The Baron's Prize

by SCBM

One of Hell's top field Barons is unsatisfied with Earth's defenders, but soon gets more than she bargained for when ARC retaliates. (F!Baron x M!Human)

2. Chapter 2

-xXx-

The Baroness cradled one arm against her breast while she shook a fist with the other, berating the fleeing mortal as he distanced himself from the street. It had been some time since she'd laid eyes on a mortal warrior, but she didn't remember them looking so equipped. The human was laden with all manners of weapons, every pouch and pocket stuffed with some sort of handgun or knife, the noises his pack made when it jostled hinting at other unseen apparatus. Then there was his bulky armour, the ceramic plating as thick as her claws, the mortal moving with controlled ease despite its weight.

These humans must have finally stepped up their game, sending out their advanced troopers. One just needed to look at her destroyed gore nest for proof.

She glared holes at the human as he fled down a side passage, but right before he disappeared behind the wall, he did something strange. He turned her way, raised his arm, then extended his middle finger toward her. Was he casting some sort of spell or ritual? Did the deranged mortal not know the energies of Hell made her immune to such tempering?

She made to pursue, but after two steps, she felt a tingling feeling crawl up her arm, looking down to see her bicep and shoulder was full of holes oozing her rich, demonic blood, the gaps plugged with silver shells. This sensation, was it… pain?

She gawked in pleasant surprise, clawing into her wounds to remove the bullets left by that aircraft, that tingly feeling morphing into a hot thrum that spiked through her nerves. Not since her failed assault on the Rallypoint had she been hit with slugs capable of dealing her harm. She should leave the citadel more often.

Taking a few minutes to clean herself up, she gored the shells out of her wounds, ignoring the blood drenching her hands, flicking the crumpled bullets away as she took stock of her situation. Her imps lay dead all around her, but that paled to her true problems. The ravine to her rear was still trailing smoke, what had once been a gore nest reduced to a pitiful crater. Scores of the possessed had been obliterated too, and many more would become mindless beasts now that the nest wasn't their to temper their instincts.

A few hours ago, her grip on this place was ironclad, and now she was faced with a serious threat of losing control. What if this mortal, this Commando, was one of many? Was a coordinated attack on her operation in the works?

No. This was her territory. If even an errant bug crossed her thresholds, she'd know about it. But that only raised the question of how this mortal threatened her nest in the first place. Who was he? Where was his kin?

She'd only get her answers from the little insect himself. She'd beat it out of him, then use his own soul to replant a fresh nest. Punishment could only be befitting of the crime after all.

Claws clicked against the pavement as one of the imps emerged from his hiding place behind her, and she recognised him as one of the creatures cowed by the human's little show, more of his kin appearing now that they were sure the mortal had departed. She would have laughed at their cowardice, if she herself hadn't been caught off-guard by it. Very few outside of Hell's own populace could instil fear in the demonic. Not that she was afraid of the little whelp, of course. Just surprised, which was more than could be said for most of his kind.

"What are you standing around for?" she growled, the demonic pack flinching at her words. "We have kin to avenge. We must track down that mortal and flay him alive."

"A-As you command," one of their number replied, curling his limbs around himself. Their fear was thick in her nose, the consequences of losing a nest already rippling through her forces. She had to do something lest they run at the slightest noise.

"Do not fear the mortal's bite, but my grip upon your throats," she added. "Flee from battle again, and being a human's cuisine will be paradise to what I'll do with you."

They nodded as a collective, and while she still detected uncertainty, there was little else to be done from such a fickle race.

"Follow me," she muttered, setting off in the mortal's direction.

-xXx-

Andreas leant against the flank of a car, his breath coming in short, harsh rasps as he stopped to rest, lifting a hand to his chest. The fire bolts hadn't hurt during his skirmish with the imps, but now that the adrenaline was gone, his chest was beginning to sting. It might be no less than a bruise, but he couldn't risk taking off his armour to check, not out here in the street.

He'd been running for what felt like miles, but could only have been a handful of blocks, his path made twisted by the rubble blocking the roads. A few groups of demons had tried to stop him, but they weren't as numerous as those in the ravine, and he made quick work of them. He hadn't seen any sign of the Baron, but he doubted he'd lost her so easily.

"You need to seek shelter," Eva pleaded. "I'm detecting lacerations in your chest and arms, you must rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Andreas replied, lifting his helmet and hacking a wad of phlegm.

"That's exactly your problem," Eva continued. "You keep pushing and pushing yourself, one day life's going to push you back. You need time to replenish your batteries."

"Says the robot," he muttered, pushing off the car and falling into a jog. "You literally run on batteries."

"Technically I'm hooked up to a reactor, whereas you are running on your stomach. At least eat something."

"I just did, remember? Had some demonic sirloin for lunch."

"I still can't believe you did that," she grumbled, Andreas setting off down the sidewalk. "You realise nobody knows what's in a demon's genetic makeup, right? You could have ingested Hell's version of herpes for all we know…"

"It was only a nibble. I'll be fine."

Eva sighed – if she had a face, she'd be shaking it right now. "At least tell me what it tasted like."

"Stringy, hot, a little like overdone chicken."

"As is everything according to you humans. I don't imagine the nutrient content was sufficient. You should stop and fix that."

"Alright, alright," he relented. "In a minute. Need to get through that first."

He gestured towards his north, the wide street walled off to one side by a hedge. The cold metal streets gave way to trees and vegetation on the next block, winding cobble paths leading through what had once been a park.

Using park in the past tense was being kind. The city was in ruins, but the demonic invasion had not been kind to this place. The ponds had dried up, replaced with bubbling pools of tar or maybe oil, the trees turned to crooked poles that resembled stalks of bone.

The knee-high hedges and bushels were void of leaves, but the trimmings created just enough of a barrier to break up the sightlines, natural pathways wending through the once-proud fields. A few decorative monuments and fountains could be seen from here, Andreas struggling to imagine how pretty this place must have been before the endtimes. Trying to simply recall colours was becoming an increasingly difficult task these days.

"You want to press on through that?" Eva asked. "Why not stop now?"

"That Baron's still out here. If she's following me, I'll lose her through there."

Andreas passed through the hedge, which was easily done thanks to the lack of branches and leaves, concrete giving way to dirt as he passed into the reserve. The trees still standing to either side of the path were cooked and stiff, their branches shading what little light pierced the roiling clouds.

He followed one of the twisting walkways deeper into the park, the stone chipped and ruined, writhing creepers poking up through the cracks. Like the creepers on the buildings, these vines were blood-red and covered in little thorns, as though some nightmarish plant had uprooted from the world below. Andreas could have sworn the roots wriggled away from his presence whenever he stepped near them.

After a few minutes, Andreas could almost fool himself into thinking he'd stepped into another world, one of dead plants and alien flora, only the distant tops of buildings giving the illusion away that this was Earth, or what was still left of it. Even the grass had turned to a brownish red colour, a sight he never seemed to get used to. He glanced up at the sky, the heavens dim, despite his HUD telling him it was early afternoon. The skies were still blue over the oceans, but the rainless thunderheads seemed to concentrate over the landmasses to block the sunshine - a result from the suffocating rituals of Hell's numberless worshippers, some said.

If he failed to save the people at the Rallypoint, if ARC should fail, the whole world would look like this…

A feature up ahead pulled him out of his thoughts, the tiered face of a wall looming in the distance. It was a building, or at least what was left of one. It had been obliterated, only parts of the brickwork still remaining, Andreas seeing more of the park beyond its shattered windows.

The ruin was conjoined to the path by a flight of steps, the structure built upon a small hill. Two hedges of those putrid vines flanked the slope, which should provide a modicum of cover from any prowling eyes.

Andreas moved over and planted himself upon the first step, resting his rifle by his feet. He was exhausted, and hungry to boot, and this seemed like as good a place as any.

"Scans are clean," Eva noted. "Odd, considering we've been overwhelmed with contacts since we crashed. Troubling…"

"You're always troubled," he muttered, sliding off his helmet and placing it down.

"I heard that," quipped the AI, switching to the helmet's external speakers so she could communicate. "You could do with a slice of caution, Seargent. There's only so much I can do to keep you out of the fire when you always run into it."

"Where in the middle of an invasion from Hell, Eva, everything's on fire."

"You have a point," she conceded. "Eat up, Seagent, you need your strength."

Andreas slid off his pack, the movement irritating his chest, his skin stinging from the fireball he'd taken earlier. "Could you do something about these burns?" he asked. "They're starting to itch."

"Your suit has medicinal solutions packed with enough healing stimulants to resuscitate a dead man, but your vitals are within acceptable parameters at this time. They're not necessary."

"Come on, I'm itching up a storm here."

"The solutions are for emergencies. They can get you back on your feet, but at the severe risk of an OD. Too many shots and your kidneys might get destroyed or your heart could stop. You can live with a bit of itching."

Andreas grumbled about how she didn't know what it was like having a body, but dropped the subject – she monitored his vitals all the time, she knew better than he did when it came to medicine.

