's own eyes could pale in comparison to, as if something had swallowed a portion of reality itself.

Figured that was weird? Then what do you think about five floors above ground level that occupied roughly double to three times the space they should? Why? Good question, Rosie would love to know the answer if you find it somewhere. But the unknown behind the structure's size wasn't the problem. The problem was how every 'floor' seemed to be a whole damn landscape. Miniaturized, in a sense. Perhaps that may require explaining further.

The easiest one to tackle, if only because that was the one Rosie had been able to see the most, and because she had spent a short time atop a building to make her own mind about this mess, was the first floor. It looked like a long, neverending shoreline, with a single building close to the beach. Said building well above sea level, next to a very tall and steep cliff that overlooked everything else in sight, looked heavily damaged on the outside. With rather plentiful grass there was nothing else to see except what looked like a forest, maybe? It was far away in the distance from every angle Rosie had looked at, but she was sure she had seen a few trees on the opposite side, far away from the water.

Other than that, there was another 'door' like the one present at ground level right next to each side of the house. One of them looked as if it was coming from underground with how the disappearing corridor materialized again from nowhere, while the other aimed up before becoming equally intangible. Oh, it also had a 'sky'. Gray and raining, with plenty of wind from what Rosie could see.

Perhaps that was far more than you were expecting, but it was as simple and concise as Rosie could make it. She was unwilling to forget any important detail after all, considering that would be the first place to be seen if one was to try and climb the strange tower.

A winged demon in Rosie's retinue had told her what they had found about the other floors. It wasn't much, considering the reconnaissance had been brief, but it was enough for the Overlord to confirm how much of an amalgam the construct truly was.

The floor above the first seemed to be composed of a 'flooded' (Perhaps enough to wet your feet at best) plain and a massive manor of oriental aesthetics dominating from dry land. Much of the land was covered with trees and plants like bamboo, with a few trees the demon didn't know about, but was sure shouldn't appear in what he called 'A Japanese landscape fitting of a stereotypical movie set in the Edo period, or something'.

Fire claimed the third floor, together with an apparently expanding savanna, sparse trees, a couple water sources and a lone rustic house made of clay or something similar. Apparently you could even feel the heat if you came too close, so Rosie was already sure she wouldn't try to approach that place without some spells or other protection.

Next came a titanic mountain rising tall above the landscape, covered in snow and apparently brimming with minerals that glimmered even from far away and with how 'small' things looked from the outside. A singular large building, reminiscent of ancient Greece, designed to imitate much older architecture, sat atop a plateau near the top. Rather a strange next step from a literal fiery hellhole, but Rosie still had the last one to go through, and it didn't seem to fit anywhere when compared to the other floors.

A city. A deserted, broken city of metal buildings as far as the eye could see. A huge skyscraper, apparently a massive living residence, sat in the middle of the gungray and dead place, with constant dark ash raining from the sky, yet never touching the ground. It was a metallic post-apocalyptic trash heap that would've made a few death cults from Hell salivate at the idea of what could be done within.

Rosie took this in and quickly decided that this wouldn't do, at all. She had been close to ordering her people to try and destroy the base, the energies emanating within, and her possible reputation loss, be damned. At least until she saw something else.

Another demon, not affiliated with Rosie, and equally capable of flying as her own scout, had apparently decided to try their luck with the tower. Rosie would've been angry at the trespasser, hadn't that stupid soul offered proper good information.

Do not try to 'cross' into the tower. Even the most eager in her posse had gulped at the sight, and it was partly thanks to that event that Rosie did not need to remind everyone to stay put.

The demon itself, a sinner from what Rosie could see, had been literally turned into ash once it tried to get into the land within. Rosie could swear she even saw the sinner's soul rise towards Heaven after the sinner's permanent death. It was a far clearer, and apparently intended, effect than what happens when a sinner is killed off a second, and definitive, time, often with weapons designed for that purpose alone. Whether it meant the whole thing that made the sinner was freed through the strange tower's magic, or something else, was at play. Rosie didn't know and wasn't in the mood to guess, nor was she going to sacrifice anyone even remotely useful to test the possibilities right now.

"It is an eyesore." Rosie admitted with a bit of disdain. Unique? Yes. Hers by right? Yes. A spot that would attract outsiders and add to her power in one way or another? Also yes. But it was not what she prided her territory for and, as seen moments ago, it could be used against her people, or even herself. "And too dangerous. Whatever is inside could very well do away with all of you."

The aide opened her mouth for a second, quickly closing her lips as she thought about the matter. "Then… should we wait?"

"..." Rosie stopped, thought for a moment, then smiled. "No." She began to walk, grabbing the lone door's handle as her followers, distant or close, held their breath. "It may be dangerous for you, but this is MINE, my dear, like everything else around here. Make sure everyone stays put for now. Just leave everything else to me and keep any noses that shouldn't wander around here in check."

