A young man dreamed but it was not a real one. Rather, Artyom's mind was focused on a single moment in his afterlife that haunts him in his sleep - the screams of his colonel. Miller helped him when they once lived on the earth and owed much of his thanks to the old soldier. If it was not for his superior, he never would have gotten anywhere. There was that chance that the Russian could have lived longer in the end; however, it was a life he could never enjoy. As he remembered the old man's cries of pain, blood began to boil every second he slept. Then it was more than enough to escape from that endless nightmare.

Anger.

Rage.

Grief.

Those were the feelings that coursed through his veins when he opened his eyes. The ceiling light shined above while he heard an automated beep match his heartbeat. Part of him wanted to cry at this very moment because now he had to live knowing that Colonel Miller will never spend the rest of his life in the eternity of Heaven. Instead, the former Polis Ranger felt like a child he once was at Exhibition Station in the Moscow Metro. A soul that was forever alone.

His ears heard a familiar voice of a man who had been waiting for his return to this reality. "You're alive and I'm glad that you're awake."

Artyom turned his head and realized his coworker was sitting in the dark part of the room. "Tony? I didn't expect you to be here."

"So does everyone else," He replied as he rose from his chair and walked over, "When I heard that you were at the scene of the attack, had to see if you were alright."

"As much as I appreciate the company, I could use this time to be alone."

The employee of the department retrieved his seat and sat beside him. "Unfortunately, I can't leave you be."

"Why?" Questioned the young man, "What is keeping you here to annoy me while I contemplate the loss of my father-in-law?"

"Death knows how much he's important to you and the contractual agreement you were willing to fulfill to ensure his Saved status. Our boss is still offering you a chance at becoming an investigator."

Tony's words were serious; however, his tone was sincere. The eyes hid the man's expressions but Artyom could sense genuine care about his well-being.

"If it gives you any solace, you can get the one who killed him."

The thought of such an opportunity had not crossed his mind. Everything about it felt tempting since it was a means to avenging his commander's death. It was reminding him so much of his previous life. The afterlife in Heaven was meant to be a new beginning, a clean slate for those who worked tirelessly for the good of others. Yet, even in death, the Department of Purgatory was still judging him for his ability to hunt and take the lives of others. His beating heart wanted to say no while his mind also kept remembering that moment in the diner. "What does it entail?"

"Reconnaissance, infiltration, subterfuge," He answered while leaning back in his chair as if relieved by the Russian's willingness to hear him out, "I could go on and on but it involves the stuff of special forces. If you choose to accept this, I'll point you towards the nearest trail we have in Hell once you get discharged from the hospital. So what will it be? Do you accept or decline the offer?"

"I accept."

A whisper in the back of his mind had tried to seduce him to reject and be free from his duties. Suddenly, Artyom considered what Colonel Miller would think of him if he refused to help had he been alive. That thought of disappointment had brought the young man to a painful conclusion that no matter how much he wanted to be a good man who desired to live a decent life. There wasn't a chance for him to live a ceaseless existence behind a cubical for eternity.

Respect was a rare commodity in the realm of Hell and the denizens would freely give it to others as long as they were exceptionally powerful. The nobility and overlords were given such as they could be relied upon for protection against lesser beings. Yet, even they were not given complete deference since there was a limit to their social status. Only one was taken seriously - Lucifer Magne - the ruler of this kingdom and he was watching television like a child catching the cartoons.

His daughter had been advertising herself to the sinners and Hellborn alike, hoping to convince all seven levels to her idea of redeeming one's self at her hotel. None of this was received well and it gained scrutiny from both the news anchors and the audience who were brought to the showing. Lucifer leaned back in his comfortable chair and raised his legs atop his desk, staring at the television in the corner. Despite the scrutiny, the song she had sung was surprisingly catchy for the monarch to hum to himself, but she also left a lasting impression as a princess of Hell. She may have been rebellious; however, he was glad his child was not a pushover.

Someone knocked on the door to his office as he was taken aback by the sudden moment. He had a public persona to show and was unwilling to let his subjects see him passing the time so lazily. His hand snatched the remote on the desk and turned off the television before bringing his feet down and pulling out a cabinet full of papers just to pretend he was working. After carefully putting the papers in place, he let out a deep breath and sought out the person on the other side. "Who is it?"

"Dear, I was thinking about what we're going to have for dinner," Answered a sultry voice who slithered the doorknob open. A tall and fine beauty of the fairer sex had slithered into his room in a dress clad in dark shades of red, "My mind is between Chinese or Italian."

Lucifer's heart softened. His wife was the joy of his life and he couldn't resist leaving his chair and embracing her. "Don't we usually have something more, Lilith?"