He fished out one of the MRE's he'd looted from the dropship, opening it to let the smell of meat rise from the paper bag. He shifted aside the ration heater in search of the main course, too impatient to spend the time setting up the heating element just yet.

His fingers touched something wrapped in foil, Andreas opening it up, finding a beef burrito within. He'd brushed off Eva's suggestions to eat before, but now his appetite was all he could think about, his stomach grumbling its approval as he took a wet bite.

It took all of thirty seconds to finish it off, Eva chiming in as he delved into the packet for more, a smile in her voice. "Better than imp sirloin, right?"

"Much," he agreed.

There was an energy drink in the package too, Andreas taking a sip as he considered his next move. The rest of the section had made it to the Rallypoint, the question was would they go through with the mission without him? He had the Argent shards, their recovery could mean the difference between success or failure, though getting bogged down by all these demons was making the task longer and more arduous. Perhaps he could get in contact and send for support?"

"Hey, Eva," he started. "Can you open a channel to the Rallypoint?" I-"

"Hold that thought, Seargent," Eva said, cutting him off. "I'm picking up something. West."

Andreas dropped the can, picking up his rifle and bracing it against his shoulder, peering out over the park. All he heard was the creaking of the dead branches, but after a few seconds, something else joined the tumult, the sound of hooves clopping against cobble unmistakable.

"Put me on," Eva said. Without looking, Andreas grabbed the helmet and slid it over his head, the gear sealing to his suit with a hiss. Eva pulled up a motion sensor in the corner of his HUD, several red pings splitting up and making a circle around his position. He could see flickers of movement through the ferns, but they hung just out of sight, wary of getting within range of his weapon.

They were cutting off his escape, that much was obvious, but they're tactics seemed unusual. Most demons didn't care for caution or strategy, that ability laid within only the elite classes of Hell. That meant…

Andreas took a step into the open, rifle at the ready as he waited for the demons to make their move. One of the pings soon drew closer, and Andreas caught a bright shade of red enter his vision, those clopping hooves growing louder.

A mass rounded the bulk of a nearby tree, two blazing green eyes fixing on him. It was the Baron, her developed body rippling with muscle as she stalked towards him. Despite her sheer size, there was an alluring ease to which she carried herself, the way she planted one hoof in front of the other bringing to mind images of models striding down runways, her hips tilting with each step.

He shifted when he noted all her wounds were gone, her muscular body spotless save for a few scabbing marks. Just how fast could demons regenerate? It was like the entire strafing run had completely missed her.

He could feel her presence on some instinctual level, a sense of primal terror folding over him the closer she walked. She paused a short distance away, peeling her cherry lips back to expose the wicked fangs lining her jaw.

"There you are, morsel," she said, her voice as powerful as it was feminine. "Having a little rest, are we? You're either confident or a fool. Perhaps both."

"You again?" Andreas replied, trying to mask his fear behind disinterest. "How'd you find me?"

"Were you not listening? Your precious country is my territory now, nothing goes on here without my knowing of it."

"You didn't know your nest was going to be blown to shit," he pointed out. He intended it as an insult, but the slight brushed right off the Baron's horns, the demon flashing him an uncomfortably warm smile.

"I like you, Andreas. Which is why I'm going to give you a swift death. After you tell me where I can find your compatriots, and what their plans are, of course."

"Our only plan is to send you cunts back to Hell, miss…?" He feigned embarrassment, gesturing at her with his gun. "Excuse me, don't think I caught your name before."

The demon straightened her back, pressing out her conspicuous bust in the process and putting even more stress on her sling. How'd she even fit into that thing?

"I am Sharrya, Baron of Hell, Mistress of the Shattered Peaks and commander of a hundred legions. You have the pleasure of being addressed by Hell's finest."

"Honoured as I am, bitch of hell," Andreas replied. "I'm on a timetable, so can we move this along? Or do your boys need some more time to get into position?"

"Perceptive – for a mortal," she added, sweeping her gaze somewhere to the side. "Then again, imps aren't known for their discretion, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Why are we still talking?" he pressed. "Come to offer your surrender?"

"No, I've come to get yours. Tell me how you managed to be such a nuisance to my empire, and I won't boil the skin off your bones once I get my hands on you."

"I'll be dead before I help you out, sheep-legs."

"That can be arranged."

Without warning the Baron – Sharrya - charged across the crimson grass, tusks parting to release a demonic roar. Andreas squeezed the trigger, waving his rifle like it was a flamethrower, hosing the oncoming demon with tens of bolts a second. She crossed her giant forearms over her head, the superheated bullets splashing off her bright skin. He aimed lower, the demon grunting as he riddled her exposed gut with plasma.

She didn't slow down despite this, Andreas throwing himself out of the way as she bore down on him like a stampeding bull, swiping her meat-hook claws through the space he'd just been standing in, her hooves skidding as she stopped herself. Andreas darted in, driving the stock of his rifle into her side. He heard her snarl in pain far above him, and he made to strike her again, but the demon was faster, retaliating with a savage backhand against his chest.

He felt his feet leave the ground as he was sent flying back, his weapon flying from his hand. He rolled to a stop a good five meters away, his head bouncing against his helmet to leave him in a daze. Blinking through bleary eyes, Andreas looked up to see the Baron stalking closer, a low chuckle escaping her lips as he righted himself.

"On second thought, you can have the stims," Eva said.

Andreas felt a pinprick on the underside of his forearms, the Seargent wincing as his skin was punctured. Several hypodermic needles were built into the inlining of his suit, which could deliver medication or combat stimulants straight into his system, the suit designed to keep its user going for as long as they were able.

Andreas felt his energy reserves surge, feeling more awake than ever, and he leapt to his feet, the Baron tilting her head as he reached for his bowie knife. Putting on a show, he flourished the blade as he withdrew it from the scabbard, pointing the razor edge up at the demon.

"You can hit harder than that, Baron. Holding out on me?"

"As a matter of fact, I was," she growled. "But, if you insist on a quick end…"

She curled a hand into a fist, driving it with enough force to knock his head clean off his shoulders, but Andreas sidestepped the blow, slicing his knife along her limb. Dark blood seeped from the wound, contrasting against her red skin.

Snorting like a bull, the demon doubled over in an attempt to grab him, but Andreas darted beneath her arms, feeling wind whistle past his helmet in a near miss. He delivered a swift kick to her knee in the hopes of collapsing her, but her leg was like iron beneath that brown fur, and all it did was cause her to stumble, the demon backing off to keep him at arms-length.

"Slippery little roach, aren't you?" she asked, her voice so level she could have been discussing the weather with him. "No wonder you evaded my legions so easily."

She lashed out at him, Andreas dodging the blow, taking advantage to slice her across the elbow. He went to aim for something more vital, but the Baron intercepted him with a knee to the stomach. The air left him in a guttural snarl, his back hitting the sloping stairs he'd just been resting upon.

The demon rushed him, lifting one of her legs up, angling the hoof directly at his face. Andreas rolled out of the way, her foot slamming hard enough that it cracked through two of the steps, her meaty thighs quivering with the impact.

Andreas scrambled to his feet, backing up the steps until he was roughly eye-level with the demon, holding his knife in two hands. She took one step up the stairs, and Andreas took one back, biding for the right moment.

"Oh, how long it's been since I've felt the sting of a cut," Sharrya breathed, holding her injured arms out, letting the blood drip between her hooves. He expected her eyes to be full of fury, but her expression could only be described as excited. "Seeing my own blood is almost a novel experience to me."

She brought one arm to her face, Andreas raising a brow as a long, slippery tongue snaked from between her lips to lap at her wound. It must have been a foot long at the least, the pink muscle curling with remarkable finesse. The demon lapped at her wound until it was clean, smacking her lips like she was sampling a fine wine.

"Ah~ The spice of demonic essence. Delectable, wouldn't you say?"

"You're insane."

"Says the one who feasted on imp flesh. That's almost cannibalism, you know."

"She has a point," Eva chimed in.

"You've tasted our flesh," Sharrya added. "Now you will taste death, little morsel."

She launched up the steps four at a time, giving Andreas barely enough time to sidestep an oncoming fist. He came back with a slice across her chest, but she blocked his knife with her forearm, stepping closer to drive her elbow into his face. The force of the blow was enough to rattle the opaque visor, a worrying creak of fiberglass ringing in his ears. He couldn't take another hit like that…

He backed away as she followed through with a backhand, those giant claws splayed wide, missing him by inches. He cursed as he realised he'd reached the top of the staircase, his height advantage short-lived. His hand a blur, he reached for his belt, drawing his sidearm with practiced speed. He dumped the mag into her chest, the Baron jerking as flecks of crimson spurted from her torso. The chamber cycled impotently as the handgun finished barking, the Baron splaying her arms out wide and giving him an incredulous look.

"It's considered dishonourable in Hell to use weapons in a bout," she chastised, clicking her tongue in disappointment. "Then again, without your weapons and technology, this planet of pillocks would have submitted long ago."

"Yeah, well, this pillock is giving you a run for your money, you big pink fuck."