Her aide bowed quickly. "Of course my lady. We will ensure no one else touches your prize."

Rosie nodded, happy enough with the answer. She then opened the door and saw… a simple corridor, a light, and stairs.

"Hmm…" Rosie walked in, the door closing without a sound. Soon the stench of a holy presence, of something born of Heaven, assaulted her senses. "Disgusting…" She thought with a primal snarl coming close to staining her lips. Angels after Extermination? Not unheard of, but worrying. Still, they were always minor ones. She'd prefer not to deal with them, maybe there wasn't even a single angel here, only the after effect of their meddling. Be as it may however, there was one important factor to consider. "The ground they walk on is now mine. Whoever it is, I'll deal with them."

Thus Rosie walked, calm, collected and one peaceful step at a time. A lady knows to arrive fashionably late after all.

Just when the other side has their back turned.

Unbeknown to her, but still to her benefit, she had taken far too long to be the first to make an appearance. The unexpected visitors in her plot of Hell had their hands full long before Rosie arrived on scene. It all began with a figure waking up, a search as the tower's 'structure' fell into place and, finally, an arrival that would precede the Overlord's own.

"-os -a-e -p."

A groan. Pain. What had happened?

"Ca-o- wak- -!"

A bright flash, then utter darkness.

"Carlos! WAKE UP NOW!"

Carlos' eyes shot open, The first thing he saw was his grandmother's face. The next was the destruction around him, and that took his full attention.

It probably didn't help that he felt rain and cold wind hitting him constantly in the face.

Carlos had more than enough experience with getting hurt to try and get up too quickly. Part of it had to do with his grandmother's training, part of it had to do with him getting bullied. Most of his family got bullied. You think that most of them being rather above average in strength made a difference? Fuck that noise. All of them had been extremely awkward and shy, almost doormats, while growing up. Then all of them got to grow their own personalities however they wanted, with very few of the adults remaining as passive and as easy a target as soon as their teens went by.

Still, this situation was unlike a bully, or a group, trying to screw with you. After all, it is a big step to go from a single asshole to seeing your grandparents' house at ground level very close to a motherfucking cliff and an apparently unending sea on the other side.

Many of the plants had been overturned, though that was only something Carlos could tell from the dirt on the ground, as everything had been 'cleaned', or there had been an attempt at least. There were also a few red dots here and there. Blood. Carlos was not deluded or stupid enough to think otherwise. And considering the windows had blown up, most likely inward, he knew where the blood came from.

He touched his face. He felt a few cuts, but nothing serious. The biggest problem was his balance, as he felt wobbly, as if something had happened and he wasn't sure what. Something to do with his ears? Fuck, he sucked at biology, and he was sure his grandmother taught him this and a lot more things.

"Carlos! Pay attention." And now the irate woman was forcing him to turn around. "We need to get moving."

Carlos gulped as he looked at the older woman. Nearly in her eighties, but still looking rather young for her age. True she wasn't the tall woman in the old photos, barely Carlos' height, but she was close to meter fifty now, her body burned out with age, but powerful in wisdom. Her face once held great beauty, and her hair was like flowing copper while her eyes almost shined like bronze. Now she was wrinkled, old, with graying locks and slightly dulled eyes that had lost none of the sharpness. It was unsurprising from a woman that worked most of her life, had to risk many dangers and pushed her body to birth children even her fifties, a point that could've damaged, or killed, many a woman considering she never got the best medical care.

This wasn't exactly surprising. Pilar had made it clear; The civil war in Spain left her no choice. She lived through a lot of shit and she grew to be imposing for a long time before her body took far too much damage to stay as it was. Such life had its consequences once it passed, and now her might, not as sustainable in a woman the same way it would for a man, had left the aged matriarch a fountain of wisdom, but also a rather frail person, at least in appearance. In a sense it was funny to see someone that fought certain traditions as much as Pilar did back in the day now donning far more traditional and conservative clothes of an age past. Still, the many layers of cloth seemed to have protected her when this, whatever it was, happened.

Right now Pilar had an incredibly deep and even more concerned frown plastered on her face. She was looking outside, she was looking at him, and she was looking at the room on the other side of the vivarium. Luckily the glass that led to the dining room had held.

Not everyone fared as well.

Carlos had only a moment to look, but he saw Enrique and Gonzalo. Enrique had his whole face bandaged, alongside one of his hands. He didn't look hurt on the extreme, but the tallest of the trio probably got a face full of glass considering he was much slower when it came to the reaction time. Gonzalo? Gonzalo was holding one of his arms close to his body. A fracture perhaps? Considering Carlos had been knocked out, probably from some kind of blast, it didn't sound farfetched.

