Year I - Act I - Laws of corruption - Chapter III.
"The stairs are full of soot."
Carlos was waiting with his cousin, Jamba, next to the stairs that went upwards. Their grandmother said that going down right now 'felt wrong', whatever she meant. So going up was the alternative. Luckily for them, the stairs up were closer than the ones leading down. In fact they were behind their house, close enough for the flames to still avoid the area.
"I can see that." Jamba hummed. His hand was covered full of the stuff, and it looked like the thing didn't want off. "Are we really going up there?"
Jamba was a massive man. Not exceedingly tall, but a good head above Carlos was more than tall enough. His skin was lighter than that of his father (Which wasn't saying much considering Zaid was almost literally black), making him still exceptionally dark skinned, and even then the shoot covering his hand was noticeable. Generally Jamba was a very friendly man, though he did suffer from a mean 'resting bitch face' that made him look permanently angry, or at least pissed off. Shame, considering that Carlos had to admit his cousin was otherwise a magnet of attention. He had strong features however, with a big, broad nose and prominent lips that did not make things better, considering he had a look relatively similar to Cobra Bubbles, a comparison that usually pissed him off (even if they laughed about it later) whenever Carlos or one of their cousins talked with him.
He was bald like his father, yes, something some people may consider negative, but he also had deep brown eyes that had small, orange hues here and there, making them look, as some'd say, 'exotic'. He was muscular, with a wide back and had a very deep voice for a young man the age of twenty years old. Jamba was also very formal, respectful, barely cursed and could be considered a gentleman in many places, while others would simply call him old fashioned and boring. It was a bit of a contrast with his physical appearance, but not enough to hide the obvious: Jamba was a strong man, gentle in demeanor, but very, very dangerous if he needed to be. The previous comparison with a cartoon character wasn't made only for fun; he could, and he had, broken people's bones when needed.
His only problem was the fact that he did not know what to do with his life and was generally a very silent person that did not voice his opinion. Even his family didn't know where he stood with most things, and Jamba was in no hurry to make things clear.
"Supposedly." Carlos tore his eyes away from the dark dust falling from his cousin's skin. For some reason it made him shiver. "Maybe someone else will be up there."
"But it is dirty."
The whiny voice had good reasons to be like that. Mostly because Jamba's younger sister, Nuru, was a neat freak, sometimes making people think things went even further than that with just how much she despised, even feared, the idea of getting dirty.
Two years younger than her brother, much shorter, and far too much like Yolanda in some areas, Nuru was still a very sweet girl. True that she had a few problems here and there, mostly to do with how she greatly favored Spanish culture above the culture of her own birthplace. Her antics and mannerism made some of the locals… nervous, or just tired at her constant use of Spanish, as if everyone should know the damn language. But she was a general ball of happiness and positivity that cared for everyone around her.
So long as no dirt, or worse, came near her in a place dirt should not be.
This reflected in her own self care and image too. Long flowing reddish hair that was far closer to a natural redhead than her mother, amber colored eyes like her father, Nuru had the petite form of her mother and her soft features, with skin much clearer in tone to boot. She was a much more even mix than her brother in that regard, making it hard to pinpoint where one part of her began and ended. Sadly for her, that meant that her very active attempts at finding a partner hadn't been fruitful, and that was being nice.
No prominent lips, very tiny and perky nose, close to her mother's, few attributes to show and her lithe form seemed to throw off many of the boys she had tried to court. That, and her extroverted nature, didn't help. Not that her figure could've been seen much considering that, like her mother, she dressed very conservatively with clothes she kept in the best condition she could, at the detriment of other people's patience in some cases. Even with fire, dust and now soot falling from the stairs, Nuru was doing the impossible to keep her clothes from being dirtied in the slightest.
"And it is the only way out." Her brother didn't seem to care though. "Grandmother says we go up, so we go up. Remember to respect and obey your elders' words, sister. Finding something 'icky' isn't going to cut it here."
Nuru sighed and bowed her head slightly. "Yes, brother." But it was clear her enthusiasm was anywhere but on this. She'd much prefer to stay near the fires than go into the dirt.
"Chin up, little one." The other three members of this 'excursion' finally returned, Zaid at the head. "If you ever go into the medical field this'll be nothing." A white, toothy grin offered, Nuru smiled brightly at his father.
Slightly taller than his son, the man was the splitting image of Jamba, only older and slightly taller. In his early forties, with a welcoming expression always on his face, the only big difference between father and son, amber eyes like his daughter, and an impressive physical build that'd make you think of anything other than a calm, collected and very friendly doctor, Zaid was a person anyone could get along with. His only pet peeve was his family, and anyone trying to touch them had learned very well just how easy bones can be broken when you know where to push.
Violence was far from the man's first option however. His charming looks weren't the only thing he had going for him, nor his brains, but his immense charm. Professionalism, good manners, no swears, clothes that made him look like a businessman but with mannerism that could touch almost anyone, and that flashing smile sealed the deal. It was easy to say the guy was the whole package; not incredible, but well above average in most aspects.
If you ignore the fact that he was simply horrible at remembering anything he didn't consider very important. So he was a mess at cleaning, cooking, any other chore you'd think of, was horrible at driving and… Well, he had his specialization, exceeded in it, was very nice and you better not ask for much more.
Hey, at least his wife made sure he didn't kill himself. That was a winning combination. That, and it was funny to call him 'Uncle Louis', considering the man loved a particular zombie game and said character, even if he was far more similar to the man his son was compared with.
"Uncle, aunt, grandma." Carlos gave a quick nod. "The soot is very dense here. It… It won't be a problem, right?"
"It is not soot." Pilar spoke, getting closer. "It is rust… very dark, but it is rust. I know that smell." She made a face as she tried to get rid of the soot in her hand. "Clingy, rotten, wet. Perhaps as a result of this chaotic place."