"W-What? Pink…? Pink!?"

Her expression shifted, amusement replaced by shock and anger, the sight ironically putting Andreas more at ease than her toothy smile. The Baron flexed her hand, a pocket of broiling green flame growing from her palm. It grew until it was as big as his head, and then she tossed it in an overhand throw. The firebolt soared overhead as Andreas dropped to his knees, the flames impacting the ruined structure behind him with in a thunderous report, the flames leaving a giant scorch mark on the bricks.

"I cannot remember the last time someone has dared to insult me," the demoness chuckled. "If only there were more like you in my legions, Andreas. Things might not be so woefully dull around here."

"Speaking of which, where're your imp boys?" he asked, flicking the magazine out and sliding in a fresh one. His HUD still showed them hanging back. "Looks like they're not coming to help you."

"Your earlier theatrics have inspired caution within them," she explained, conjuring another two fireballs in her hands. "Not that it matters, you are my problem now, and I will deal with you with myself."

"As an officer myself, I can appreciate getting your hands dirty." He gestured at himself. "Come on, pinky."

His goading worked, the Baron baring her teeth as she crossed the distance between them in a furious charge, emerald flames flicking between her clenched fingers. He made to dart left, but feinted right, a tangible wind brushing his front as the demon lunged past, her momentum barrelling her straight through the wall and kicking up a splash of dust.

Andreas took aim through the breach, firing off round after round at her silhouette. With a snarl, she rounded on him, bending down and then thrusting her arm out in a tossing motion. Instead of a fireball, a brick came tumbling end over end towards him, crushing against his shoulder, Andreas grunting as he felt an alarming pain course through his arm.

The Baron emerged through the breach, crossing the distance quickly on her long legs. She came at him with an uppercut, and this time Andreas didn't dodge in time, his head flying up as her knuckles dusted the chin of his helmet. He felt blood on his teeth, Andreas scrambling back to give himself some space, his vision doubling, making it seem like two Sharrya's were circling around him. The medication Eva was pumping into him was keeping him on his feet, but there wasn't enough stimulant in the world to bite back the pain from a Baron's punch.

"You fight ferociously, mortal," the Baron cooed. "I am glad to see not all of your kind are walking tissue papers."

"If you think I'm done, guess again," he snarled, taking up a defensive stance.

"Oh, I'm far from thinking that! I want you to keep going. I've not felt such challenge since I was young."

"Seargent," Eva warned. "A prolonged fight is not advisable, their's only so much solution I can give you."

"I know," he growled. "I'm handling it."

"Who are you talking to?" the Baron mused. He must have spoken through his external speakers by acciedent. "Have your friends come to finally save you from my clutches? Let them know that Baroness Sharrya welcomes the contest."

She moved in for another attack, a grin splitting her red lips. Andreas feigned an effort as he raised his knife, driving it towards her oncoming fist, catching her on the webbing between the thumb and finger. Sharrya made a sound that was a mix between a bull's snort and a demon's snarl, blood dripping down her arm in thick ropes as she clenched her digits together.

His knife was drawing blood, but her wounds were superficial. He had to aim at something vital, he'd never win through attrition.

This time, it was Andreas who charged, the stimulants flooding his system surging him on. She swiped at him, Andreas skidding to his knees to avoid the blow, turning the barrel of his gun up and shooting her in the face. The bullet skimmed her scalp, a hand flying to her face as she roared in pain. Holding his knife out like a lance, he stepped up to her stomach, his head barely eye-level with her waist. With a cry, he plunged his knife into her gut, half the silver blade sinking into her bright flesh.

The Baron froze up, holding her arms out as though she was intending to surrender, a look of startlement crossing her features as she looked down at him, then to his knife, ribbons of her fluids pouring around the blade with each of her laboured breaths.

Her expression shifted into a kind of giddy surprise, the demon clutching him by the wrist, her tight grip forcing a cry from Andreas' mouth. With a chuckle, she pushed the blade deeper, hilting herself upon the knife as Andreas watched on in bewilderment.

"Well fought, morsel," Sharrya said, seizing his shoulder with her other hand. "You have such spirit."

Her eyes gleaming, she lifted him from the ground, his legs kicking out as she planted her hoof against his chest, sending him flying back. He flipped through the air once before crashing to the staircase, tumbling down the tiers until his back finally compressed against level dirt where he finally lay motionless.

"Get up, Sergent!" Eva pleaded, her voice but a echoing mumble to his ears.

Everything hurt, but Andreas slowly came to, focusing on a bright red figure standing victoriously at the top of the incline. The effect was somewhat diminished by his knife still jutting out of her belly, but Sharrya didn't seem at all bothered by its presence. If anything she relished the wound.

"I admire your bravery, but you are a fool," Sharrya laughed, reaching down to pluck the knife from her stomach. "Did you really think you could best me with only a tiny knife, Andreas?"

She let his knife clatter to the ground, the Baroness descending towards him with a dainty gait, her hooves making clocking sounds. First an airstrike, then a knife to the gut, and still this creature walked. Did he have to start dropping bombs next?

He felt a lightbulb go off in his head, Andreas reaching one hand toward his pack. He produced one of the Argent shards he'd looted from the dropship, clenching the sphere in his glove.

"Uhm, Seargent? What exactly are you doing?" Eva asked. He raised his arm like he was preparing to throw a frisbee. "Wait, nonono-!"

Andreas pegged it, the Baron blinking as the ball came flying at her. To his dismay, she snatched the Shard out of the air, her claws clinking against the glass as she appraised it.

"What in the… Are you throwing baubles at me now, morsel?" the Baron asked, chops upturned as she chuckled. "Did you think I wouldn't catch it… Wait a moment. Is this a-?"

Andreas was already moving, having spotted his plasma rifle lying nearby and making a dash for it. He scooped the weapon off the ground, aimed it in her direction, and squeezed off a single bolt.

Either the demon was too slow to react, or she didn't see a plasma shot as enough of a threat to worry over, Sharrya standing motionless as the bolt sailed past her head and collided with the Shard.

His vision flashed white, the blooming of a cascade of energies burning into his retinas, the shove of a torrential shockwave throwing him away. His ears were saved by his helmet's systems automatically dulling the report of the point-blank explosion, his breathing drowned out by a thunderous crackle.

The last thing he saw was the Baroness standing directly behind the explosion, her legs aimed towards the sky as she was tossed back, the world whitewashed with energy. Andreas was thrown to the ground once more, but the image of the Baron consumed in fire outweighed the pain shooting up his spine.

When the imprints of the explosion clearned, he noted a small mushroom cloud towered above him, morphing into the hellish skies. He followed it with his eyes towards its base, where the Baron had just been stood moments ago. Instead of a building and the steps, there was now a giant crater the width of a barn, eviscerating every tree and bushel in a thirty-meter radius, the ground taking on a grey, ashen quality.

"You bozo!" Eva chided, Andreas wincing as she turned up her own volume. "You just-! That was a very strategic resource you just threw away!"

"Threw away?" he asked back, reaching up to rub his ears, feeling like a fool when his glove brushed his helmet. "She was going to kill me! I had to end it right then and there.

"I… I know," she relented. "Just… We need to have a serious chat about what exactly minimum safe distance means, Seargent…"

He lay there for a while, resting his aching body, eventually summoning the strength to stand. The park was even more decrepit now, the way everything seemed so motionless despite the recent explosion coming off as distinctly unsettling.

"We should not linger here," Eva warned. "We've made so much noise already…"

"I know. Want to make sure we got this bitch first."

He mounted the slope, boots making landslides of pebbles as he disturbed the earth. He kept his plasma rifle on a swivel, not because of Sharrya, but because he knew the imps were still in the area. Hopefully some of them had been caught in the blast, that would make things easier. If not, maybe he could pull off another cannibalistic stunt with Baron-flesh…

He stomped onto the final rise of the crater, and looked down into its smoking, bowl-shaped interior. Andreas made a gawking sound.

The Baron was laying right in its centre, limbs spread like she was making snow-angels in the soot. She looked utterly intact, only the deep gashes and burn marks branded into her front proving she'd been at ground-zero of the blast.

"Oh, come on," Andreas sighed. "Is she… breathing?"

"According to my sensors, it would seem so. She is one tough cookie."

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Eva."

An unhealthy cough drew his attention downward, Andreas' bewilderment rising as the Baroness propped herself on her elbows, hacking into a blackened fist as she struggled to form words.

"M-Minions! To me!" she roared. "Stop gawking and aassist me, you cowards!"

"No one's coming for you, lady," Andreas said, her bright eyes fixing on him. "They've run off, you're all alone."

"You," she snarled between coughing fits. Her next words were laced with venom. "You… weakened my hold on this place, decimated my forces, and bested me in front of my legions. Twice!"

It seemed her injuries weren't as bad as they looked, the Baroness dragging herself to a sitting position, wiping dust from her eyes.

"I… am positively smitten," she breathed, beaming up at him. "Where have you been all my life, Andreas?"

He shook his head in exasperation, this deamonette never gave up.