"Ignore them now, Carlos. We have others to find." Pilar shook Carlos from his stupor and guided him to the other exit to the room. "We have to make sure they are okay, Carlos. Get a grip of yourself."

"B-but…" Carlos looked at his cousins. "What about-?"

"Enrique got many cuts, none of which are more than skin deep. His mother is just overbearing. Worst comes to worst, he'll have a few small scars. The big problem was a chunk of glass on that hand, but it didn't cut deep, it just bleeds a lot." Pilar relented as she explained, but didn't lose the edge in her voice. "You and Gonzalo got hit by the blast and, yes, a few pieces of stray glass that didn't do much. He was thrown off against a wall, you hit the ground. I knew you'd be fine, just out for a moment, but your cousin wasn't so lucky. We are sure it is nothing serious, only painful." That done, and Carlos still worried, Pilar pushed. "Now come on. Everyone else is taking care of things. I told them you would accompany me as soon as you got up."

Carlos frowned. 'Told them'. Hah. That meant his grandmother had basically ordered everyone to shut up and deal. Considering how commanding she was, and the shock of it all, she probably had very little pushback. That'd change once everyone calmed down.

Right now something escaped him. Something that did nag at his mind, but he either opted to ignore or, more likely, was still far too stunned and shocked, like the rest of the family, to acknowledge.

Pilar was in full control of things. She had no fear or doubt. This was not experience and previous hardships.

This was an old warrior going through the steps to prevent death on their side.

But right now that knowledge escaped him. All Carlos knew was what he saw; the exit to the vivarium through another room, the corridor that came next and led to the exit, and then…

Grass, rain and gray skies.

Carlos had seen cracks in the walls as he moved through the house with his grandmother, but the outside was clearly close to coming down. The thing had been ripped from wherever it had been, the whole damn house, and then thrown here without a care in the world. With rain, wind, and wet cold in the air, Carlos wasn't sure if the structure was going to hold, or if those inside were safe even if it did.

"Over here!"

Pilar had moved on. Short, no longer as energetic as she once was, and with a physique that had suffered a lot in her old age thanks to the pains of her early life, yet she was still fast and spry. At least enough to make a quick trip to the side of the nearly ruined house, next to a door that led… up?

"What is-?"

"It is a door, a corridor and stairs." Pilar spoke quickly. Whether there was more to it, or it was as simple as she made it, Carlos didn't know. "Here, have this. Hold it close in case… something happens."

A knife.

Carlos stood there for barely a second before taking it. The moment became surreal very quickly, mostly because he took notice of many things at once now that shock after shock was hammering so hard in his mind that he was becoming numb.

First came the knife. The fact that his grandmother was giving him a weapon was more than enough to make everything clear in record time.

At first glance Carlos would say that it wasn't an impressive knife, in fact it was relatively simple. But that was just the first look. A Navaja, a classical Spanish folding blade, was not exactly uncommon around the country after all. Nothing special right away… until Carlos saw the white glow on its edge, the feathery inscriptions near the back and kick parts, as well as a careful engraving of the pearly gates on the bolsters and the body itself. It also felt old, like really old. It was a strange sense of reverence, as if the thing he was holding was at least two hundred years older than him, yet that was unlikely. In perfect condition as it looked to be, it also looked used, REALLY used, and a heavily used folding knife certainly did not have that long to live.

Next came the fact that his perception was warped. Or as warped as it could be the moment you noticed you were seeing everything as a cartoon.

This may sound insane and, well, you are right, it does sound insane. In fact it sounds like someone that would be able to shake hands with a gas mask wearing pyromaniac mercenary with a fondness for strange fantasy worlds full of wacky adventures while in reality he is murdering a town. BUT! Insanity aside, this was the honest truth.

His hands were… animated. Or not so much 'animated' as what you could consider an 'hyper ideal' perception of them. Colored, cartoony, pastel, strange. They were weird, yes, more fitting for a tv show for kids, but still his hands. He could still feel them, feel himself, his clothes, and the rain. It was all as normal as they should be. Nothing had changed. He was not a 'cartoon', he was very much human and feeling things as they should be. It was just that the world was perceived differently for reasons he could not exactly explain.

All that was largely unimportant however. Yes, a weapon being handed to him was surprising, troubling even, more so considering the strangeness it made Carlos feel. Similarly, his warped perception was both an interesting development as well as a troubling event.

More surprising was just how readily Carlos took the weapon in his hand and felt himself preparing his body for a fight.

Unnatural ease, that is how he'd describe it. It felt normal, yet strange. It brought a quick comparison with his new way of seeing things. Aspects that should not have a place in reality; hyper idealization and extreme competence, both popping out of nowhere, with Carlos' subconscious bringing red flags, yet pushing him forward as if it was normal while questions piled in his mind. The average person would've stopped everything and asked for an explanation, considering Pilar seemed far too calm for what was going on.