Her height was a sight to behold as she willingly let his arm wrap behind her back. "No, but I am afraid the goats are busy amongst themselves since this is their day off."

"Perhaps I can make some arrangements for our table?" He suggested, willing to accept, "Italian sounds nice for the two of us. A romantic dinner between you and me."

"Lucy?"

He looked up with a smile on his face. "Yes, my beloved?"

"I think you need to talk with Charlie," Her expression was worrisome and saddened as if something about their daughter truly concerned her, "A conversation with her. That is all."

"I don't know."

The ruler of Hell began to let go and sit against the edge of his desk. She had been insistent on this whole dream of hers to try and improve the lives of their eternal suffering. Yet, he knew the truth of the whole matter. Heaven did not care enough of its fallen kin to consider her proposal as an alternative to the yearly exterminations.

"She doesn't understand that Heaven wouldn't even care about us. I tried to tell her the impossibility of the whole idea and she just wouldn't listen. Charlie is too naive to understand this."

Lilith walked up to him and rested her head against her shoulders. "Perhaps but remember that she is our daughter - the embodiment of our love. If this hotel idea of hers keeps her happy, who are we to deny it?"

Emotions in the room had begun to change when a phone rang in Lucifer's pocket. He brandished it out and took one good look at the identification. His blood boiled upon seeing Archangel Michael's name and wondered what he had to say. With a single tap, he waited with bated breath to hear his hated brother. "What do you want, Michael?"

"I saw what happened on the news," He was unusually soft for a man so commanding, "Your daughter has left quite the impression and entertained those in Heaven for that comedic fight."

"Is that why you called me? Is it just to gloat at my girl's expense and laugh at me?"

There was a slight pause before Lucifer recognized his brother's serious attitude. "No. Unfortunately, this call is something else entirely."

"Then what is it?" He demanded with the hope his words would have the poison of a viper. His wife stepped away and let the conversation play out, "I haven't gotten all day."

"You are my brother and I have known what kind of person you are. If there is one thing I have learned about you in the war, a stupid bumbling idiot is not your character."

The way this conversation was heading did not comfort him at all.

"There has been an attack in Heaven. I called you for a reason. Did you order it?"

Now, this was news for the fallen angel. "No. We've agreed to the peace accord to cease open hostilities. I would never do that. It would jeopardize the safety of my family!"

"Good," Michael answered, "You just saved the council from their worries… I wish you the best."

The call ended as the royals didn't know how to react to what just happened.

Layla did not know why she was in Hell, only that living on the streets was miserable. Her first few months in this strange nightmare were filled with tears. Nobody could be trusted since they were icky, angry - or worse - evil. Who could she turn to? There were no police or responsible adults to seek help from. All she could do was survive with her loneliness, where the others wouldn't notice or leave enough scraps for her to feed on.

The alleys were her home and few would take notice of her presence behind trash cans but she had to be careful since it would be owned by a gang or someone's animal. Finding fresh food was rare and she would be lucky if it was recently tossed out. Her parents would disapprove but what could she do? She could have become worse by eating the flesh of the fallen; however, her heart believed that God would be ashamed of her for stooping so low.

A scared little girl busied herself by rummaging through a trash can, hoping her search would be rewarded. She had grown accustomed to the sprawling cities of insects and the smell of methane pressed against her face. It was a price to pay for a fine meal and if they were inside, it would be a good day. Everything changed when something slithered and began to strike towards her.

She jumped back in fright as a snake snapped but missed her head. The better of her senses took over and ran out of the alleyway lest the cold-blooded death noodle recovered. Layla rarely lurked towards the sidewalks since she would be met with disgust from the others but between bravery and safety, the latter had was better.

The young girl slipped her hands into the pockets of her sweater as wanderlust took over her thoughts. There was nothing for her except to die without hope while Hell's people cared little about her well-being. She remembered how her death occurred, riding her bike from school, only for a car to smash into her. It was painful and her arms still felt the stings of glass embedded in her arms but part of her wanted to go back home and apologize to her parents.

Soon she stumbled upon a corner store full of electronics; however, it had television sets behind the window for passersby to look at. Much more, the screens were active with a channel showing cartoons. It reminded her of the Saturdays where she would spend her mornings watching the television with a bowl of cereal. The girl could use a break and decided to sit on a nearby bench, enjoying the small moment to herself.

Hours were spent in that one spot, hoping the news and the cartoons would be enough to keep starvation in the back of her mind. Times like these made Layla feel horrible how much she was used to this existence that she has almost forgotten how to smile. It was a disturbing thought but one she would have to live with as life moved forward. Suddenly, the televisions were flickered off as the life of electric energy was pulled out of them, only the reflection of the girl's spider eyes were left.