"Should I even bother wasting ammo on you?" he asked, gesturing at her ruined form. "If a bomb couldn't off you…"

"I don't know, maybe you have a bigger gun you can show me?" she asked back, revealing her teeth in a coy grin.

A small breeze whistled through the ensuing silence, the call of a dozen dammed humans carrying upon the gale. The imps might have possessed enough reason to flee, but there were countless other zombies roaming the city, they'd be drawn to the explosion like moths.

"Just stay down, Baron, I've got places to be," he warned, but his words only seemed to make the demon more amused, the way she stared at him making him feel oddly vulnerable despite their circumstances.

"Unfortunately for you, I don't," she replied. "This is far from over, morsel. Far from over."

Shaking his head again, he turned away, scaling the slope and checking he had all his gear, minus the knife. As he distanced from the crater and jogged deeper into the park, he could have sworn he heard the Baron giggling herself away.

-xXx-

Sharrya felt like she sat in that hole for hours, drifting on a sea of pain and humiliation as she mulled over the battle. Never on this mortal plane had she needed to wait for her wounds to heal, but the irksome little human had been feistier than he looked, and his strength had called up a hint of caution several times throughout their duel.

She winced as her claws brushed the spot he'd run her through, that feeling of the razor edge driving itself into her stomach still fresh on her mind. Had he aimed just a little higher, this crater may have been her grave, yet the brush with death had made her feel so alive.

She should have been disgusted. A demon of her high standing wouldn't let a mortal give her trouble. His kind were meagre beings, evolution chaining them to the role of subservience whether Hell possessed them or not, yet she didn't feel the slightest hint of shame.

In fact, she'd never been so excited, each wound he'd inflicted blooming the thrill that came with battle. This human, this Andreas, had hurt her in ways that many other Baron's had failed to achieve. It had been so long since she'd been in a good fight.

She craned an eye open upon hearing a scuffle of footsteps, her gaze drawn to the lip of the crater. Had her farewell taunt convinced him to come back and finish her off? She'd been so used to everyone bending over backwards for her benefit, she'd forgotten that there were those who possessed a spine.

"That you, morsel~?" she cooed. "I know I said I'd be seeing you soon, but not this soon."

A figure rose over the humped terrain, and Sharrya's grin flipped. It wasn't Andreas, but one of her imp lackeys, walking over the slope on his knees and knuckles.

"Ah, if it isn't my entourage," she said, closing her eye. "Come to do battle after the fight has ended?"

"You live, mistress," the imp stated in a crackly voice. "does that mean… the human…?"

Commanding her body to obey, she removed herself from her prone position, if only to save face in front of the demon. She dusted her chest off with a hand flick, humming to herself.

"I believe my orders were so simple that even your kind could understand," she began, her tone sweet. "You were to assist me after I dealt with the human. So tell me, because I so desperately want to know, where were you?"

"M-Mistress." The imp swallowed, his throat clicking. "When the blast… when we saw you fall, we-"

Sharrya was hurting all over, but she was on him in a second, gripping the imp by the throat, and hoisting him to her eye level, his mutated feet kicking impotently over the ground.

"I do not fall," she growled. "I have never, fallen, and I shall never be, felled. Remove such thoughts from your peanut-sized mind, or I shall vent my frustrations upon you right this instant."

"Apologies, apologies!" the demon pleaded, clawing at her hand as she compressed it over his throat. "We were wrong to ever doubt you, mistress!"

With a roll of her eyes, she dropped the imp unceremoniously to the ground, the imp barking like a dog as he landed. Imps were so easy to intimidate, it almost made her long for that temper of Andreas'.

As she climbed out of the pit, she saw she'd garnered an audience, the rest of her imp pack lingering around and casting her strange looks. They were afraid, that much was obvious, but there was also the palpable stench of doubt as well. Doubt aimed solely at her.

She considered slaughtering one of their number, but she could slay as many as she wanted, it wouldn't erase the fact that this mortal had driven her back while he'd made an escape. Besides, she needed every bit of manpower if she was to correct this situation.

"This mortal must be caught," she began. "All of you will move east from here. Spear into the city a short distance, then loop north and keep moving. I'll send another pack to mirror your movements, and together you will cut off the human's escape route"

"You know where it's going?" the imp she'd choked asked, stil laying in the filth. "Without nest, how can you be sure?"

More doubt. She'd be concerned if these animals were any threat to her.

"I don't need a nest to know where he is going, you fool. Do a little deductive reasoning," she snapped, casting her gaze northward. Over the tops of the buildings, she could just make out the rectangular bastion of a tall, fortified wall, cannons the size of houses lining the corners of the battlements. Considering the state of the ruins, the fortress was one, maybe two days walk from here.

"Will you join us, mistress?" another imp asked.

"I will spear down the middle alone, make sure he doesn't slip behind you," she replied. "Plus, I have a headache, and your brainless questions are turning it into a migraine. Begone!"

The imps took off with a string of hisses and snarls, vanishing into the thickets. Now alone, she allowed her composure to slip a little, nursing her arm as she faced the recess below. Just what had he thrown at her that caused such devastation?

She turned her nose up at the crater, catching a whiff that reminded her of… home? Had the mortals weaponised Hell's essence? Was that even possible? She knew of only one human that had braved her dimension and lived, but that had been long ago, and had ended in the creature's ultimate capture in memory served.

Incursions into Hell were hardly worth concern, but that nagging doubt that these humans weren't so defenceless hung in the back of her mind. Using Hell's own resources against the legions was a tricky, yet ultimately bold strategy, and she wondered what other weapons this Andreas and his kin had in store for her.

This hunt of hers had garnered a new level of intrigue, and Andreas would answer her queries whether he wanted to or not.

-xXx-

Andreas decided to reign back his use of his plasma rifle and pistol, hoping to create less noise and keep the Baron from zeroing his location as he crossed the city. He was confident another of his 'Argent gambits' – as Eva had put it – would put her down again, but the demon would be ready for it this time, plus his job was to safeguard the shards, not use them like grenades.

After twenty or so minutes, Andreas emerged onto the far side of the park, the tall buildings and the narrow streets promising more cover than the alien flora did. There was a mixed group of zombies and imps that happened to be lingering nearby, Andreas taking a knee and giving them a wide berth – much to Eva's relief.

"You need to rearm," the AI started as he ducked into the nearest street, proceeding up the northern turn. "If that Baron tracks you down, another melee is not going to be good for either of us."

"I handed her ass on a platter," Andreas pointed out.

"That's not the way I remember it, and I record and analyse everything you do. If you hadn't gambled your life on the most volatile material known to man, you'd have perished back there."

"It worked, didn't it?" He shrugged his shoulders as he moved into an alleyway, leaning on a flesh-free wall to collect himself.

"I wanted to ask you about that," Eva said. "How did you know a bolt would cause the shard to implode? What if it ricocheted? What if the blast radius was bigger than you thought?"

"It was a risk I had to take," he admitted. "Like you said, I would have perished otherwise."

"All the best computation power humanity can provide, and I'll never figure out your brazenness," she sighed. "Lack of self-preservation aside, the fact you need better armaments still stands. You saw how she brushed off your bullets. If other Barons come looking…"

"Well if you see any gun stores around, let me know."

"I can do you one better," she replied. "I sent a message to the Rallypoint and brought them up to date with our predicament."

"Was going to ask you about that. What are they doing? They sending support our way?"

"Not exactly. They're under orders to hold for our arrival, as you're aware. I've assured the base commander we'll be there in a timely manner. She's pretty impressed you took out that nest, by the way. The garrison's moral has seen a surge after the news got out."

"I'm sure my mom would be proud. So, what're they doing to help us?"

"Before the city was lost, there were several safehouses dotted throughout the city. The military used them as staging posts and to stash supplies for patrols to refill on ammo. See where I'm going with this? One such cache is not far from us, and from what I've gathered they stored very big guns there."

"Very big, huh?" he asked, nodding in agreement. "I'm sold. Good thinking, Eva."

"See? I'm not just a pretty voice. Marking the location now."

A transparent ping flashed on his HUD, Andreas detouring west to follow it. It was almost nighttime, the streets plunged into darkness as the sun receded behind the skyscrapers coring the city. Night vision was built into his visor, Andreas using his wrist-computer to turn it on, the world turning to flickering shades of green. Without the power grid, it would soon be impossible to see by eye.

The safehouse wasn't very far, a pack or two of demons barring the way, Andreas dispatching them with relative ease. Ironically, it was his encounters with the demonic that put him more at ease than the walking. He'd lived in a city most of his childhood, and seeing a hub of civilisation so utterly empty was eery, off-putting. There weren't even any bodies, Hell's endless hunger had seen to cleaning up the biomatter, leaving only rusted metal and broken glass behind.

After passing the next block, he was on the same street as the marker, feeling like he was being watched as he moved down the footpath. A hundred windows and more loomed over the street, the apartment complexes eroded to the point they were tilting on their foundations.