Was Pilar agitated? Yes. Nervous? Yes. But not for the same reasons her own grandson, Carlos, and probably everyone else at home, was freaking out. No, she seemed far too chill for a situation that screamed against the senses.

Despite all common sense, Carlos was ready to just follow her every command as soon as Pilar opened her mouth once more.

"We are going upstairs, my child." Pilar broke Carlos from his trance, opening the door leading to an illuminated and utilitarian corridor that led to stairs leading upwards. "I would've preferred for your cousins to be able bodied, but they must rest for a second."

"What about Rosa, or Javier? He is the oldest among us." Carlos found himself asking at last. Those weren't the most important questions in his mind, but they were the first to come. "Or what about…"

"Your mother's side is not made for this, Carlos. They were never meant to see any of what is going to happen, just you and perhaps your sister." There was a gruffness in Pilar's voice. It seemed that this point, that someone not related to her was mixed in this, did not sit well with her. "As for Javier and Rosa? Javier ignored all attempts to train, devout as he is. That is why he is of no use right now. And Rosa? Rosa has the marks of a healer, not a warrior, not that she ever took what I said seriously." Pilar seemed to frown at this. "It is a pity that she never took to physical training either, but all aid shall be welcome soon enough." Considering all important queries answered, Pilar faced the corridor once more. "And you may be asking, 'What about my own children'. Well… you know full well only one of them follows my teachings, and she, sadly, took after one of her father's gifts; the gift of 'seeing', and that is all she ever showed promise for. Besides, she elected to focus on her family life instead of my teachings." The older woman sighed, clearly unhappy, but well aware that the past is the past. There were other things that demanded her attention right now. "But enough about that. Now come. Your aunts and uncles may need help."

Certainly Pilar should know that more questions were floating around in Carlos' mind, but she also knew, or so Carlos figured, that speed was key. At least that is what he hoped, because his mind was going a mile a second now and running upstairs, following an unknown path in an unknown land, was making Carlos' newfound apparent discipline falter.

He felt his grip tighten on the weapon. A navaja's grip fits comfortably in the user's hand, more so if custom made, something not all that difficult considering that even today there were a few professionals that made their living with such craft around the country. This one wasn't made for him. It may've been made for his grandmother in her heyday, or perhaps someone else now long gone, but not for him. In fact it was a bit larger than he felt comfortable at first, yet now, moments after being handed down to him, it fit in his grip like a glove. The only thing that hadn't changed was the still extended blade, being nearly twenty inches in length and very clearly not meant to fit within the navaja's body. But no, sense and reason didn't seem to have a hold of even that, for as he folded it the blade receded into its resting position in an unnatural yet fluid and perfect fit.

Carlos chose that moment to ignore further strangeness. His grandmother said someone needed help, so he chose to focus on that.

Pity that he momentarily forgot how the people she said to help were her aunts and uncle. A less temporarily addled mind would've considered that an extra layer of strangeness and worry. Probably would've prepared him for the blaze of heat he'd feel as soon as they made it to the end of the stairs. Not that it would've done him a lot of good considering his grandmother opened the door a mere moment after they made it, no warning given.

A blue glow covered his body alongside Pilar's own. His grandmother, upon opening the door, did something Carlos couldn't catch before fire tried to consume the pair. Instead of ending as a smoldering heap, the fire washed away, dissolving into nothing, adding more and more questions to the pile Carlos intended to ask. Had he been more attentive he would've seen his grandmother prepare, he would've seen the gestures, or heard her voice as she spoke words that, granted, he wouldn't have recognized. Maybe he could've asked, gained some insight, but he didn't do that.

Instead, he walked. He walked because his grandmother did the same thing, intent on seeing this new… land?

It was a savanna. Carlos hadn't seen the biome in person, considering he was born and stayed mostly in a coastal area with a dense forest nearby, rather similar to the place they came from moments prior. This one was far closer to the typical things you saw on documentaries from certain areas of Africa, though; sparse trees, high grass in areas, a pond here or there, maybe a river in the distance? It was the kind of place you'd say a pride of lions, maybe a rhino or two, or elephants, should reside. That is what Carlos thought at first.

The constant fires spouting from the ground weren't supposed to be there however. None of them were randomly spawning, spreading, or so much as crackling. They were all… stagnant; still in their area, not trying to reach further, but still burning so hot Carlos could see them melting steel if you'd dare get such material close to the unnatural flames. Whatever Pilar had done, whatever trick or magic she had employed, Carlos was very thankful, because this place would've been impossible to traverse otherwise. It was already bad enough to see a perfectly normal tree apparently engulfed in flames and okay, much like a few areas of grass, or even some of the nearby flat sections with nothing to burn.