Nuru made a face before her mother spoke up. "Should we go up then?" She looked at the walls of the corridor and the stairs beyond the door. "Was… was the one leading here burnt or something?"
Carlos shook his head "No, it was fine. I didn't even feel more than a temperature rise before we opened the door. There was no ash, or burn marks. These stairs are just full of the darn stuff."
"Then… maybe someone opened ours?" Yolanda tried to look beyond, but the ceiling covered the entrance.
"Perhaps." Was all Pilar said before giving Carlos a stern look. "Weapon." The young man nodded, blade snapping to attention. No one there thought it would do much good, but it was at least some comfort. "I can feel this is the top of this 'land', but nothing beyond that. If there is something there other than our family, then be ready."
Carlos heard someone gulp, but didn't know who. His cousin got close to him as their grandmother went ahead, in case her strange abilities were needed. Uncle Zaid covered for his wife and daughter. A 'formation' made, the group began to climb.
The crunch of the 'soot' made it clear that, yes, it was rust. Very fine rust, but with a few large pieces were found here and there, generally covered under a dense layer of the powdered stuff. The sharp sound of decayed metal breaking down made everyone tense up whenever it happened, more out of fear of the stairs themselves being corroded or corrupted enough to break down and… Send them into the darkness? They did not know, nor did they want to think about it.. They did not stop though, because Pilar kept moving once it was clear nothing was happening.
Beyond the dirty artificial darkness around them, and the lights flickering a bit, unlike the previous corridor Carlos had seen, the similitudes were perfect. Had he bothered to count, he'd discover the stairs were similar in the number of steps until they made it to the door. Everything from the number of lights, the architecture, simplistic as it was, and the doors. All details within the passages were the same. These passageways were made uniform, not chaotic as his grandmother said a Hellish concocted structure or spell should be.
Well, there was one difference in this one: The door being open.
"Grandma." Carlos felt the urge to push forward as soon as everyone made it to the final stretch, and Pilar allowed him. A part of his mind told Carlos that this was stupid, but something far more powerful pushed him forth. "I'll go in first."
There was nothing but a nod coming from Pilar as the world stood still. Carlos came closer to the door, opened it and…
Ash. It was raining ash on the other side.
The ash itself didn't touch the ground, but Carlos could see an incredible amount raining from the sky. Tall buildings of not stone, concrete, brick or mortar, but rotten metal hung around him like abandoned husks in a decayed world. The streets themselves were paved in what now looked like rust, and the roads had at one point been steel, now covered with the same crunchy soot that populated the stairs.
It was a scene fitting of the apocalypse. A hollow shell of a city that looked like it'd fit something like Silent Hill. Everything was empty, deserted even, with rotting metal furniture, the hollow sound of wind rustling the flying ash and scraps of metal so rusted and light they flew around like dry leaves during Autumn. It was a sad, empty visage that, for some reason, made Carlos want to tear up for a second or two before his grandmother and everyone else joined him.
It took a couple seconds for one of them, Zaid, to speak. "This looks… wrong. Even more than our home."
No one said anything else for a moment or two as they caught sight of all Carlos had seen. That is until Carlos noticed the tallest building that was located right behind them.
"Hey… any of you know where Carmen lives?" He asked, not even thinking about it.
"Your uncle's wife?" Yolanda turned, an eyebrow raised. "I don't think your parents can stand the woman, I know I certainly wouldn't be my nice self if I had to spend more than an hour in her presence. Why would we know anything about her?"
Fair enough, or so Carlos thought. But right now the question was rhetoric as he pointed at the skyscraper. "Because I think she lived here."
Well, not in 'here'. This building was taller, but the outside was almost a replica of the 'Unison Pillar'. The place was a high end hotel with some permanent suites for certain people that paid big money, mostly for the clout of it all. The city Carmen lived in ran through people very quickly, sometimes making it look as if most people there were just 'disposables'. Buying, selling, renting, nothing was permanent. There was a lot of tourism and everything from single rooms to whole buildings exchanged hands a bit too quickly in Carlos' honest opinion.
Carmen was a damn bloodsucker however, always had been, even if she had been far less acidic in the past. Hell, if you asked around most people would tell she had been a lot of other things, few of them good. But that was unimportant now. She was adept when it came to buying, selling and rebranding property however. Of course she didn't speak a lick of English, neither did most of her family. She just stuck to the large section of the city that had latinos and spanish immigrants, leaving her helper, and translator, to read whatever script she prepared beforehand. Credit where credit's due, Carmen did make a massive amount of money, and money opened a lot of doors in the right situation.
But he was getting derailed. Back on topic: The surface of the building WAS decayed. VERY decayed. Still, the name plaque in front did read 'Unison Pillar', only the U was half rotten on the right side, the N had fallen to the ground and the S was… nowhere to be seen. Considering the barbs that seemed to grow on the building itself, some form of corrupted metal that menaced downwards, as if trying to stab the streets below, the name fit. 'Lion Pillar'. Yeah, if by 'Pillar' you meant a lion's di-.
"If any of those things fall, we are dead." Jamba had his head straight in the game, thankfully. Perhaps a bit negative, but he was right. "I… don't think we should stay too long. Are we breathing metal shards?"
"Had we been doing that you'd know by now." Pilar hadn't paid attention to the building itself, just the area around them. "There is enough here to shred our lungs, my child." She let out a near imperceptible sigh. "Our protection is assured however, but it may be time for you to live to the name of Onyilogwu, my dear." And then, under her breath, she added. "In fact it may be time for the whole family to pick up the slack."
Jamba frowned. "Why mention that, grandmother?"