The store owner stepped out of the building. In comparison to the doorway, was a bloated hippo whose stomach dominated her waistline as she carried a stick in hand. The fat sinner pointed it at her, "You! I don't want you near my store. You're driving away my customers. Get off the bench."

It was hard for her to respond since she was so intimidated by the imposing figure and speech. Struck with fear, the girl forgot how to move.

"Are you deaf? Go, scram!"

Hesitation froze her before the adult stepped forward and raised her stick.

"I'll give you a reason you little brat."

A single swipe to her head had resulted in Layla knocked on the cement as blood splattered across the ground. "No, please! I have nowhere to go."

"Really?" She asked with hatred in her voice, "I suppose there's no point in being nice."

When the second strike came down on her, she shielded her face and head from the beating. There was barely any recovery before the store owner brought her full fury on the innocent girl, who was at her mercy. Nobody was here to help her and part of her childhood had expected it would end this way. The cheeks were now covered in tears while she took every opportunity to make a prayer to God in her final moments. She awaited death's sweet embrace as her vision grew dark.

Off in the distance was a vehicle roaring through the streets as it rapidly grew closer. Its approach was distinct as if the driver was heading somewhere fast. Rubber screeched against the pavement while the engine's cries were a few meters away from her. The doors clicked open and suddenly the beatings stopped before voices shouted at each other.

Layla could hear the woman shout at them. "Do you know who I am? I own this store and this is Vox's territory. You lay a finger on me or that girl, he will fuck you up!"

"Idi na hui. I could care less about who protects you or not," She couldn't make out the language; however, the innocent girl knew the person was foreign, "Comrades, help the girl out."

"You don't touch her. Go on your merry way and leave us!"

The woman's seemed to antagonize the unknown standing over her. "Goddamn karens. Pacify her but smoke the building."

Something reached out to the owner before the electric shock was applied for a few minutes. A body slumped to the ground as a hand reached out to the child. There was a sense of gentleness and care she only felt before she died. Were they trying to help her? No words could be spoken; however, the strangers who rescued Layla had returned to their car. A minute passed before the air popped and a great explosion erupted before the van drove off.

"It's okay. Someone sent us to help, you're safe and we're going to bring you to a better place," Her head turned towards the man, whose face was hidden away by a black mask with glass eyes. It truly was not his face but she could sense it was behind it as he turned around to the others, "Relay word back to station that the VIP has been rescued. We're coming back to the safehouse but get the Isra spinning, she needs immediate medical attention."

It took time to recover from the wounds; however, they were not the only problem that the former Polis Ranger had to contend with. Waiting in the observation room until Artyom was discharged from the hospital was time-consuming and boring. He and the other patients had to spend their hours, looking at the ceiling and each other in complete silence. Part of him hoped the nurses would have taken the effort to improve their morale or simply help everyone pass the time but it certainly was not going to happen.

The door swung open as flying babies and animals floated across the room with ethereal singing. Their voices seemed to harmonize the soul on his bed as they began to pair with each person. One of these creatures, a baby boy with wings on his back, had introduced himself to everyone in the room. His sweet and soft voice was a surprise after the man's experience with the harsh life he hailed from. "Hello everybody! My name is Cletus and we cherubs are here to cheer everyone up. Each of us will get to know one of you and we'll do everything we can to spice things up."

The Russian paid attention to the cherub flying by his bed, a blue-skinned sheep who was eager to brighten his day. He wasn't going to lie, this might not be something he was looking forward to. "My name is Artyom, what's your name?"

"Oh," The cherub was taken by surprise, "I was supposed to be asking that question but we can start there I'm Collin. What brings you to the hospital?"

"Workplace accident."

It was a lie but was his safe lie. The Department of Purgatory preferred having its employees keep their work to their chests. He also had the misfortune to be in the hospital due to the convoy ambush, a subject he was not going to slip out.

"It's nothing but a few scratches on my back," Came his answer as he smiled towards him, "Not long before I get back out there with my coworkers."

His guest adjusted the gold halo that was looming over his head. "Well, that is wonderful to hear. People aren't so usually keen on getting out of the hospital. Give me a minute, I need to see what kind of saved I'm talking to."

A puff of smoke floated above Collin's hands before a manila folder appeared as he opened it, reading the few papers inside. Several minutes of silence passed before the cherub's expression began to shift.

"You are a redeemed?" That particular status of the soul managed to surprise him, "What did you do that was so heinous to Heaven?"

When the human-like sheep had given another look at his past, the warm atmosphere began to change as his expression shifted from a welcoming visitor into that of a horrified reader. Yet, the silent reaction drew concern from the man in his bed. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Y-You killed angels."