But water? That was a bit too much. For Christ's sake. One of the small ponds looked like someone had smeared napalm over the water for it to burn like that.

Absurdity and impossibility aside, things that Carlos didn't even want to try and comprehend right now, there was a place apparently normal. It was that area his grandmother was aiming for.

A rustic house. Or perhaps it was better to call it traditional? Yes, likely, after all the place wasn't what you'd expect when the word 'rustic' came to mind. This house was made with clay and finely decorated, not brick and mortar, and was clearly fashioned in a way that was more local to some residents of Africa. Simple, time consuming and probably far beneath many of the most uptight members of society, true, but it was rather beautiful to behold and a testament to what can be achieved with some effort and ingenuity. Certainly far more appealing than all the fire, heat, and apparent permanently sunrise in the horizon.

At first glance the house was basically a large block of clay with windows, white finish on the outside with diamonds painted everywhere, as well as a few different figures and signs Carlos did recognize, but couldn't fully describe as he came closer. He was sure he had seen this place before. Not the area itself, as a fire consumed landscape certainly didn't bring memories to bear, but the house. It was far too distinct to confuse it for anything else.

The thing looked big enough for maybe two, three people? He couldn't judge right away, but it wasn't immense, that is for sure. At least that is what he thought until they made it to the door and his grandmother up and knocked with firmness only seen in Pilar the moment she lost her patience, or something needed doing, NOW.

Either was a possibility, to be honest. What she said was not, or Carlos had thought so until she heard her say the words.

"Yolanda! Yolanda! Open right now!"

Yolanda was in Africa. Yolanda couldn't be here. Right? Carlos' mind took his grandmother's actions as the old woman losing her mind at last. Then he took a moment to think it over. There was a fucking savanna and big ass fires everywhere. His grandparents' home was full of his family, had been ripped out of its original place, and dropped in front of a cliff. There were also stairs to what looked like different lands appearing from the damn ground and going into nothingness into the air.

When Yolanda opened the door, confirming that Pilar wasn't going insane or something, Carlos had finally admitted to himself that this was perfectly possible, or at least normal, as far as he knew.

It wasn't him going insane. The world was. And everyone was spiraling down with it.

"Mom?!" Yolanda made a whisper mixed with a scream. "How can you be out like that!? It is scorching hot outside the house!"

Yolanda was the second youngest of Pilar's children, and an easy mark to show how much variation was in her children.

Of Pilar's children, all but two were relatively tall and most of them were rather broad. Yolanda was wiry, short at around 1.55 meters of height, lacked any muscle and had very feminine features while having developed little through her thirty nine years among the living. This meant that Yolanda always looked rather youthful, but also flat, with her most attractive features being coppery eyes and long flowing hair that came closer to red than it did brown with how the sun reflected on it, but was clearly still inherited mostly from her mother.

She was rather conservative with her attire and mannerism however, a bit of a prude and a bore if you were to ask most people. Even here, supposedly far away from the rest of the family, in a place where heat was a problem even before she landed amidst apparently eternal fire, she wore old fashioned gowns that covered almost everything but her face and hands. While she was opposed to her mother in many ways she did believe as much as Pilar did, and she could easily pass as a bible thumper if the topic was brought up.

Right now however, as she had demonstrated many times in the past when things became hectic, she lacked the nerves to hold her own amidst the chaos around her. She looked nervous, her face showing fear, and the fact that she had only barely opened the door to greet Pilar and Carlos openly started she wasn't going to do more even for them, at least not unless Pilar put her foot down.

"Stop shaking, child." Pilar instead opted for the tired, and disappointed, motherly tone she used when she had been let down. "The fire won't hurt anyone touched by His will."

Yolanda frowned for a second, almost mimicking Carlos' confusion. "But… your stories said such things couldn't happen without there being an evil presence, or one of His agents."

"There are none of His agents here, not yet. I am sure He'll send someone soon however. It will not do for us to be stranded here." Pilar's face morphed into a clear scowl of disgust and anger. There were other things she wanted to say, that much was clear, but apparently the moment was not right. "We are in the realm of the fallen ones, my child. We are in Hell."

Perchance the sound of glass breaking could've been one of the house's windows. The possibility was there.

Carlos thought it was his mind finally giving up.

"How?"

His voice finally mouthed a simple, but rather complex question, all at the same time.

Pilar seemed at least in the mood to share. "None of you have ever felt it, I can tell that much. But I have had experience with Fell energies long before I settled down, and a few times after my marriage." She explained, not taking her eyes from Yolanda as her youngest daughter slowly opened the door to her house. "But this is different. No mortal has traversed Hell in many years, and at best we have had to deal with the very borders of this realm through portals or other means that invaded our world. The energies from this cursed place can have very detrimental effects when they are allowed to roam free, or when they touch humans, although the living aren't necessarily susceptible... You can see a way that this energy, the chaotic remains of demons, affect mortal things."