"Because the luxury of choice is no longer there." Pilar allowed the group to stew on it as one by one they turned her way. "Child, let me ask you a very straightforward question: Do you think I would've allowed your mother to scamper away from me considering how strict I can be? Do you think it was easy for me to allow all my children happiness instead of duty? Your father's side of the family is like mine, you should know this by now. In your case the name, and its meaning, shows exactly what role you may serve if we are to survive."
Yolanda seemed to grow nervous. Zaid himself looked confused. Carlos and Nuru were sharing looks before they noticed how Jamba was turning from calm to angry.
One thing the young man hated, considering his indecision, was being pressured into something. This, at least to him, sounded like his own grandmother had planned things for him behind his back. Worst of all: They were for something as messed up as this situation. Jamba felt… he felt cheated, and that was putting it lightly.
"Mother." Yolanda came forth, her face morphing into a frown, perhaps even a scowl. "Are you telling me you… that you… you arranged us?!"
"If you mean that I ensured you did not get separated, then yes." The matriarch grimaced at the memory. "The Onyilogwu are a family resistant to powers beyond what mortals can use. Their line was not one mine was meant to tangle with. We are warriors, they are defenders" She kept going, trying to show no clear inflection in her voice. She was just speaking matter of fact it seemed. As if things should be clear. "Your husband's own father was about to force him to cut ties with you. I intervened, and a few of my contacts in the Vatican, mutual friends of our families, ensured he wouldn't pull Zaid away, back to his homeland."
She turned around to face everyone. "You may think me despicable for this, my children. But everything I have ever done, from my marriage to all my lessons and training, was to raise a new generation of Demon Hunters. We are but one part of the Inquisitorial Order, made long, long before the most modern incarnation. Our kind are Holy Warriors in the mortal world, blessed by His envoys back when mankind was still young, with more families being inducted into the Order over the ages. Still, we are few in number and meant to help curb demonic influences and the evil within our souls, even if history paints us as monsters when looking back at the acts our ancestors had to commit." And by the frown she had in her face, it was clear Pilar was angry. Was she angry at the acts? At history's view of them? Or just the fact that they had to be committed to begin with? Carlos didn't know. "Yet as you grew up, as I saw my sisters push their own children to the point many left, all I could do was try to guide all of you to proper partners to make you happy while I keep our blood as strong in the Light as I was able."
Pilar was quick to point from building to building. "Now look at this decrepit thing, that corroded building, the dangerous spire reaching for the sky, trying to pierce that gray cloud of ash." Her frown could only deepen as everyone looked at her worriedly. "We are in HELL, children. Our blood was forged to punish the wicked, and with what little influence I could garner I made sure that your lives were comfortable, at least to the best of my ability. I was weak, sentimental, and put family above duty, even if I did guide us to the right path anyway. Yet it was clearly not enough, and we are likely to pay for my mistakes as Hell may very well consume us." Then, surprising everyone, except perhaps the matriarch, the door leading down closed with a loud slam. "The time for coddling is done. Survival will now be our main focus, so pretenses are no longer needed. That is, if we manage to survive."
Carlos looked at his aunt, then her family. They were all looking at each other in confusion and no small amount of anger. Not surprising, considering that, in a sense, they had been told their life had been planned for them.
It was especially bad for Jamba. Carlos did not know much of his cousin's grandfather, as he had barely any contact with the man and he didn't speak Spanish… or maybe he did, and just didn't want to interact with the rest of Carlos' family. At this point he did not know and the shadow of doubt was not exactly pleasant company.
"Grandma…" Carlos felt his mouth dry as he prepared the question. "Is… Does this mean you do the same with everyone else? With all your children?"
"You mean to ask if I planned all my children's marriages, or if I meddled in them at the very least?" Carlos didn't have time to nod before Pilar gave an honest answer that, sincerely, her grandchild didn't want to hear. "Of course I did, yes."
She then went into detail, not seeing any reason to hide it. "Francisco comes from the 'Labrador' branch of the Order. Farming, fishing, hunting, they were in charge of supply and healing of the land. Raul Caballero was a very distant branch of our 'Guerrero' family, not even blood related in the filial sense for more than two thousand years, but the gift of the Light was strong in him, albeit inactive, so I saw no reason not to keep our blessing strong by bringing him in and reinforcing his blood with ours. As for Enomoto? His family are the 'Kamachi', smiths of great power and renown and capable of forging blessed metal. Mortals without Heaven's gift are largely unable to keep the holy properties of these metals, or bless mundane ones, with few bloodlines able to craft more weapons for us to fight evil. Speaking of weapons, the one in your hand was made by one of Enomoto's ancestors during one meeting from the Order's many branches, centuries ago. You can see why bringing them close would be beneficial. Even if I personally was against mixing with the Japanese branch for… personal reasons."
The news fell like a ton of bricks on Carlos. Mentally speaking, it hurt, and the rest of those present didn't fare any better, in fact it was easy to guess Yolanda was feeling far worse off. But to Carlos this was cutting deep. Was he hopeful before? Yes, but the slimmest of hopes that his own life hadn't been meddled with was now gone. It worsened as he considered the training he had undergone, how much his grandmother had tried to push him, and the likelihood that the hurt she showed when he put his stupid plan in motion, all took a different turn in his mind.
His grandmother hadn't been pushy, or sad, or concerned, for the same reasons a normal grandma would. Her pain and concern came from the obvious care for something 'greater', and she was making sure that he, that EVERYONE present, understood. Hell, she wasn't even done. She kept talking, ignoring the look of pain and betrayal in everyone's faces.
