The days in hell never changed; you can never tell what time it is from looking up at the sky or the position of the sun. The only thing you'll ever see when looking up is the occasional sinner screaming as they fall from the hellish sky, and the pentagram above is glowing. The true time you wanted to watch the sky was when the bells rang, alerting you to the yearly purge of excess demons, or what they like to call the extermination, when the gate between heaven and hell opened up.
That was the day when you had to risk your life for a whole day as the angels flew from heaven and tore apart the sinners for some fun; that's how sinners saw it anyway. The helmets they wore had the most sadistic smiles anyone had seen before.
For now, that's what Beatrice felt while walking through the streets. Beatrice was an axolotl demon with purple hair styled into large curls. She was shorter than most, being only around five feet tall; most of her height was in her tail, which she kept wrapped around her just to avoid dragging it. She even had a normal skin tone, being of Spanish descent, without even knowing; she could have easily passed for a human if not for the tail and the scars she had all over her. The scars had a purple hue to them, similar to her natural hair color, unlike her skin tone. Alongside having a style to them unlike when she was alive, making them a much more prominent reminder of her past, they could have been mistaken for birth marks, but they were worse due to the memories tied to them any time she looked into the mirror. Finally, the large set of gills that protruded along her temple and cheeks had very little use since the woman avoided being in water. Besides all of these characteristics, she knew the most about herself as a scientist who spent her days experimenting with anything she could get her hands on.
From the plants and wildlife of hell to the very citizens who fall down on a daily basis, you never know what kind of tests you can run on every new sinner since each has a biology specific to them given what form they've taken on. For years now, she's created a number of goods for the upper class of sinners and even some of the residents that have been born here. As long as you didn't try to kill or backstab her with whatever she made, then she worked and created what they needed. From that, she earned herself quite the reputation for being a neutral player in hell, never taking anyone's side, being far too paranoid or closed off for anyone to try and take that chance to snatch her up, but more because she wasn't a fool. She trusted people once, and that landed her in a place with mistakes she can never take back, but never again.
Her eyes scammed the streets, alleyways, and even every cornerstone that was surrounding her. The demon's chest tightened as if suffocation were being forced upon her, stealing what little oxygen she could get into her lungs as anxiety took full grip, unwilling to give up no matter what she tried to calm herself with. Beatrice's mind was solely on making it home, where she could lock herself away in the safety of her lab and work; nothing was able to make its way to her and harm her. Her lab was the safest location for her, so all she needed to do was make it home and lock herself away, just like every other time it happened.
Luckily enough, she soon came across the small building, smaller than most of the multi-story buildings that surrounded it, blending in almost unnoticeably when walking past it. You'd have to actively search for the building, and even then, it looked so plain and simple that it almost vanished from your mind, thinking it was just like any other ruined, shitty structure. It was the perfect place to hide her lab, so the axolotl rushed inside as the sounds of screams, guns, and explosions started to get muffled behind her. Normally, just the regular sounds you'd hear on a daily basis in this shit hole.
Beatrice was silent, as her fears were steadily growing as she was reaching the door, so close that she would be safe once she walked through and shut the door. Her hand soon began to search through her coat pocket, searching for the keys until she grasped them tightly. Once she stood in front of the cheap wooden door, the key was slipped inside the lock and twisted a few times until there was a heavy click and creaking from the door, and suddenly there was a loud hiss as the door began to be pushed open.
Beatrice pulled the key out, placing it back into her coat, and rushed inside, barely letting the door open. Trying to force her way through the small gap that barely formed between the frame and door, As soon as she passed through that door, she was met with the familiar sight of metal pipes and concrete walls leading down a staircase, but her sights were back at the door. The door that would be seen on the outside was made of cheap wood, but in actuality, it was a large steel pressure door. The red finish made it stand out the most compared to the bland and bleak pipes that surrounded her. She grasps the large valve and quickly begins to push it back shut, loud creaking and groaning from the old metal as it was sealed once again. The door was pushed back into place, and she began to turn the valve, getting that loud squeaking of the metal sealing the door shut and separating her from the rest of hell and leaving her finally in peace within her sanctuary.