Carlos turned around. Were the fires truly caused by what his grandmother called 'demonic' energies? They certainly looked natural, if you ignore how they didn't seem to be burning what they touched despite the heat felt before and what little he could feel now. He did know better than to try and approach one himself however, that'd be a very stupid 'experiment'. Whatever his grandmother had done had made sure he didn't feel too hot when compared to the temperature around, but he wasn't going to try and grab a flame.

"I had to deal with a few devils in my time, although most of my work had to do with humans still clinging to the Devil's words and bringing forth lesser creatures." Pilar continued with her tale, turning to face the now confused Carlos. "I know of magic, and the way demons and demonic followers use it. And yet, despite my experience, I did not manage to feel its foul taint around the house until it was far too late. While not an excuse I can safely admit I was not prepared: I am not the most well versed in magic, for I was a more physical warrior of the light in my prime. I do have experience however, so I could 'feel' the pull of a portal, but it was mixed with far too many other feelings and sensations I do not understand and could not describe when it comes to the foul magic of Inferno." A quick glance around told Carlos that his grandmother did not know how this much land could've ended here either. "I do not have all the answers, but I know for sure that we all should be together. We are to prepare for whatever is to happen."

Yolanda took a look into her house for a moment. "Does that mean I should gather my children and husband? Is… is it safe outside?"

"No, no it isn't safe yet, but you should come anyway." Pilar asserted as she eyed the flames around the area. "This is not where we should be. An old spell all of those in our position should know, one simple enough to master for someone with my experience, serves to locate other presences like us. Most of us were at the 'base' of whatever place we are in, while your older sister was atop of us, Yolanda, with you being higher, and your brother near the top."

Carlos and Yolanda shared a look before the woman spoke up. "But… Olga isn't here." Not that there wasn't any need to point it out. "She… she is in Japan and-."

"And you in Africa, yet here we are. Try to remember what I said: We are in Hell, and its magic is chaotic and hard to control, more so for mortals. Even a simple misstep could cause unfathomable effects, child." This time Pilar motioned to the world outside. "We aren't in the right place in this strange new land, but you are here and that is what we have to focus on. We will see how it all works, later. So bring your family and we'll get moving."

Yolanda seemed about to contradict her mother, but she quickly thought better of it. This all was just plain wrong. You didn't need to be the smartest creature alive to understand that much. If her mother seemed to know what she was doing, and as all her children knew to obey Pilar when things got out of hand, then Yolanda would cave in.

Carlos was far more curious, but his grandmother beat him to the punch.

"Keep the knife close." Pilar didn't need to look at him to see Carlos holding the folded navaja tight to his side. "Whatever happens, follow your instincts as best as you can. Of all my descendants you are the only one with the most basic training completed. All I have left is what little magic I know, and it tires me greatly." Carlos hadn't noticed before, but the sure and firm Pilar had been swaying ever so slightly since they had arrived here. It had become lessened as the talk progressed, though. It was as if Pilar was getting used to the strain on her body, and that was both impressive and scary. "I may be able to extend this blessing to everyone else this once, but that is it. I can't do more than that. The others don't even know how to use their gift, Carlos. Do not let anyone get hurt."

The young man frowned. Him? With that much responsibility? After fucking up so royally that he was now a shadow of his former self? That had to be a joke.

When his grandmother didn't laugh, Carlos had the sinking feeling that she was being serious.

Perhaps this place was sweltering, but the heat was not what made the young man start to sweat as his mouth dried up.

Far away from Pentagram City, at that exact moment, a lone car was driving through the highway towards the prime target of Exterminations in the Wrath ring.

The vehicle itself had once been a scrap car; refuse with the shape of a car, vaguely. Perhaps it had been impressive, once, or maybe it had been utilitarian. Whatever the case, it had been found as little more than garbage, a pile of nothing that had been reborn into a civilian grade tank. Plates of armor on the sides, an armored plow like ram on the front, floodlights strong enough to blind on top, barbed wire surrounded the roof while a retractable gun was hiding on the trunk and the overall weight and thickness of the body, not to say anything of the wheels, had nearly doubled. That meant the engine itself was touched up to the point of being a massive hazard to anyone trying to drive this death trap, but in Hell this could've been considered both art, and relatively tame.

Its driver was an imp; a short, strong woman with carmine skin, black hair with a single, broad white line going through the middle, as if imitating a badger's fur, and with yellow eyes focused on the road. By all accounts she could be described as a 'shortstack'; barely scraping above three feet seventy seven perhaps? It probably came close to roughly a meter fifteen in height or so, IF she made it that far. But with huge breasts that wobbled at the very intention of movement, a massive ass that firmly set her in place in the driver's seat and proportions that only made her look both more incredibly sexual, and somewhat unnatural, at least in human terms. She was the true definition of a 'shortstack'.