"Hector sadly ignored all possible partners I tried to nudge his way. So the only one of my children to pair outside of the Order's many families was your father, Carlos." Pilar began to approach the group once more, though few of them looked at her the same way they once did. "Mixing blood with outsiders is needed every so often. Even the blessings of Heaven would do little if we don't expand our families beyond the given boundaries, usually when a bloodline is already too weak, or dies. Admittedly, it was my husband who recommended they have a 'chance' meeting; your grandfather is the one with the healer's gift, but also capable with other magic abilities, such as divination." Her face morphed into a smile, one of pride, which did not make Carlos any more confident or brought any happiness. "He has yet to fail in that regard, and, as he predicted, you and your sister came out as strong as the rest of my grandchildren, although your faith is still lacking."
Carlos felt sick to his stomach as his grandmother walked past him, approaching the still closed door. A quick glance at Yolanda and the others made him realize that, maybe, just maybe, they were feeling something similar.
It was a disgusting feeling, there was little else to be said.
Said discomfort, if you could call it just that, lasted very little. Not because he got over it, or because the others saw Pilar's way. It was more of a rather direct interruption from the land itself.
The ground seemed to sift for a second, as if they were feeling a quick and sudden quake that ended just as fast as it came. During the small quake Nuru fell to the ground and she began screaming at the filth that clung to her, making her parents run to try and help the poor girl. Then the tone shifted again as Pilar spoke, cutting the scene in twain, making Nuru fall silent and everyone's eyes focus on the old matriarch.
"This land has… stabilized." Pilar's tone was neutral as she glanced back at the group. "Carlos, to the front. It should be fine now, as I am sure I know what exactly has entered this space, but let's not lower our guard. I could be wrong, or have been deceived. I prefer we opt for caution."
There were many things everyone present wanted to say, and none of them was 'yes' or 'okay'.
Were there questions? Were there doubts? Were there things everyone present wanted to throw at Pilar's face, including insults? Yes. But there was also fear.
Pilar was not a monster, or at least that is what she had proven to all those present. Even now, after the revelation, everyone knew her as a very rational, if strict, and stuck in the old ways, woman. This… revelation, this 'change', outed her as a manipulative, cunning and cold crone in a way. Perhaps it was crazy, but at least Carlos wanted to see it as born out of the desire to maintain traditions and, seeing as they were in a very strange place he still had trouble believing was 'Hell', as a way to protect their family's future.
But it stung. It stung so fucking bad. It was a betrayal, big or small, that would stick for a while.
And Carlos did have a very unhealthy hatred for those that stabbed him in the back.
None of his family forgot a single stab in the back. Whether part of his blood had a more irrational hatred towards people that betrayed them or not did not matter. This was a grudge, and he, for very good reasons, learned through harsh lessons that had made him the person he was today, was beyond unwilling to let them go.
As such the walk downstairs was very quiet, and this time wasn't Carlos the only one in front, but Jamba too. The two cousins shared a very angry look that told all that needed to be said about the most surface level feelings they had to this revelation.
The moment this situation wasn't as dire as it looked right now, the moment they were all safe and sound, even for a second, Pilar would have a talk with everyone. Whether she liked it or not.
And depending on her words, that may be the last talk anyone offered her.
For the moment however, those thoughts had to end on the backburner, where distractions were kept in check. Arriving at the bottom of the stairs was not without issue, for the door, once left open as they all crossed, was now closed, and the pair ahead felt the frosty air that led to the other side.
"This is not the same place we left." Jamba spoke, more to himself than anyone else really. He got close to the door before looking back. "Should you go first?"
Carlos was a bit too slow on the uptake, making Pilar take the lead in his stead. "This place is less chaotic now, children. Without chaos there is still danger, if only lessened. I can assure you that someone lies ahead, and it is family. The only dangerous element I can feel on the other side of that door will be the cold, a cold that my senses tell was far worse before that tremor. If we linger too much it will harm us, but only through exposure."
Jamba and Carlos shared another look, and the younger just shrugged. Jamba did almost curse under his breath the moment he opened the door.
It wasn't frigid, not to Carlos, but he was not as used to the heat as his cousin, instead more at home with the cold sometimes felt around the coast in the north of Spain. He had always been very tolerant of cold temperatures, while heat itself always made him uncomfortable, drowsy and sometimes downright miserable. Even without appropriate clothing it wasn't too bad when the door opened and both he and Jamba ended up under a slightly clouded sky raining snow on them at a gentle place.
Yet, gentle or not, the snow covered mountain around them told the pair, and the rest of the family as they came through the door, that the snow would not stop. In a way it didn't matter, it even became a positive. Nuru loved the thing, and while she was freezing her legs, considering she, and her mother, didn't have them covered, she had stopped crying over her dress being dirty. Although if it wasn't for her father she would've walked over the edge of the mountain in her happy little exploration of the place. It probably didn't help that the edge was dangerously close to the stairs going up.
And the mountain was very, very tall and very, very steep. Carlos did not have a fear of heights, but he would think twice about looking down next time. The simple idea of tripping made him simply look away.
What this perch allowed Carlos was to see that there WAS a limit to the land. It wasn't like the place he came from, or where Yolanda and her family had started, or even the ruins above. Here Carlos was (almost) at the tallest point of this land. Carlos could see the peak close by, yes, but he could also see the body of the mountain, the land below… and the nothingness that seemed to expand outwards at some point.
Or was there something out there? His eyes picked shapes, colors, but most of what he could see was just pure dark nothing. It didn't mean there was nothing out there (After all, he did not know how this place worked), but the darkness itself made him question whether or not they'd need to explore the 'horizon' one day.
"That is your uncle's house… more or less." Pilar cut through Carlos' sightseeing. "It is far too close to the top of this place, and damaged. This place has affected him more than it did you, Yolanda."
A simple and quick onceover made Carlos agree with his grandmother. Carlos had seen his uncle's pad a couple times, and it had been in very good shape every time, not unusual considering his uncle's vanity. It was a rather large villa; a reconstruction of an abandoned manor that had to be downsized after something or other. Whatever the case, Hector got it rather cheap, and the man knew a deal when he got one. Didn't help that refurbishing it to his own standards came out as a steal once he got a few words in with the right people.