Eva's mark was hidden behind a post fence, and adjacent to that was an interesting building. Sitting flush between two complexes was a whitewashed structure with an angular roof, a line of pillars supporting an extruded entryway, made accessible by a small flight of steps. The sign above the doors was scratched and faded, leaving only the letters L and B still legible. Perhaps it was a theatre of some kind, but Andreas wasn't in the mood for exploring, his marker fading as he approached the neighbouring building.

Andreas tore a hole through the fence posts with a shoulder-check, stepping through the gap into the world's smallest backyard. There was a small garden of withered flowers in one corner, and a dog house in another, an overturned feeding bowl laying between. A brick wall lined the far side of the square patch of dead grass, two doors built into the façade. One led inside, the other leading underground.

Andreas moved to the latter, tugging the handle, but finding the sloped entrance was barred by a padlock with a number combination.

"They forgot to mention a code," Eva mused. "Hold on while I get back to them.

Andreas smashed the butt of his rifle against the lock, the clang of metal followed by a quiet clink as the padlock fell to the grass.

"Andreas," Eva scolded.

"What?" he replied innocently. "It's not like anyone's coming to use it anymore."

He stepped down into the musty interior, ducking his head beneath the concrete roof as he moved into the cellar. After descending a short way, he emerged into a cramped cube, every inch of concrete taken up by shelving units and storage boxes, each one stacked with ammunition boxes, sidearms, and all manner of rifles.

A small stool centred the space, and sitting upon it was a portable radio, plugged into a battery hidden between the wooden legs. Andreas moved around it and started searching the place.

He found spare ammo for his sidearm and plasma rifle, sitting down on the bunk bed stuffed into the corner as he filled his pockets. Further searching revealed a box full of preserved goods, a deck of cards, and a working microwave. One could live down here for a long while if they didn't mind the cramped space.

The thought got him wondering how many poor sods had tried to hide out the invasion, only to have cornered themselves in places like this. The Rallypoint wasn't big enough to hold everybody in the country, how many had been lost during the evacuation? Thousands? Millions?

Not another soul, he told himself. One way or the other, he'd get these shards to the Rallypoint. ARC and the human race were counting on it.

"Are you alright, Seargent?" Eva asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Fine," he muttered. "Just taking five. Let's see about these guns you mentioned…"

He moved over to the weapon racks, shifting through their contents. Among a pile of improvised weapons was a cleaver in pristine condition, which made as good a replacement for his bowie knife as anything. Next he browsed the rifle racks, most of them of the caseless variety, along with a few looted plasma guns similar to his own, nothing of note. That was, until he reached the last weapon in the lineup.

Leaning against the cabinet was an elongated barrel, topped off with a foregrip and trigger guard, before Eva could put a word in, Andreas snagged the rocket launcher and turned it over in his hands, glancing around the room for canisters.

"It's not exactly discreet," Eva said as he searched. "but then again neither are you. You're welcome, by the way."

"You did good, Eva," he replied, at last finding a canister. It was cylindrical in shape, with four holes drilled around a rotating mechanism, a little like something one might find in a revolver, only scaled up to fit rockets.

His ransacking uncovered over a dozen warheads the size of pepper shakers, Andreas filling the cylinder, then smacking it home inside the launcher, thumbing the safety. He attached the rest of the rockets to his rigging. On top of his Argent shards, he was basically a walking bomb at this point.

"All done?" Eva asked. "Good. Picking up a lot of traffic in the surrounding area. Don't linger."

Using a spare sling, he clipped it to the stock of the launcher, then slung the bulky weapon over his shoulder. With a satisfied nod, he turned back for the exit, each step followed by clinking noises as his new rockets jostled around.

Putrid air greeted him as he stepped back out into the yard, closing the cellar behind him as he returned to the street. He watched his footing as he stepped through the ruined fence, and when he looked up, his heart skipped a beat.

There was the Baroness, lounging on the hood of a car just a short distance to his right, one meaty leg crossed over the other. She was posing like a model on the cover of a swimsuit mag, her profile all curves and streamlined muscles, the way her wide hip rose like an ocean wave drawing his eyes.

"Well well well," Sharraya purred, putting on an air of pleasant surprise. "if it isn't the slippery, milk drinking mortal with a temper! What were you doing in that dank cellar just now?"

"I'll show you," Andreas replied.

His speed blinding, he unslung his launcher, peering down the sights and lining up the pins with the Baroness' head. He pulled the trigger, a rocket whistling from the barrel, its rear end igniting with jet flame. Sharrya's eyes bugged out of their sockets, her relaxed muscles now tensing as she rolled off the car, clutching her horns as the warhead flew over her head and blasted the wall behind her, sending bricks in all directions.

"Woah, nice shot!" Sharrya said, looking over her shoulder at the vapourising smoke cloud. "Really showed that building who is boss. Can we not have a civilised discussion for once, Andreas?"

"Unless you're offering your surrender, we have nothing to talk about," he replied, raising a brow as the Baroness dusted herself off, then leaned on a hip, as if he hadn't just tried to blow her to kingdom come just now.

"On the contrary, I have all sorts of questions you're going to answer," she replied, raising a claw. "The locations of your comrades in arms, for one. Assuming you're not all by your lonesome, of course."

Andreas considered just shooting her again, but the pressure he put on the trigger was only faint. She wasn't making any move to attack him, and she was bothering to exchange words rather than blows with him this time around. Perhaps he should humour her while he figured out a way to give her the slip.

"I've got a whole section of men just round the corner, actually, maybe you can come along and I'll introduce you?"

She chuckled, her husky voice oddly soothing. He would have called the noise pleasant under more mortal circumstances.

"So you are alone," she mused, reading him like a book. "A lonesome gnat, biting the toes of Hell's most accomplished Baron? What were you thinking?"

"Was about to ask you that," he shot back. "Should have brought down one of the other dropships. The other sergeants are way less thorough than I am."

"Dropships? Whatever are you on about, you blithering…."

She stopped herself, taking a moment to turn the gears in her head. "Oh," she added. "Oh you poor, poor thing. You were on that aircraft? It seems I am, indeed, partially to blame for this mess you've made, Andreas."

"That's Seargent to you," he corrected.

"Oh, forgive me!" she said, placing a hand on her endowed chest and feigning shock. "Are we not on a first name basis yet? Maybe we should get better acquainted – with you chained in a cell, perhaps?"

"Kinky," Andreas replied. "But I don't do prisoner, especially to pretentious bints with horns."

"Oh, you are feisty for such a little thing."

"And your ego's as big as you are. Now are we about done? I've got places to be."

"Have it your way, we can continue our banter another time. The dungeons of my cathedral are rather sparse as of late."

From over her shoulder, through the cracked windows and side streets, a dozen imps took up positions by her flank, teeth and claws bared. Overwatching this new force was a cacodemon, its cyclopean features grinning down at Andreas as it floated over the procession.

Andreas slotted a fresh rocket into the expended cylinder his chest tightening as a scuffle behind him drew his attention. He turned, spotting another dozen imps moving in from the opposite side of the street, maybe a hundred meters off but sprinting over on knuckles and knees. He was boxed in.

"Turn and run, Seargent," Eva said. "You can't fight this one."

Not needed to be told twice, Andreas turned on his heel, bolting up the steps towards the ornate building, the one with the pillars.

"You're not escaping this time!" Sharrya teased from behind him. "Seize him, you limp-wristed runts. Don't feast on him too much, I want him alive."

Bolts of inferno criss-crossed above him as he dove behind the closest pillar, slinging his launcher back in favour of his rifle. Exhaling, he leaned out of cover, spotting a pair of imps crawling up the steps after him. He sent them tumbling back with a burst of plasma, the bolts turning flesh to goop.

The rest of the pack retaliated with a barrage of inferno, scorching that entire side of the pillar, the demons keeping him pinned as their braver ilk tried to advance. He dashed for the building, spraying bolts from the hip as he withdrew inside.

A cursory glance confirmed the building was a library, and a fairly grand one at that, the lobby flanked on all sides by bookshelves, the units arranged in concentric rings that bloomed out the further they went. The floor cratered in places with chunks of debris fallen from the ceiling, the shelves were empty, and the aroma of burning paper hung thick in the air. The place was a state, much like everything else in this city.

The reception counter was mostly intact, Andreas vaulting over the varnished surface, the air growing hotter as fireballs streaked through the air. He turned out to return fire, catching an imp making to dash through the entryway, his head popping like a melon.

"What now, Eva?" he demanded. "Got me an exit strategy?"

"Working on it," she replied. "Hold them off for one, two Mississippi's."

Andreas sprayed down the entryway, forcing the imps behind the pillars or below the stairs, the demons popping up to hurl fireballs. Most of them were clustering around the flanks to the entrance, too hesitant to make a dash through his killing zone.

Holding out his new toy, Andreas hoisted his launcher over his shoulder, sending a rocket downrange. The whistling pitch of the flying rocket was almost serene, which was broken as the explosion hit one of the pillars, catching a handful of imps and sending stone and blood chunks everywhere in a spray.