She had the muscles to keep it all together however. The woman was a mechanic, and she was buff, tough and had many small white scars here and there, provided by cuts, crushes, blunt impacts and other hazards that involved mechanical contraptions. People from the Wrath Ring, the birthplace of Imps, were usually of similar complexion, with different hues of reds, mostly short, pointy horns and brutal, direct, and warlike personalities.

Zana was no different. With birthing hips, soft but work stained features, and all the right equipment to create a new brood if she so elected, she was a perfect example of her people. Not so common were her long, backward facing horns, with broad white stripes instead of the thin ones females of her kind had. This meant either she had once changed things about her, either by choice, need, or desire, or, as it was a more common case, and the particular one for her, the imp had been born with both sets of equipment and adolescence had guided the growth to be either more 'male' or 'female'. Not that her massive endowments had passed her very much prominent male parts bulging in her pants. If it wasn't for her lack of wings, a telltale sign of Lust breed imps, and her clearly arrow shaped tail without any extras, you'd think her origin had been any other but Wrath itself.

That little detail would be secondary though. The jacket with ripped off sleeves, the sunglasses, the sawn off shotgun, biker pants, black shirt and the general pissed off demeanor coming from the mechanic would've been far more telling of her origin and willingness to split someone in half. And not in a fun way, considering the clear annoyance emanating from her.

"We have an hour or two until we get there. You got a plan ready?"

Zana's voice had a clear ring to it. Anyone first hearing it would clearly notice, and it was far more prominent now than on the phone. It was far too grave for a woman, and a clear indication that she had grown more like a boy before her… differences showed up at some point. After years of awkward teenage life, hormones, growth and practice, it was not as obvious, not that anyone needed her voice to tell the whole story.

Well, unless you caught her from behind that is.

"No, no I don't." And Leonor sure didn't give much of a shit right now. "Are you going to lecture me about it or something?"

The shark woman was clearly not in her best state of mind. The itch on her eye was growing, and the apprehension was gripping at her mind. Every time a car sped by, coming or going, she could see the ghostly images of her previous colleagues looking at her.

Impossible, yes, but a worried and paranoid mind cares not.

"You are a fucking mess, girl." Zana took a turn, the heavy car knocking up a few scattered bones from the road and into the red grass outside. Fucking scavengers caused a lot of accidents leaving their refuse around like that. "Get your head in the game. I don't want to get jumped because I am helping you."

Leonor grimaced. At any other point in time this could've devolved into something more than words, so short was her patience. Then again, that was most demons. But right now? She couldn't really afford it. Considering Zana was her only way out of the mess she was into, and the simple and clear fact that the imp was right, acting up would get her thrown off the damn car while it was still running. She did not doubt Zana would be more than willing to leave her as a skidmark if she tried something after all. The imp was much smaller than her, but imps were far more dangerous than most people living in Hell wanted to admit. More importantly: You did not let any demon from Wrath get close in a fight, ever.

A quick look back made Leonor wish for the car to have more space. Sure, it had two more seats on the back, but the middle space had been fitted to sport support for the gun Zana had back there. A shame, because Leonor's head was killing her and the tinted, reinforced glass was perfect for a nap. Not that Zana would allow her to do that much, but a girl can dream.

Besides, she was fucked as it was already. Wasting time sleeping when she wasn't sure if she was going to survive the day was counterproductive.

"My best bet is going for one of the more, shall we say, 'relaxed' spots." Leonor gave up and thought aloud. Perhaps Zana had a suggestion somewhere. "You live in Imp City and probably have more info on them than I do."

Zana hummed for a second as she eyed the rear view with a frown. "The most I can tell you right now is to get the fuck away from Valentino's place. That asshole is perfectly fine so long as you bend over when he says and how he says, but it is no secret that the asshole may even deem a slight movement or your clothes being imperfect as an offense big enough for a bitch slap, not to speak of what he can do if you don't give him most of what you earn. Being a whore for him is the best you can hope around his place. So long as he doesn't just pummel you and ruin your looks." The imp grimaced. "If you are lucky…"

Leonor didn't need to know more. In fact this was no news. Valentino wasn't one of the oldest Overlords, but he was a messed up piece of work. There were many Overlords, many demons, with far worse fame, but most of them would just kill you, maybe even torture you and THEN kill you. Valentino preferred to abuse, in ways that even the hellborn considered disgusting. Still, this was Hell. Disgust was all fine and dandy. But that shit? The fact that many saw it as worth killing the insectoid Overlord was all perfectly good, but no one was going to do shit about it.