Once she couldn't twist the valve anymore, she stood there breathing heavily, her grip never leaving the valve as she took deep breaths that were finally calming her heart rate. Each breath was like heaven in her mind. The anxiety begins to fade away, letting her think properly while her lungs no longer feel as if they were being squeezed, forcing every last breath out.
She released the valve and turned, facing the stairs, the pipes acting almost like guides, having been memorized long ago. She began her descent, taking the steps slowly so as not to push herself after finally just calming down. She kept her hands hidden within the oversized sleeves of the coat, as each step down made her feel even more calm and relaxed. There was the occasional sound of steam escaping from old pipes that was quick or loud. All of these sounds and scents made her feel safe.
When she finally made it to the bottom of the stairs, she stood at the edge, facing a gigantic path made from rows of pipes going in the same direction. Every pipe was a different size, shape, and color; there was no real idea of what was inside them. Beatrice didn't even hesitate to take her step down from the ledge and onto the pipes, knowing exactly where to step and safely navigate the mess of pipes. Her steps looked random and messy, but that was completely the opposite. She knew every single pipe that could support her weight and not lead to her slipping off and leading down into the black abyss below. That was the only thing she didn't know much about with this place—where the pit actually went or what would happen if you fell down there. Maybe you fell down to the lower levels of hell, or you just fell endlessly.
That's something you never want a true answer to, similar to what happens if you get trapped in a back hole. Even if she didn't know where it led, the pit acted as a great security measure. Maybe nothing more than a maw feeding whatever beat lay below, trapped at the bottom.
If anyone manages to break in, unless they could fly, you'd have to cross the bridge.
You could snap your ankle with a simple misstep and have your balance thrown off. She remembers catching one of her older test subjects who tried following her in. The screams echoed when the bones broke, and she dragged them deeper inside. Too bad they never did anything to advance her work.
She hopped from the pipes and returned to the solid ground beneath her feet. She looked back and saw it there, watching her. It stayed in the dark, hating the light and fearing it would never want to be exposed.
She tightened the grip on her sleeves while continuing on her way.
Safety. Security. Away from the monsters and memories.
She followed the concrete tunnel leading down deeper into this abyss of science and death. The number of stains she could remember from those who got caught. The colors faded to some darker or lighter shades depending on their age, and some even had a faint glow that was almost gone. Demon physiology was truly fascinating.
The smooth concrete made each of her footsteps echo down as the lights that worked flickered constantly, trying to remain light and pushing away the darkness. Pushing them away.
Keeping it away from her.
A chill ran down her spine as something dropped within the tunnel and made her turn back to look. Her heart racing and the blood pumping through her ears were the only sounds she heard. Her eyes focused on the darkness at the end of the tunnel, the lights flickering much more sporadically than they usually did.
Suddenly she was frozen; it was staring back as if watching her, waiting. Planning.
It was always planned. Waiting. Watching.
She clenched her eyes shut, tearing her attention away from it. She forced every muscle in her body to turn away from the darkness and march to her destination. She wanted to leave the tunnels.
Making her way through the jungle of concrete and pipes, she ignored everything now, even the spinning of the tunnels. Whispers began to tickle her ears, reaching out from the dark. She hadn't even realized she had arrived at the door until she slammed into the metal door. As she held the area of her skull where the pain was most severe, it was quickly halted as she remembered why she was in such a rush as the dread in her chest returned. The pain only acted as a split-second alternative to distract her from what she was running from.
Her hands left the area of her forehead and gripped the round valve that was attached to the bars in the very center that sealed it shut. She twisted with everything until the bars released the door; once that was done, she continued to unlock it.
She began twisting the other smaller knobs and levers attached to different areas of the pipes that littered the door. It was a lock she had designed—a lock only she could access, remembering the pattern of pressure for the lock she had so many times opened before.