The launcher made a satisfying clunk, the cylinder rotating like a giant revolver, the next ordnance sliding into the barrel.

"Eva…" he muttered, the explosion muffled by his helmet.

"Got it!" she replied after a pause. "Satellite imagery shows an exit up on the roof. Fire escape, maybe. It's on the other end of the library. You can jump to the next roof over and get some high ground."

"What is this, The Fugitive? I'm don't do leaps of faith, Eva..."

"Well now you do, because I've requested our good pilot friend for some support. This library will be coming down in about six minutes."

"A little warning would have been nice."

"I say that all the time about your deathwish plans. Now you know what it's like. Better get going, Seargent."

He waited for a break in the fireball volley, then made his move, firing over his flank as he moved deeper into the building, boots passing over hundreds of slips of paper gridding the ruined floor.

Pausing between two rows of bookshelves, Andreas took a kneel to reload his rifle, chancing a look over his shoulder as he heard heavy footfalls, their source unmistakable. Baroness Sharrya ducked beneath the entry arch, her tall horns grazing the threshold. Her sharp, demonic features darted in his direction, lips spreading in what might be a sneer or a smile.

"You talentless tacks!" she said, reaching back to shove a cowardly imp inside. "He's right there, just hit him!"

The demoness drew an arm back, like she was preparing to throw a punch. Green energy coalesced between her fingers, and she chucked a firebolt the size of a basketball, the comet zipping across the lobby like a bullet. Andreas raised his rifle to shield him from the flames, the ball slamming with enough force to send him skidding back a few inches.

He shouldered his weapon, hosing down the entrance with plasma bolts, his weapon still functional. The Baroness darted right, escaping the barrage, but her imp followers weren't so lucky, running straight into his sights as they followed their leader's example.

Over ten of the demons were slumped in a pile by the door, but Sharrya was inside now, he couldn't hold his chokepoint with her trying to get around him.

He swept the barrel of his rifle round as he fell back, trying to pinpoint her location. He could hear her footsteps, but the bookshelves were always in the way, arranged in grids that seemed to obscure as many sightlines as they opened up.

"You can't escape~" she called out, somewhere to his flank now. "You've been marked for death the moment you meddled in my affairs. You should consider my offer, Andreas…"

"Stop talking shit and come out here."

"As you wish…"

Something moved down the aisle ahead of him, Andreas bringing his rifle to bear. Sharrya was already tossing a fireball by the time he fired off a shot, the two broiling energies passing each other by as they headed for their targets.

The Baroness barked as the plasma bolt crashed into her shoulder, but Andreas voiced his own curse as her fireball found its mark in his stomach, the Seargent patting his rigging down as parts of the fabric were ignited. His combat armour could withstand intense heat, but her attacks hit like bricks, knocking the wind out of him.

He ducked behind the nearest shelf, sticking his rifle out and spraying the aisle with bolts without exposing himself. She threw another bolt that hit his cover, igniting the wood, Andreas cursing as he was forced to relocate.

As he made his way to the next aisle, an imp cut him off, the demon looking as surprised as he was as they rounded the corner at the same time. The demon made to swipe at him, but Andreas was faster, striking its chin with his rifle, the imp spinning like a top before falling. He put two bolts into the back of its head, then pressed on.

He knew Sharrya was three shelves ahead of him now, bracing himself as he heard her mirroring his movements. She wasn't stupid enough to run out into the open, however, only putting her horned head into the open as she peered in his direction. When she spotted him, she ducked away, Andreas putting down suppressive fire, hoping to melt her cover away for a clean shot.

Her grunt carried across the library, the shelf she was hiding behind starting to list. It toppled into the aisle, its bulk colliding with the next shelf along with a loud thunk. The next shelf followed the first, a domino chain of destruction rolling down the building towards where Andreas was standing.

The Seargent dove out of the way, a second away from being crushed as the shelving units came crashing down one after the other. Somewhere behind him an imp hollered as it was caught in the path of destruction.

Keeping his shoulder to the next shelf over, Andreas moved along the next shelve. The constant rumbling was making it hard to pick out her footsteps and tell where she was. She could be flanking him and he'd never know.

Something on his HUD pinged, a marker appearing in the next aisle over. Eva must be using her sensors to give him at least a general direction of the threat.

"Hiding will not save you," Sharrya growled, Andreas peaking round the unit to see her standing by the marker, head whipping from right to left. A short walk behind her was the far wall, with a door marked Exit signed above it. Another ping from Eva confirmed that was his way to the roof.

Letting his rifle hang in its sling, he wrapped an arm over his launcher, sending a canister towards the Baron's flank, Sharrya turning on him as he compressed the trigger. Her hearing was sharp, as were her reflexes, which is why he aimed at her feet rather than risk a direct hit.

His night vision temporarily burned out as the blast turned every surface of the atrium yellow, dust clouds rising from the impact point. Sharrya's hooves were directed upward as she was sent tumbling back, hitting the ground with a sick crack that made even Andreas wince.

He dashed up the aisle, leaping through the swirling smoke. He used Sharrya's backside as a jump board to spring himself through the smoke, for no real reason other than to annoy her.

Before he could reach the exit, two imps moved to intercept him from the left and right. Each chucked a fireball his way, but Andreas dropped beneath them to a kneel, finishing them both off fire a spray of electronic gunfire, continuing on his way like nothing had happened.

Whether the door was locked or not, Andreas shoved his weight into it all the same, the door banging against the wall beyond as he moved through.

Andreas found himself in the library's stairwell. A set of double backed steps went up, the other led down to the basement level of the building. Andreas rushed up the former, and a searing pain bloomed from the small of his back as a ball of flames kissed his rear.

He turned, gunning down a demon that had followed him through. As the imp dropped, his eyes locked with Sharrya's, the demoness still laying prone where he'd left her. If looks could kill…

He jumped up the steps two at a time, pain lingering in the base of his spine. These hits were starting to add up, but he couldn't stop yet. He paused his climb when he was directly above the door. A second later, and a conga line of wily imps were following in his wake, too bloodthirsty or stupid to realise he was waiting for them. Bracing from the hip, he swept his rifle from right to left, plasma severing the bodies of half a dozen imps before the demons knew what was going on.

Andreas trade fire with the demons as he climbed level after level, plugging the stairwell with bolts. He left scores of demonic cadaver in the wake of his ascent, the imps paying no thought for their fallen comrades as they continued their frenzied climb after him. This Baroness really wanted him gone if she was willing to throw so many into the meat grinder.

"Andreas!"

Said Baroness' voice was like a shriek of a wraith, her horned head appearing in the well.

"Would you kindly desist with the rockets? You don't know how hard it is to stay coruscate in the face of this dilapidated realm."

"If only your combat skills were as broad as your vocabulary," Andreas shot back. "You'd have offed me way sooner!"

He moved as fast as his legs would take him, soon reaching the last curve of the stairs. Pausing before the rooftop access, he brought up his launcher, angling it down the well. Every step was occupied by imps, dead or alive, the ones with more gusto leaping up the well from railing to railing like apes.

Andreas squeezed off three rockets in quick succession, blasting chunks out of the staircase at several different points. It wouldn't slow the demons down all that much given their obvious athletics, but his efforts took down scores of the chaff, the shockwaves causing several more to lose their footing and tumble back to ground level.

Satisfied, he moved through the exit, dashing out into open air, the wind whipping at his helmet. The roof was barren save for a few air conditioner units off to the side, the grills and fans rusted and broken.

"The northern face, the one on the right," Eva chimed in. "That's where you need to jump. Two minutes until Shrike two-two is here, by the way."

He tuned to the right, and as if on cue, the rotund body of a cacodemon rose from the lip of the building, a tongue the size of a dog sliding out to lick at its fangs. Like a hornet defending its nest, the flying demon zipped in for a low pass, a wet gurgle escaping its lips.

Andreas rolled out of the way, hearing the demon snap its jaws in the air. He produced his launcher in one smooth motion, aiming up as the demon turned about, making to swoop again. He fired off a rocket, square at its facea, the dumb creature too slow to get out of the way.

In fact, it actually split its maw open upon seeing the encroaching warhead, sealing its chapped lips over it and swallowing loudly. Whether it was hungry or just too stupid, Andreas couldn't tell.

The detonation was muffled by its intestines, the cacodemon torn apart in a shower of red mist, chunks of its hide falling to the roof with tens of wet slaps, a few errant meat chunks plastering over Andrea's crouched form.

"Fuck me," Andreas gasped, wiping his visor with a hand. "that was like a Death Star of red meat."

The area clear, his boots clocked against the bitumen as he rushed over to the edge, resting a hand on a knee as he caught his breath. The next building over was a tier shorter than the library, separated by an alleyway four meters across. Its surface was occupied by skylight boxes, which should make a descent easy going, but he was getting ahead of himself.

He gulped as he peered down the sheer drop, vertigo making the ground stretch further away. Andreas wasn't afraid of heights, but his palms began to sweat beneath his gloves all the same.

"You can make it," Eva encouraged, no doubt reading his rising heart rate as a sign of hesitance. "-with a running start, of course. Come on, Seargent, that Shrike's about to make a pass!"