An Overlord, even a weak one, was hard to kill and had ease fighting even proper demons if they had been human before, or they were even more dangerous now if they had been hellborn. Leonor was not going to test Valentino's willingness to make some damaged goods like her into a broken doll. She was sure he wouldn't even allow her the chance to self delete if she decided to ever show her 'pretty face' around. Fuck, worst came to worst he'd use Leonor in a damn snuff film. She didn't put it past the fucker.

"So yeah, there are many Overlords that come and go every year, same in Imp City." Zana went on as she saw a pair of cars slowly slide into pace behind her. "A few have stayed for a while and I could tell you about them, though I guess you'd be more aware and interested in those from Pentagram. Fuck, you probably know about some of them way more than I do. I hear a few do business with other rings."

"If by business you mean trying to screw each other, then yeah." Leonor chuckled ruefully. "I am sure you remember your time in Greed fondly."

Zana grumbled. "Fuck off."

"Ignoring that, you remember a few of the 'problems' popping up around Greed at the time I got ahold of you?" All Leonor got in answer was a middle finger before Zana refocused on the road. "I see you do." Leonor groaned as her eye acted up again. Fast healing did not mean the nerves stopped sending signals. Whoever made demonkind was an asshole as far as she was concerned. "Well, let's skip that part then. A few overlords decided to use locals when it came to some of their deals and whatnot. My group was one of the many that 'dealt' with them, before I got attention drawn onto me and put in charge."

"That is all fine and dandy." Zana nodded, preferring to forget that period of her life. The cars following her were a good distraction, if you could call them that. "But it doesn't answer the question."

"I know, but the point is that there were a few names thrown around more often than others." Leonor finally took notice of Zana's many glances to the mirror and the cars behind them. Now there were three. "Rosie and Alastor were rather prominent. While the Radio Demon had some influence down there, it was mostly to cause a ruckus the moment Rosie's people got jumped as they acquired certain things of interest for their lady. I don't know why anyone would do anything to entertain that weird fuck, but the time spying was useful." The shark woman brought a hand to her side. Zana had given her some ammo, and the cars were getting closer. "It helped me learn that at least Rosie is willing to employ whoever is useful, be it demon, sinner, or even a few mortals in the human world. She goes so far as to not eat them, unless they piss her off. Considering she is at least friends with Alastor, trying to kiss her ass and make up for past 'misunderstandings' may be my best bet."

"Getting roped into Overlord business doesn't exactly spell 'escape', Leonor. And there are enough crazy assholes willing to do whatever Alastor tells them, not that he'd care much about most of them." Zana took her sawn off with one hand. One of the cars was getting awfully close and slowly inching next to her window. "Also, just so you know."

The pursuer finally caught up, windows lowering quickly to reveal a few Sinners, one of which had an automatic weapon of some kind in her grip. It was 'unknown' insofar as Zana was a lot quicker, her window open in a second, as she brought her shotgun to bear, unloading two solid slugs that went through the fallen soul in front and then the driver behind her. A brutal and gory scene that was just the beginning of this new mess Leonor had dragged her into.

That car swerved, crashed and burned, followed by the next pursuer as Zana crashed her car to the left, crushing the front of the second car and sending it barreling somewhere in the distance before it got stopped by something. The horrifying screech of metal bending and bones cracking was lost in the air as more cars came into view, the third pursuer speeding up.

"It is YOU who owes me now, bitch." Zana passed her gun to the other demon. "Ammo is in the glove box. Reload it and forget that peashooter of yours, then get ready. I am going to deploy the rear gun and you are a better shot than me. Do keep the damn revolver handy though, I bet my ass we'll need that gun again. Just try to shoot anyone that comes for us and I'll try to drive us closer to the Cannibal Colony." The imp looked at the looming city on the horizon. "If nothing else, you are right: It is better than most other places, more so if we drag some of these assholes as tribute for those smiling uptight bottom feeders. Otherwise we may end up as the main course meal."

As Leonor reloaded the gun she couldn't help but grimace. Had her boss hired Sinners of all things? No… most likely he had used their debts as leverage. They'd come back, no matter how many times they died. Zana had no Exorcist weapons, or anything from Hell powerful enough to put them down forever, much less for longer than a day, perhaps a week at most depending on the damage. Now, the cannibals? They had their ways of making sure the food stopped squirming.

Zana pressed a hidden button and Leonor felt the back of her seat fall back as the rear gun deployed. A quick glance away from the weapon and to their pursuers told her that her boss was going to burn through a lot of debtors to simply get to her. More and more cars were getting close, and these were definitely not just demons and Sinners moving to Pentagram.

Well, at least it would be easy to pay Rosie a literal pound of meat for safe passage, because there was no fucking way they could get rid of that many people before they made it.

More importantly. Would they MAKE it? Leonor didn't know, but she wasn't going to just give up.