A simple pattern.
Yes, patterns. She remembers those enough. Everything has patterns, even hers. The simplicity of recording those patterns and analyzing them. With that information, you could anticipate everything that an individual would or could do. But this was something she couldn't anticipate.
With the final pull of a valve hissing emitted from the door, the pressure began to escape. Releasing the pressure and allowing her access. She began to push against the steel and hear the creaking of metal rubbing against one another, the strain of the metal weighing upon it. She didn't even push it wide enough to step through, opting instead to squeeze herself through the frame and door as her axolotl body allowed her to slip through enough until she popped through. Finally inside, she turned around and smashed her shoulder into the door, throwing all of her weight into it as even her tail slapped into it, pushing the metal back into place following a bang of metal.
Once it was sealed, she could hear the pressure begin to fill the pipes and build back up once again. She stood there until the pressure had finished building and was silent now. She began pressing her head against the metal, listening and waiting.
But there was nothing—silence. That's all she ever had. The voices stopped, and she was left alone. But she wasn't alone; she'd never be alone; it was hunting her. Watching her, waiting for her to mess up, and giving it the opportunity to drag her back to the darkness like it always did. Lock her away forever.
Her anxiety flared up again, forcing her throat to close up and tighten her chest. Beatrice began hyperventilating from the cruising weight finally getting to her. She couldn't keep it up; she didn't want to keep running. They didn't own her anymore. He didn't own her. Not ever again.
She pushed away from the door, trying to control her breathing. But that failed, leaving her to stumble off to her workstation. Scalpels, forceps, jars, vials, acids, bases, and samples. Her mind listed off everything she had stored around.
Everything should be organized. Even her emergency tool.
She nearly slammed into the desk, having lost balance due to her hyperventilating, which became even worse. Her hands shook as she pulled herself up and reached towards the one drawer she had been staring holes into since entering her lab.
Her hand slammed into the metal drawer, her fingers gripping the handle and pulling until it was ripped open with a bang, the stoppers keeping it from flying out of its compartment and spilling the contents everywhere.
She didn't care; she began to pull out folders, papers, documents, and research she had organized in great detail. which only she would understand. The items that filled the drawer were now discarded and scattered all over the floor as she searched through it, reaching towards the back. She continued to reach deeper inside until she found exactly what she was looking for. That familiar box she had placed inside so long ago, she quickly opened the lid, reaching inside, and felt the cold metal make contact with her finger tips. Quickly, her fingers wrapped around it.
She put a white knuckle grip on the handle of the item as she saw something forming out of her vision. It was coming; she wasted too much time.
The old axolotl pulled the gun from its box and leaned against the desk, aiming it out with quivering hands. Her hands were sweating profusely from her iron grip. She scanned the area around her, her eyes darting in every direction while searching. She knew it was there and was tired of waiting. It wanted her now.
She continued to shake, hearing her heartbeat slamming in her ears now. Her heart was going to pop and splatter like a water balloon. Her hands clamped over her ears, trying to silence the rapid thump of her heart. But the only thing that overpowered her mind was a simple question.
Why did it come back?
She suddenly moved around the desk across from her. She wasted no time, so she fired.
For a split second, the air around the gun seemed to warp. The pin within the casing ignited, and a strange ring flashed from the barely, like a halo.
The noise from that single shot overpowered the rapid beating of her heart.
Beatrice's arms flew back and up over her head, the kickback of the bullet being far too much for her. But what is to be expected when using the metal that rests in each tip made from the specific metal only found once a year? The only metal that could end the sinners.
She lost her balance and fell back onto the desk. The bullet had hit the shelf across from her that was full of different jars and chemicals.
Chunks of past experiments fell into the mess of glass and preservative chemicals. The difference in color and consistency was plain to see as some splat and others rolled like a rock kicked along.