Growling at the drop, he moved back a few feet, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he prepared himself. Fuck, maybe he was acrophobic…

"Just try not to think about it," Eva said.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have legs. Or a brain!"

"And I'm still twice as smart as you! Jump, Seargent! That Baron is right behind you!"

The door he'd just come through snapped off its hinges, the streamlined body of the Baroness appearing through the frame. The intimidation factor was somewhat downplayed when Sharrya had to get down on her knees to squeeze through the opening, turning her shoulders until she was almost facing the sky.

She managed to free her wide hips with a pop, the Baroness grumbling to herself as she rose to her regel height.

"Nowhere left to go, Andreas," she began, gesturing at him with a hand broiled with flame. "Seize him, my loyal subjects! Chain and collar him, so that he may soon know the vast punishments of crossing Hell!"

Andreas waited for the imps to come running, but they never did. The stairwell was the most serene thing he'd seen since the crash.

Sharrya spared the doorway a harsh glance, arm still beckoning.

"Any time now, imps!" she called, her tone touched with hesitance. "Get up here at once, I have him cornered."

When a moment of silence passed, she rolled her eyes, moving back to peer down the stairwell.

"Oh. You killed them all. Where is my my cacodemon? I was sure I sent for one."

She turned to give him a quizzical glance, Andreas pointing over her shoulder. She examined the radius of ichor spread across the roof, and voiced a solitary word.

"Bother."

She made a snorting sound, then faced him once again, the impact of her heavy steps reverberating through his feet as she stalked closer.

"Bravo, Andreas, I must command you on your combat prowess. It's not every day I get to meet an opponent worthy of my time."

"What's with all the compliments?" Andreas asked, a part of him eager to delay the jump. "We're at war."

"Oh, I'm always at war with some alien race or other. I may be a warlord, but that does not mean I reject the fine art of conversing with a native. It's the only thing that piques my interest these days."

"How about me shitting on your parade this morning? Did that pique your interest too?"

She threw her head back and laughed, her generous bosom rocking in its sling.

"See? This is why I compliment you, Andreas. How's that human saying go? 'You walk the walk, talk the talk?' I like that phrase, I must write it down once this is all over."

"You won't be waiting long," Andreas murmured. His eyes flicked above the Baroness' head, noting an aerodynamic profile was defining itself in the clouds above.

His shifting gaze was barely noticeable, but Sharrya seemed to sense his change in demeanour, and she turned her back on him to search for what he was looking for.

That was his chance, and he was out of time. He bolted for the ledge, praying the demoness wouldn't hit him in the back and send him tumbling to his death.

"What the-? Are you jumping you mad fool?" Sharrya called. She said something else, but Andreas didn't hear it. All his focus was on crossing the gap.

Leading with his right foot, he planted his boot on the ledge, his toes dangling over the lip. He threw himself into freefall, trying not to look down as he let gravity take hold. He cried out a curse word as his arms whirled in circles, and for a horrible moment it looked like he wouldn't make it, that he'd plummet to his own death right in front of the Baron's eyes. A rather unceremonious end, all things considered.

His worries were in vain. Everything from the waist up collided with the adjacent rooftop, his weapons creaking as he pulled himself away from the edge. He flipped onto his back, glancing over the drop to see the Baroness glancing at him, her expression one of mild astonishment.

"Here's a saying!" Andread called, flipping her the bird. "Eat shit."

The howling din of a propulsion engine rose into providence, Sharrya finally taking note of the jet fighter diving in from the heavens.

"By the Maykyrs," Sharrya groaned over the sonic screech. "Not again!"

The wings of the Shrike craft were rowed with bombs, and as the first pairs released from their couplings, Sharrya fell into a run with the same urgency as Andreas had. The jet screamed overhead, a grey blur that left a shimmer in its wake, his helmet automatically muffling the intense feedback of the engine.

The bombs arced through the air for only a second, touching down on the library's roof. There was a short delay, and then the world was set alight, giant mushroom clouds projecting in synchronised rows behind the fleeing Baroness.

Andreas raised a hand to the scorching heat, watching through his fingers as the Baroness was lifted off her hooves. Whether this was by the shockwave or through the power of her giant legs, he wasn't sure, but he could be sure of, was that her flightpath was bringing her right toward him.

He rolled to the side, Sharrya hitting his vacated spot with all the force of a dropped forklift. The rooftop of this building wasn't sturdy enough to survive the weight of the demon, the Baroness yelling out as the surface caved in beneath her.

Andreas would have found the turn of events fortunate, if she hadn't reached out and grabbed his leg, pulling him through the gap with her.

Gravity carried them into the building, where a second surface soon broke the Baroness' fall. She formed a crater below her sprawled form, but the carpeted ground didn't break. Sharrya wheezed as Andreas' tumble was broken by her stomach, her abs like stones beneath his chest. As his glazed vision slowly cleared, he found himself inches from her chiselled stomach, her flesh slightly pliant beneath his hands. Demon or not, he had to compliment her on her workout regime.

"What are you looking at, mortal?" Sharrya sputtered, short of breath. Realising he was staring, he rolled off her stomach, falling a significant distance to the ground beside her. "Maykyrs, did you – ack – have to land right on me?"

"It's your fault you fat fuck," Andreas groaned. He was tired, his chest and arms burned, and now he was hurting all over thanks to this demonette's stunt. As such, he could only manage to weakly slice her using his newfound cleaver, cutting her arm like he was spreading butter on a slice of toast.

"Ow! Bastard!" She delivered a siwft knee to his flank, sending him rolling away, his momentum carrying him into a cubicle wall. It seemed they'd fallen into some sort of office space.

Her energy depleted, Sharrya meekly used the opposing cubicle to lift herself to a sitting position. Andreas tumbled across the floor towards her, the Baroness rolling her eyes as he raised his cleaver.

"Can you not just give it up for five seconds?" she demanded, seizing his arm and shoving him back. "Damn it, I think that fall gave me a hernia…"

The next time he came at her, she planted her hoof in his chest, depositing him right back into the cubicle. This time he stayed down, pins and needles shooting up his limb as he raised an arm.

"Alright," he groaned, staring at the gaping wound in the ceiling. Thick smoke trails rose into the sky from the library's direction, curling at the top as the winds brushed them. "Alright," he said again. "Time out."

"That's the least I deserve after being bombed all dammed day," the Baroness huffed, her hands roaming to nurse her extremities. "Do you know how much of a toll it takes on the soul to heal such grievous wounds?"

"Cry me a river you fuck," he muttered.

"So impudent," Sharrya chuckled, lazing against the wall as she stared at him with those green eyes. She had no irises to speak of, no features, and he found it increasingly difficult to meet her gaze in the following silence.

Andreas fished a vial out of his pack and placed it in the slot under his forearm, the liquid trailing away as the injectors did their work. The silence reached an uncomfortable octave, until the demon decided to break it, folding her arms over her shapely chest.

"It's rather stuffy in here. Why don't you remove that helmet?"

"The Hell for?" he asked, the muscles in his chest tensing.

"What?" she asked, tilting her head at the odd phrase. "No, not for Hell, for me. I wish to see your face, properly."

"I don't think so, Pinky."

"My status as Baron affords me every luxury a demon can dream of," she said, staring him down from her formidable height. "As such, it's come with the slight caveat that I can get very angry when I don't get what I want. You don't want me to anger me, because I might just consider coming over there and ripping off your helmet and your limbs."

Her tone was off-hand, sweet, but there was a deep hunger in her glowing, emerald eyes, one that made him all too aware that he was conversing with a higher demon of Hell. Her patience wasn't finite.

"Alright, crazy horns, alright. You want to see my pretty face?"

After a brief pause, he raised his hands to his helmet, the demon's head tilting once more.

"I hope you know what you're doing…" Eva whispered.

"Relax, she would have killed me way earlier if she'd wanted."

"That's comforting…"

His visor rose from his neck, Andreas setting his helmet on the floor, the hot air washing over his features as Sharrya looked him over with a strange look on her face.

"Hm. Quite the developed little specimen," she mused. "Nice scar on your chin there, not that I needed proof you aren't lacking in battle."

She leaned over, his muscles bleeding tension as she extended one claw his way, pressing it against his cheek. She turned his head to the side, those blazing eyes drinking him in.

"Your complexion is odd," she noted, grinning when he slapped her finger away. "as is your accent. Are you from this country? This 'Spain'?"

He considered lying to her, but what was the harm in it really? They'd already spilt one another's blood, talking about home was rather tame in comparison.

"No, Romania," he answered. "It's not much different from this place, mountain chains on one side, the Black Sea on the other. I'd ask about where you're from," he added. "but I think I've got a good idea on what Hell looks like."

"I'll have you know that Hell consists of several differing environments," she replied, turning her nose up at him. "Each one home to their own unique climes and landmarks, not unlike your own continents and countries."

"And which of these cesspools were you crapped out of?" he asked.