At first glance you'd consider the outside to almost look like an ancient Greek temple in its prime. And right now the look almost matched the aesthetic of a well preserved ruin. A few of the pillars outside had been cracked, or pushed down, with the characteristic roof showing age and decay that shouldn't be there. Many of the statues were damaged, the garden was, unsurprisingly, dead (or dying) under this cold, and most modern implements that had to do with glass and metal seemed to have been cracked or downright broken and shattered.
It was an impressive sight, but not one to be awe inspiring. More like Carlos thought his uncle was probably well and truly fucked before worry set in and the group began to march, crunching snow under their feet as they did so.
Was it good or bad to say that there was no impediment going into Hector's house? The door nearly crumbled to pieces when the group tried to enter. This did not happen through dust or decay, instead being the effect forced on the door as the cold turned the previous reinforced door into a brittle mess. The inside was warm, as if shielded from the cold that permeated everywhere else, with anything not on the outside (pictures, a few busts, furniture and all the crap Hector liked) apparently being none the worse for wear. Whatever had happened was, at least at first glance, superficial and away from the house itself. Or so it seemed.
There were a few things that worried everyone though, and Carlos was quick on the uptake. For one; there was water everywhere, and a few small ice shards flowing in puddles. While the cold here was more or less nonexistent, as if it was standard room temperature, it was clear that it hadn't been like that until recently. Then a realization struck Carlos; what if the cold had just 'directed' itself? Considering this was Hell it wasn't impossible. Right?
Zaid hissed as he tried to go into what looked like the kitchen. The metal door that led there was frozen solid, making it even more obvious that the cold outside had probably been way worse, and that the house hadn't been damaged for no reason, that the ice had been there for long, and that certain areas had been more affected than others. In fact a few doors, while not frozen, were still stuck, and it seemed as if the group was herded towards the main dining room down the hall that connected the house's ground floor as the untouched doors didn't have anything of note.
Unsurprisingly, the door leading to the dining room was also locked. This was the area with most ice, and the cold seemed to sting more here than anywhere else, but the ice that held it in place cracked under pressure and the clear fact that normal room temperature and the antinatural cold were fighting a constant battle the ice itself didn't seem to be winning. A strong shoulder bash from Zaid opened the door, leading to the mess that was the room itself.
Damp, cold, but still a lot better than outside. Sofas, decoration and a few electronics were likely messed up, although the TV, while only pouring out static, seemed to work. A couple large speakers and other parts of the room that Hector had high up, or sealed behind glass in case of a few art pieces, books and knick knacks, were still perfectly safe.
And right there, in front of the TV, was one particular sofa covered in anything from blankets, rugs, cushions and anything else that could retain heat. A few of them were wet, but that particular seat had been slightly above the others. Hector wasn't exactly the most prideful guy, he found pride itself rather stupid. Vanity prone? Now that was different, for he liked to be the center of attention. What better way than to have his favorite seat rising above all else in his house? Carlos had never understood the appeal, but right now it had saved his uncle some grief, considering there were a few large puddles in other areas of the room.
A rather odd mix of serious and comical as far as Carlos was concerned. More so once Hector's head popped out of the mound of pillows and other stuff he had covered himself with.
"Mom? Sis? What are you all doing here?"
Hector was the odd one out in Pilar's family. Average height (around 1.7m), short blonde locks, only sported by Hector's great grandfather on his father's side. Soft features, deep blue eyes, a constant shit eating smirk despite his good nature, a very relaxed posture, thin body build and general playboy attitude was not what you'd expect from one of Pilar's children. Even the most irreverent of them had some respect when in front of their parents, but the youngest child was perhaps the more 'live and let live' kind of person, mixed with his usual 'I don't give a fuck' approach to almost everything.
Right now, despite his situation, Hector looked to be fine. Still, for some reason he was still wearing his unbuttoned shirt and a beltless suit pants that nearly fell to the ground. At least he had shocks on… while wearing sandals. Not the best combination when he walked down the small platform that held his little 'throne'. Heck, while he was fit, he was not exactly well trained, or balanced, because Hector nearly fell on his ass before he reached the group. Hector had never been the most physically adept, and in fact his looks had more to do with genetics than his own effort. His personality and approach to things were ALL his however, and his mother made sure to let him know that.
In fact…
"Why are you like that?" Pilar spoke with a tired and disappointed tone. "I thought you'd have half a mind to at least cover yourself up after you found yourself in here."
Hector didn't seem to miss a beat. "First, mom: This is my house, I dress however I want to. Second: I found myself here moments before ice began to form everywhere! I had enough time to go around and pick everything I still had lying around from a party a couple days ago before I was quite literally ENTOMBED IN ICE."
Carlos looked at the cushions, blankets and everything else. He grimaced. A 'party' probably meant a ton of friends, women and men alike, and a massive mess.
If you know what I mean.
Considering Hector wasn't a slob, but took his time when he was happy, enjoying the moment and all, and he didn't mind the smell of sex, he probably had barely cleaned. Disgusting? Yeah, likely. Then again Carlos was most likely exaggerating. Hector WAS a very tidy person despite his flaws, but he also tended to party very hard during festivities. It was more likely that Carlos' uncle hadn't cleaned because he had a killer headache for twenty four hours straight (wouldn't be the first time), probably making him remain nearly dead to the world for the duration, than anything else. He had likely taken some 'hangover cure' or another to attend the video call, but that was as far as he probably got. Still, the mental image wasn't pretty either way.