But Beatrice was more occupied with picking herself up off the floor as she rolled off and fell back onto the opposite side, leaving her splayed open and exposed. She scrambled in fear until she sat up, scooted herself, and put her entire back against the desk. Her hands were fumbling with the gun as she had to use both of her thumbs to try and cock the hammer back on this gun. It was so heavy and hard to fire that she had to use everything to just squeeze the trigger before it sent her flying over her desk.
Finally, with a proper grip, she cocks the hammer back and causes the cylinder to rotate, loading another shot ready to be fired. Finally prepared, she began to aim the gun around as she scanned the darkness of her lab. Then she saw it—just a glimpse as it vanished into the darkness. So she fired again; this time the gun flew back over her head, almost slipping out of her grasp.
Luckily, she managed to keep her grip and not lose her only means of protection. But that second shot only seemed to anger it.
Due to its anger and annoyance growing even more, it has begun to move faster now. Beatrice again began to clumsily pull back on the trigger; her experience with firearms was greatly limited, as she was never reliant on firearms. Blades had always been her better choice with the vast knowledge she had on the variety of sinners and the species they could become. Unless they were some non-organic or rotting form, those always stumped her on research due to so very few of them being available to her.
Finally, the hammer clicked for a second time, and she managed to load another shot as the darkness was creeping in. She couldn't take it; her chest hurt, and her eyes watered from tears as it was too much. She wanted to vomit from the stress; even her hands had become slick with sweat and had an almost slime-like consistency due to her being an axolotl. Due to that, it was causing her grip on the gun to slip and drop it into her lap.
"No!" She screamed as her hands began to fumble with the gun, as the slime was making it more difficult to grip again. She hated it; she was better than this. Better than the mess she was currently scrambling with her hands to grip a gun. But luckily, she managed to grab it once again, but now that it was too late, there it was. Standing before her.
She looked up and stared at the monster she feared. The monster who ruined her life and made her life hell, scarred her body, and broke her mind, leaving her this pathetic, weak mess. She remembered the horrible memories she wanted to forget.
She was nothing but a scared little girl. That's all she ever was.
She simply sat there and stared, tears flowing from her eyes, all while remaining there on the ground.
Her hands had long gotten a grip on the gun, and she still hadn't moved. She couldn't until she saw their arm begin moving and slowly begin to reach as it looked at her with those eyes. Those horrible evil eyes, filled with nothing but darkness, swallowed up all the light around her and even swallowed the air from her lungs, leaving her unable to breathe.
She hated it. She hated them. She didn't want to be here. Not again. She wouldn't go; she couldn't go. She wouldn't have her life taken and controlled again. Never to the darkness and cold isolation where only her weak breathing and cries accompanied her beating heart.
She snapped back as she felt something tighten around her legs and arms. She looked down and saw the darkness beginning to slowly crawl into her. They were like snakes, wrapping around her and beginning to tighten. That was when she looked at the gun—the only thought that came to her mind. Freedom.
Freedom from it, freedom from the voices, freedom from her scars. She wouldn't become anyone's object. Her choice.
Her freedom.
Beatrice looked up and saw their hand even closer than before, just about to grab her. It would take her away and break her like they did before. That was when she lifted the gun up and placed her finger on the trigger. Her hands shook, and her tears continued to flow freely, but her eyes were glowing bright as the cold steel rested against her temple. The sight of her with the gun did nothing to stop the monster or make it waiver. Beatrice made her decision.
She squeezed the trigger, and for a moment she saw something in the darkness, eyes watching her. Eyes of blue and red watched as the hammer struck the bullet, and suddenly there was a loud bang, and Beatrice felt a sharp pain.
So here's a story I've been working on legitimately for years. I own the majority of the original creations you will see in the story. But Beatrice, even with her quick end, is owned by a friend I consider a sister. You'll see more of the story unfold as the story progresses, but I am just happy to have this story finally be able to be posted after so long. This chapter may seem short for something that has taken so long, but don't worry; chapters will get longer after, and you'll see how the story unfolds.
If you enjoyed it, please follow and leave a follow and fave so I can know people enjoy it and I can show off to my friend how people will love her characters as well.