"Yes, I did," He answered as his mind recalled that moment when he stood at the top of Ostankino Tower with a Dark One riddled with bullets and lying at his feet. All while he watched the rest of its kin get murdered by tactical missiles. The Polis Ranger looked down on his bedsheets and felt the shame his body carried when he was alive. "Never had I had so much regret for the greatest sin committed at my hands. It's hard to believe that was also me."

Collin returned the background information into the void as he floated beside the man. That revelation made him tremble as if he had discovered a new low for humanity and its darkest side. His shock was apparent as he found the strength to speak. "How did you get into heaven?"

"The very creatures I feared had a child that survived. My redemption began by protecting him, long enough for other angels to not only save me but also my people. I would have been in Hell a year earlier had I not done so."

"I have heard the stories of redeemed souls but have never met one in person," From the way of his tone, there was a hint of awe within his voice, "Your kind are incredibly rare to find."

Artyom leaned back against the bed. "There is a strength to acknowledge the severity of your sins and reflect upon them. It's not something everyone is capable of."

"If you want, we could talk about something else?"

"No, it's fine," He answered, "A conversation like this helps remind me of who I am. Thank you."

The cherub was less frightened and more joyful as if he did something productive a moment ago. "Your welcome. It's just that this is the first time I've ever conversed with a saved before. Cletus is the one that does all the talking while I stay busy at C.H.E.R.U.B. headquarters."

"What's do you do for them?"

"We help the souls on Earth by giving them their blessings so they can be here in heaven," Collin answered with great interest on the subject, "It's our way of guiding people to do the right thing for humanity and the rest of the world."

That last sentence sparked a feeling in the Russian's heart as if it was related to his time in the Spartan Order and its Polis Rangers. The genuine care in performing one's duty was relatable to the man in the bed. "Whatever you're doing, keep going. People care about the little moments in life such as this conversation. It can sometimes be the difference between succumbing to darkness or recognizing the light."

Those words managed to kill any remains of terror within his heart. His facial expressions were now inspired by such a compliment to his profession as the cherub smiled with confidence.

A floating suit of bones had floated back into his office after visiting the department's built-in coffee house. Death was going to need the coffee and the donuts to help him deal with his never-ending surveillance of Hell and its denizens as he placed a small paper bag and his cup on the desk. He just needed some isolation to think about his situation as he made his way over to the windows.

His gaze sought out the landscape below as he remembered the time when Heaven was at war. Outside that glass, the reaper could still feel the echoes of the battlefield. Two armies confronted each other with Michael leading Heaven's forces and Lucifer at the head of his rebellion. Angels slaughtered each other in the bloodshed as former grievances and grudges were transformed into murders between friends and family. He would never be the same after that engagement when his blade had slain many of those who were once kinsmen. Few Archangels would leave that field alive.

When Lucifer had been defeated, Michael could have killed him right then and there. Yet, a simple act of mercy stayed his hand as their fallen brethren were forced to watch their leader sign an accord with the rest of the realm. The rebels would be barred from Heaven for their treason, and as an insult to their power in Hell, exterminators would be deployed for a yearly purge to deny Lucifer an opportunity to mobilize the sinners to his cause. That meeting between bitter enemies was still fresh in Death's mind after all of those years. Would that accord be broken so another war could destroy the peace that was so hard-fought?

Someone knocked on his door as he turned around to grab his meal. "Come in."

Tony arrived as he adjusted his tie. "Sir, Artyom accepted your offer to become an investigator."

"Very good," He would need the Russian's desire for vengeance to motivate him to track down the killer of his father-in-law, "Discharge him from the hospital immediately and prep him Hellside."

"I also have something worth looking into."

"Such as?"

"Well, this might recall some old news" He began as he swiped the sweat from his brow, "Do you remember that group of imps that advertised their business being about murdering sinners on Earth at the request of sinners in Hell?"

Death paused for a moment as he brought his cup towards his jaw and gasped a small amount of coffee into his system. Then his mind clicked into action as he recalled their first showing on the news channel in Hell. "Yes."

"One of our listening posts, after countless hours of hearing bird sex, was able to have several transcripts about their conversations. It involves demonic a blue-blood handing his grimoire over to the imp in charge of that company. Maybe it's just me but sounds like a good start to finding our missing weapons shipment if we stuck Artyom on that trail."

"Between sitting around and doing nothing, I think your plan has substance," He nodded his skull in approval of such a plan, "If I get into a meeting with the council, they'll be more receptive to this and I won't have an army of angels cursing me for being a lazy ass. I'll see if I can give you and Artyom some clearance for a blank check. Update me when it has come to a dead-end or if you need something… sophisticated."

alessandro 110: There will be a situation where Artyom will meet Verosika and her gang but they'll be nothing more than acquaintances.