"By the way, why do you look like cartoons? I mean, like the Smurfs and stuff. Everything is so colorful, and I know I didn't hit the bottle (hard anyway) while we were having dinner." Hector mumbled, but he was loud enough to be heard by everyone. "I mean, I have been doing nothing until you came, other than look at this mess and wonder if I was high or something. That, and the question of where the hell are we, is eating me up."
That much Carlos wanted to know too, and a quick glance told him that everyone else was at least intent on discovering why they were seeing things like this. Cartoony looking or not, the ambiance wasn't exactly a happy one considering everyone had Pilar's words still echoing in their minds.
"We are in Hell, son." Pilar spoke, quickly silencing her son. "And I am not joking. The fact you see things differently is proof enough. The powers that be have altered your perception of things."
For a moment it looked like Hector was going to laugh. "Sure." He did chuckle, but held it as best as he could as he continued talking, obviously believing none of what he just heard. "Are you telling me that Hell, literal Hell, makes everything look like a pastel show? Come on! Shouldn't it accentuate all the ugly, the dark and dreary? Shouldn't it be trying to cause me pain and repent for all the sins I have committed? This is so stu-!"
The smack reverberated through the room, startling, but not surprising, everyone.
Hector was a grown man, but again, he was very irreverent, partly because he had been given far more freedom than the rest of his siblings. Whether Pilar had a fondness of her last baby, or she just wanted to try and give one of her children a normal life without pushing her duties, no one knew for sure. One thing had always been clear though, and Hector had admitted to it without shame.
He got hit the most in that household. Not only because his mother was stern, much like his father, but because he was a little shit most of his early life.
But as an adult? He had never been hit again, because yes, he didn't offer much respect, but he knew to at least keep things within certain boundaries. There had been many times Pilar had raised her voice when the family got together, many of them thanks to Hector making off-color comments that came close to going through the threshold of her patience and breaking it.
Now Hector was holding his cheek, a surprised expression on his face. He had clearly expected a yell or some kind of reprimand. A simple and direct slap to the face? That hadn't been in his calculations apparently. The fact that his cheek was turning red very quickly, and that Pilar was offering a face full of contempt and anger, spoke volumes of the force behind it. Heck, Carlos was sure that, had Pilar truly intended for it, Hector would be missing a teeth or two right now.
"You… you hit me, mom." Hector spoke softly. At thirty eight he had never been closer to confusion, anger and despair than right now. It had been so long since his own mother made him see reason with a simple action. "W-why?"
"You think this is a joke, Hector?" Pilar growled, her voice far more menacing than anyone had heard in their lives. "You think I am lying to you? That I have the patience to deal with your stupidity now of all times?! We are in Hell, child! Magic is all around us, changing us, forcing us to see things as God Himself intended: Perfect, pure, without fault. Only perverted by the taint of demons and corruption." She pointed a finger at her son, angry and clearly agitated, but collected enough to refrain from yelling again. "Get your act together and take whatever you need from your home. We still need to go and see if the last of your sisters is okay."
No one said anything. They all shared a look, leaving a dejected looking Hector behind the moment Pilar told them all to get out. Admittedly, at least for Carlos, the cold was more bearable than the apprehension felt in that room.
Hector took what felt like hours to come back.
Bags full of anything he could find in good condition; clothes, a few books, Hector's favorite laptop and speakers that he'd bring over from time to time to blast music all day long… Most of those things he didn't need, or probably wanted, right now. It was obvious to everyone that Hector took his sweet time to be alone with his thoughts, and even that long wasn't enough to whip away the five fingered mark on his cheek. Pilar didn't seem to be in a mood to reconcile and Hector did his best to remain behind his big sister.
Being urged to the front, Jamba at his side again, Carlos could barely hide how he tried to overhear Hector and Yolanda talking, with Zaid chiming in here and there, the moment they began moving. The only one to not talk was Nuru, and Pilar clearly had her focus on the two young men in front of her, clearly ignoring the conversation behind them.
Probably for the better, because they both got caught unaware when they found the stairs down, only to be pushed back by a wave of hot air the moment they opened the door. It was very clear where the stairs down would lead them.
Silence marked most of their trip through the savanna. It was still very much on fire, but now it felt less like a wildfire capable of melting steel, and more like a 'normal' forest fire that, so long as you don't get close to the fire, won't harm you. No smoke, no sweltering heat at all ranges, but still prominent and constant enough everywhere to make exploring the place an idea none in the group was willing to entertain anytime soon. At least Hector seemed to welcome the heat for a minute or two.
The complete silence that enveloped the group ended when they came back to the stairs leading down. Again, the door had been closed at some point, because Carlos clearly remembered it was left open. While it lacked the rumble, scare and the loud slam from up top, this situation was similar to the decrepit city above them. At least instead of cold or heat, what came from the other side was the smell of nature; vegetation, wetness and aged plants. Intoxicating and refreshing after recent happenings, if not for the strange feeling that the area around them wanted to go down and consume whatever it was there.
Without warning or a word at all they walked down. This new 'floor', or whatever it was, seemed to bring no dread or danger to Pilar, so both cousins decided to count their blessings as they opened the door, a silent walk down the stairs more than enough to steel their nerves for whatever they may find on the other side.
A wall of dead vegetation was certainly not what they thought should be on the other side.
"Well." Jamba gave the branches, thorny vines and a small mountain of grass, a good push. It didn't budge. "We are stuck."
Carlos looked at the blade in his hands, then at his grandmother. Pilar just gave a quick nod. Well, they had nothing else in hand. Why not?
Jamba probably was thinking the same thing when Carlos asked him to step aside. And by the same I mean to say 'You are kidding, right?'. It was a switchblade. A long one, yes. Well crafted, old and perfectly maintained. A work of art even. But still, switchblade.
The navaja surprised both cousins the moment it cut through the dead vegetation with ease, almost as if it was a red hot knife through butter.