"We call it Shattered Peaks," she replied, staring at the ceiling dreamily. "It is a wasteland of blackstone towers rising from pools of lava, interspersed with canyons that run deep into Hell's blighted heart. Loose rocks tumble from the caps constantly, making treks from peak to peak all the more arduous."

"Sounds cozy."

"Oh, it was! There was nothing quite like waking up to see the crimson skies reflecting off the lava lakes and… Oh, you were making a joke," she noted, flashing him a sideways scowl. "And here I thought we were about to have a conversation that wasn't us trading insults."

"And why are we talking?" he asked. "I'm not your friend, and you sure as Hell aren't mine."

"I am one of the finest commanders ever spawned from the Peaks," Sharrya began. "Hundreds of years and thousands of slain foes have seen me rise to the top of the demonic food chain, my authority has even surpassed other Baron's from time to time."

"You've got an ego, we get it."

"My point is," she growled, irritated by his comment. "Once you slice your way to the top, all who would stand in your way are no longer brave enough to try. As such, my status has left me in a position surrounded by those with all the strength of wet tissue paper. Every day sees me accosted by whelps who simp and fawn over me, imps that only grow spines once my back is turned, or cacodemons that… well, you can see how untalkative they are."

"That must be so fucking bad, having servants drool at your feet. I feel so much for you, really."

"You see?" she exclaimed. "That is why we are speaking. You are so refreshing! No one has ever talked to me the way you do, Andreas. You don't shy away from speaking your mind, even if it's going to be bad for your health. I haven't felt this compelled to talk since m-my… my…" She creased her lip, masking her stutter behind a devilish grin, but Andreas saw it. Had she just hesitated?

"You intrigue me, Andreas," she added. "Take that as a curse or a blessing, but either way, take it, use it. Few would ever have the chance."

"Okay…" he said, skeptically. He wasn't sure if she was challenging or inviting him into conversing with her, perhaps demons didn't see a difference. The idea she was toying with him rubbed him the wrong way, but he'd take her words over her fireballs any day.

"How'd you climb up the food chain?" he eventually asked. "I thought Baron's were automatically the top dogs."

"Interested in my background, Andreas?" she cooed, crossing her long legs as she settled in. "If you think I was born into prestige, banish the thought. Reward is not given freely out in the Peaks. It is taken. And I was but an insect buzzing at the feet of gods when I was roughly your size," she said, looking him up and down. "Each day I felt the brush of death, but it is the tribulations of the past that shape us into warriors of the future, and I was not found lacking in the former. Sometimes I went starved for food or souls, but the satisfaction I felt after every small victory was pure bliss."

"So you liked getting your ass kicked?"

"Like? Of course not, but neither did I hate it, necessarily. There's a greyness to being a small little newt, progressing herself out of the muck and into the Peaks proper. The challenges were great, but the reward mirrored the effort. What about you?" she asked. "How did you become such a troublesome little soldier?"

"Trying to get state secrets out of me?" he shot back.

"I am merely curious about your odd tactics," she explained, listing off her points on her claws. "Rather than engage me directly, you employ hit and run attacks, relying on subterfuge and trickery to deal damage, using the shadows and your intimate knowledge of the environment when things go awry. You are like a knife with legs."

"And this is the part where you say I'm a coward and should fight like a real warrior?" he asked.

"On the contrary, I find your ability to adapt spectacular. You and your whole species are outnumbered more than you think, yet your world has not yet caved despite our predictions. You just refuse to die, Andreas."

"My friend Eva always said I had a thick skull."

Sharrya chortled, touching a claw to her mouth as she composed herself.

"Funny little thing, aren't you? And so stoic, as well. Will you not indulge my curiosity? One warrior to another?"

He was still hesitant to the answer, but in the end he caved. After all, there were no state secrets in his personal life.

"I used to guard demons before I killed them. Security officer for this base out in the Caribbean. Didn't see much action until a couple subjects' broke containment. Shot my first demon during the chaos. I evacuated my sector with minimal casualties, and someone up top took notice, cause next thing I knew I was offered special forces training."

"Talk about a career jumpstart! How did you become a guard?"

"Security officer."

"Yes, officer. It doesn't sound so glamorous."

"Well it was the only gig I could find after failing just about everything else. I tried becoming a lawyer like my brother, but as I said, thick skull."

"Law-yer?"

"Someone who gives legal advice to people. You know, laws and stuff? Who am I kidding, you don't have rules where you come from. Anyhow, turns out that whole saying about the pen and the sword was horseshit in my case, because I was much better with a gun in my hand."

"And so you climbed into the upper echelons of your military? Your story and mine are quite similar…"

"You could say that. Brutal training, but I got paired up with some of the best, and I got some sweet benefits plus a fat check. All worth it."

"I'm glad you and I have that in common, though I cannot imagine this world's brutality matches my own. What were your duties as a gua- officer, excuse me."

"Well, I-"

"He made sure the mortally challenged stayed in their place!"

Sharrya recoiled in shock as she scanned the office. Seeing a demon almost jump out of her skin would have been funny if she wasn't cradling liquid fire in her hands.

"Who was that?" Sharrya demanded. "Show yourself, interloper! Nobody interrupts my conversations."

"Interloper?" Eva echoed. "You're the one on our planet, you manipulative… manipulator!"

"Wow, I'll have to remember that line," Sharrya scoffed. "Am I going crazy, or is that voice coming from your helmet?"

"Don't worry about Eva," he answered. "She's my… assistant," he eventually said. Revealing too much about the AI was a line he wasn't ready to cross.

"So you were telling the truth, you're not alone," Sharrya mused. "And how long have you been perving on our talk, Eva?" she added, gesturing at the helmet. "Eavesdropping is a horrible word where I come from."

"Unlike warcrimes," Eva replied. "Seargent, can I have a word? Away from the scary demon lady?"

Shrugging, Andreas stood, swiping the helmet under his arm. He spotted a room sectioned off from the office behind him, and he circled around the cubicles toward it.

"Don't mind me," Sharrya called. "I'll be here, healing my fractures and burns and what have you."

Glancing back to make sure she hadn't moved, Andreas stepped into what appeared to be the break room for this place, with a vending machine in one corner and a fridge in the other, the smell of rancid food leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

"Something up, Eva?" he asked.

"Put me on."

As he slid the helmet over his cranium, the visor closed over his face, cracking against his knuckle that happened to be in its path.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hand. "What was that for?"

"Explain yourself," Eva demanded.

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Seargent. You are exchanging life stories with a Baron of Hell!" She practically shouted those last three words, his ears ringing as the speakers struggled to compensate. "You're colluding with the enemy!"

"C-Colluding? It was just a chat!"

"She's probing you for information! Everything you've told her can and will be used against you! Just like in those movies you always go on about. You need to stop before she knows too much about you."

"I wrangled some stuff out of her too! That whole thing about the Shattered Peaks? Reverse phycology."

"That's not what that was," Eva sighed. "And as fascinating as it is to hear about how a Baron murders her way to a leadership position, I don't see how that helps us right now. You need to kill her or leave, not chat."

"That walking chilli pepper is practically invincible, Eva. You saw how she ate those rockets. Unless you want me to use another Shard to wipe her off this Earth…"

"I want you to get away from her. Oh, but look who I'm talking to! Why don't you go back and relax, talk about the weather maybe? It's not like we a have a mission to see through."

"Alright, alright, quit your yapping, we'll go."

He reemerged from the break room, making his way back to the Baroness. He considered just giving her the slip, but he didn't want to test the demoness by being rude. Crazy girls like her didn't appreciate a guy walking out on them, he knew that from experience.

As he rounded the cubicle wall, there Sharrya was, right where he left her, the demon raising a hand in greeting.

"Ah, there you are, excellent. I was certain I'd have to chase you down again. Now where were we?"

"I think we were about to say our goodbyes," Andreas replied. "I got places to go, people to see. You do to, I'd wager, being the authoritative megalomaniac that you are."

"Is that your idea, or your little girlfriend's?"

"Eva and I aren't an item," he clarified. "She hasn't got the body."

"Like you do?" the AI muttered. The Baroness snorted, and Andreas realised Eva had used the external speakers to include the demon in the exchange.

"I suppose this little truce has gone on long enough," Sharrya said, her horns brushing the ceiling as she stood. Andreas reached for his weapons, but Sharrya raised a hand. "That's not what I meant. I'm saying I agree with you, and we both have places to be."

"You're not going to stop me?" he asked. "Why the Hell not?"

"You provided me with a few minutes of delicious entertainment. It's only fitting I repay you with a few minutes of a head start. Call it… being a good sport."

"Good sport? You serious?"

"Well, I also cannot feel anything from the elbows down, and there's an odd stabbing sensation in my back. I'm not sure I'd be able to catch you regardless."

"Don't expect pity points from me," Andreas said.

"I'd never dream of it, little prey."

She must get some sick sense of thrill by continuing this chase between them, but Andreas wasn't about to complain, she wasn't the only one who was wounded, and she had the advantage of demonic regeneration. He'd have to tough out his bruises the old-fashioned way.