"Color me surprised." Jamba breathed while looking at the blade on his cousin's hands with newfound respect. It quickly died as he saw the sea of tangled vegetation still in front of them. "This… is going to take a while, won't it?"
"Oh yeah." Carlos grimaced. "This is going to destroy my arms."
Would it take long? Would it be a short workout? Whatever the case, however long it took, the sound of dead greenery being cut down and pushed away is all that could be heard in this new place. A droning, constant rustle that Carlos was thankful for, his mind occupied with many things, wondering what his immediate future would be. Wondering what Hell would be like as soon as the family was ready to try and follow Pilar.
Even if he was beginning to doubt his grandmother's state of mind.
"Shit! Weapon's dry!"
Had it been minutes? Had it been an hour or more? Leonor really couldn't give less of a shit. Firing, loading another crate of ammunition, ensuring the weapon's barrel didn't melt. That was all Leonor had been able to focus on, anything else being so far down in her priority list that time just couldn't be bothered to show. In fact, and unsurprisingly, her biggest concern had been the apparently unending sea of assholes sent her way.
This couldn't be just for her, could it? She wasn't such a big fish after all.
No. Of course it wasn't. She hadn't been the only one to try and get away from her boss recently. The last fuckup had prompted a few other 'firings' after all, and she was very much sure that her sorry ass hadn't been the only one to flee the Greed Ring.
Whether that meant there were others in the same situation as her up here, or in other Rings, that hardly mattered. The only important thing was her previous boss' determination to keep his image 'clean'. After all, not even family mattered much to that asshole, and if his image suffered, then you either got out of the way or he took you out himself.
So long as the 'family' got money, then Leonor's previous employer would be stingy, but willing to get the job done. Pardoning a few hundred debtors that had little to offer beyond being a pain in the ass of a debt to collect was no loss, in fact they could be a win if Leonor died. And if they failed? So what? Debts 'collected', message sent either way. If Leonor ever showed her face in the Greed Ring, then she'd die. If the idiots with forgiven debts came to ask again, they'd be shafted even harder. Worst case scenario was Leonor surviving, but at that point she was as good as dead to everyone else. Hell was big, enormous even, but to get to every Ring you had to go through the elevator or find alternative ways that could cost you more than just money.
Leonor was fucked no matter what. Her only option laid with a new life, and only if someone with power decided to take her under their wing. Otherwise…
The cracked bulletproof glass nearly gave in as another solid slug collided against it. There was no way her boss was going to forget those fucking debts unless she died or those bastards gave it their all. Another shot made Leonor flinch, almost jumping back, scrapping one of her horns against what was left of the torn roof of the car.
Fuck. Zana's ride was almost in tatters.
"I know the thing is dry, you gun toothing bimbo bitch!" The impette growled, teeth grinding together as she eyed her dashboard. Almost three years of work on her ride undone in minutes. "How many people had your boss fucked over!?"
"How could I know!? It was not my fucking job to keep track!" Leonor ducked, the glass on her end finally giving in to a flurry of gunfire, one of the bullets gracing her hair. "He could have thousands of fucking Sinners and other demons in his grasp for all I am aware!"
And they had, at best, blown up a good dozen or two dozen cars. A lot for a single vehicle, but Zana's car, until recently, was basically an armored car 'lithe'. Now it was a bullet ridden hole that had been extremely effective at keeping both women alive and unharmed. The attack around them was not pettering down however.
"FUCK!"
Well, the car HAD been doing a marvelous job. Zana's left leg had what looked like a damn crossbow bolt stuck near the thigh. A pursuing car had finally made it past the rest, no bullets being sprayed their way, and the first Sinner to appear had what looked like a repeater crossbow on his hands of all things.
On one hand, a weapon like that could be deadly, more so at close range.
On another, the slightest miscalculation in its making, or maintenance, would make it worse than throwing rocks at a steel wall.
Zana, however, didn't seem to be happy about the thing misfiring and just firing one bolt her way. If anything the imp's pupils turned into fire and brimstone as she rammed her car sideways, making the other car bounce against the next pursuer trying to pull in front. The ensuing crash of metal at top speed ended up with both cars veering off course, falling behind and crashing into more of the pursuers. An explosion later, courtesy of previous damage from Leonor's shots and sudden impact, was enough to mess with a good chunk of those still on the two demons' asses.
But not all. After all, stopping a snowball this size needed more than mere explosions.
"There are still four more cars." Leonor grimaced as she looked at Zana, quickly turning her attention back to whoever was left. "You think we can get past them?"
Zana said nothing, just looked at her side. The problem wasn't the bolt stuck on her side, though that was hurting something fierce. No, the problem was that her door had gone with the assholes' car. Same with most of her rear windows at this point, a chunk of the roof that had been blown off by an explosive that fell on top of it. At this point the tires were basically blow, the rear section of the car was only still in place because Zana had spent an ungodly amount of time reinforcing everything and a few assholes that appeared in ahead of them had also damaged the front of the car with explosives that cracked part of the plow, likely hitting the engine once or twice, more than enough to make their top speed suffer.
And fuck it all. Why not add a barricade next to the city's entrance? How many idiots had pulled up for this fucking chase!?
"Well, not with the state of my car we won't." Zana admitted with an air of finality. "That barrier is going to total what is left of the engine no matter how we hit it. If we are unlucky, we'll be stuck. If we are lucky, my baby will give us a few more kilometers."
The barricade was utter shit; no cars, mostly heavy stuff that could be quickly taken off but that would make a speeding car get very damaged if it rammed past it. Things could've been worse, but even 'immortal' Sinners didn't want to piss anyone for too long. As Leonor looked at it, it was clear that it was a haphazard job for a reason; neither one of them should've survived this long. As such the metal bits, boards, crates, concrete and other bits and bobs that were both sturdy, heavy enough to deter a vehicle (barely) and still light enough to be removed quickly if someone powerful (and pissed) wanted the road cleared.
But the point wasn't that the barrier was crap. The point was that the damn barrier was 'good enough' for a normal car, and right now Zana's ride was below that.
Sure, they still had the plow, the front was in the best condition and they still had a lot of force and weight to run through the damn thing. Heck, the idiots on the other side of the barrier were now realizing that the thing was going to be necessary AND that it wouldn't hold, so they were scattering like bugs. If they had enough balls to linger around they'd mob the two as soon as the engine died, so long as the pair was unlucky enough for the car to give up right away.
It'd been nice to drive off to the side, but the surviving cars were getting close enough to make it impossible without getting shot or thrown around.
"If we try to go to the side, we are fucked." Zana made it clear to Leonor, in case the other demon had any doubts. "If we plow straight through it, the engine is going to die." And the picture was getting worse and worse. "But if the bugs move out of the way far enough, if the other cars smash into the blockade too… The car may push us a bit further than those assholes"
"So we can run?" Leonor didn't consider it a 'good plan', because it wasn't a plan. That was the only option she saw right now.
"We are near the other side of that damn cannibal's territory, Leonor." Zana took a deep breath before pulling the bolt out of her thigh. Not very smart in any other situation, but the impact could make the surface wound far worse. A little bit of blood and soreness was the least of her problems right now. "There are no more vehicles chasing us and most of the guys on foot seem to have only melee weapons. I suppose those were the ones in deeper debt than the rest of these fuckwads."
Considering Leonor's boss and how he tried to bleed everyone dry? Yeah. She could picture it would be hard to scrounge enough for a firearm. Those guys probably took the offer hoping to do no work at all and just wait to get a call telling them the job was done.
They were a problem now though, even if some of them likely didn't really want to get their hands dirty.
"Think we can make it?" She didn't want to sound dejected, but right now Leonor didn't see much hope.
"Fuck no." Zana wasn't helping Leonor's mood, not that the shark knew a way to improve this mess. All she did was flick something on the dashboard and Leonor's eyes widened in realization. "But Ah'm not fuckin' givin' up either!"
The impette's natural accent pushing through was not as surprising to Leonor as the burst of nitro that pushed them forward. It was just enough to gain a few meters between them, the pursuers, and also add enough force to smash through the wall.
Of course plans do tend to go belly up, and this was no different.
Look, a damaged piece of equipment can act in many ways. Games and movies may make it simple: Guns may jam, armor absorbs less damage, vehicles may act up or not start. Simple stuff. Everyone with half a brain knows that in real life shit doesn't work that way. In Hell it is the same, and Leonor knew it as much as her companion did, only neither expected the result to go so fucking far beyond reason.
In a way it helped, in another… Well…
Zana's car crashed against the wall. That part was expected. The unexpected part was how a block of concrete had fallen from the pile beforehand. It had probably been hastily placed, and it likely moved a small way forward after it fell. Not important at the moment, true, but it ended up far enough tho make Zana's car tilt sideways ever so slightly before impact, creating a bounce in the right way. The ensuing crash, thus, did not come from full brunt force in a single direction. If Zana's car had been in a perfect state that would've been fine; the cinderblock would've been obliterated by the plow, the crash would've been a joke and the repairs afterwards would've been minimal. Right now the plow was there, but the explosives from before allowed enough space for the aforementioned block to pass underneath, the engine itself was not at full power and the tire that stepped on the brick finally popped. All of this created what could've safely described as a 'Catastrophic Event' of a crash.
Leonor saw the car lift and start turning in the air at high speed. Zana was screaming bloody murder as her baby prepared to make its last stop. The only positive of this fucking mess was how the other cars all came and crashed down, not stoping, not relenting, and all ending up dead at the same time with some of their occupants flying and turning into smears on the floor before one of the more damaged pursuers had its tank explode.
On the plus side the explosion made those on foot scamper even further away. On the less fun and more problematic side, none of the other cars followed suit as Leonor and Zana held for dear life as the car tumbled on forwards, barely missing the buildings on either side of the street as the hunk of scrap metal on wheels tumbled from one side to the next, bouncing on cars, street signs and whatever else it found on the way.
Credit where credit's due, the occupants survived. The car, however, was once more turned into scrap.
This was far, FAR from the worst this city had seen, and the most the two groaning demons within the totaled car could hear was people complaining on the streets. At least they got lucky enough to not get attacked as they exited the upside door car. Leonor with some grace; if a few cuts and pain on her back was all she took, she'd be thankful. Zana limped, not unexpected. The imp had to crawl out of the car, grunting and moaning as she did so, a small trail of blackish blood dropping behind her.
Could be far worse, or so Leonor thought as she went around the car at the best pace she could manage to help Zana around. Pragmatism would demand leaving her behind, run like hell and say 'fuck it'. But that same pragmatism also warned Leonor that doing so would bite her ass so hard that there would be no way out of that mess. After all, if they got Zana she'd blab to fuck Leonor over as vengeance. Leonor wasn't able to run and the locals knew the city better than she did. Keeping Zana going alongside her was simply the safest option.
The demonic shark was NOT going to carry the imp, however.
Right now talking was far from the first thing that came to mind. A large group of Sinners was pooling from all over the street and neighboring areas, curious about today's massacre and mischief. A good chunk of their pursuers had been confronted by locals and owners of the area that had been damaged by the crash and explosion, while some people just wanted to start shit.
A respite. That is all this mess was. Leonor and Zana were beyond quick when it came to legging it. Maybe they tumbled, maybe they limped, but neither one of them turned around to see how much of a headstart they had.
Because, no matter how much they got, it sure as fuck wasn't going to be enough.