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)

1. Chapter 1

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Art by karlbaldon

The Baron's Prize

-xXx-

This wasn't a war.

Those four words looped through her mind as she placed her hands on the rail guard, turning her snout up at the vista. The continent sprawled like a sea of dirt and ash in all the cardinal directions, broken up by blocky protrusions that had once been settlements. These ruins curved northward like veins, terminating at a chain of crooked mountaintops that brought forth recollections of her birthplace, their jagged shapes rising up into the sky like the grasping energies of sacrificed souls.

A distasteful aura radiated from the land, a swirling crimson fog hanging thick upon the air. It oozed from the contusions that pulled apart the ruins in clefts of pink flesh, turning what had once been stretches of flora and buildings into engorged pustules bristling with wriggling appendages.

These swaths of corruption were fleeting. small enough to be covered by her hand, but the gluttony of Hell was unending, and every mote of dust would be consumed in time. Hell didn't even need to deploy its legions, the planet would be laid to waste through no other cost but time.

How trite of us.

The natives of this planet – this Earth – were coincidentally susceptible to the influence of Sin, leading further credence to those four words looping through her mind like a bad thought. Within two weeks of invasion, most of the major indigenous landmarks had been destroyed. Within a month, and entire countries had been ceded to Hell's armies, and any resistance had been reduced to pitiful squabbles lacking meaningful difficulty.

"One would think promises from the Gods would hold the most merit," she muttered aloud. "but it seems even the ascendent can be audacious. Wouldn't you agree, priest?"

She had heard his footsteps before he'd even entered the antechamber, his shoeless feet slapping against the stairs with a wet quality she found wholly disturbing. She turned from the railing, seeing a scrawny figure pass through the archway on the far side of the room. He was cloaked in a dark robe gilded with yellow trimmings, his beady face obscured behind a cowl. Only his forearms and feet were exposed, and branded upon his pale skin were several runes and symbols of the Dark Lord, each curve and trace glowing with yellow energy.

Those runes gave him some meek measure of leadership and power among the other corrupted humans in her charge, but his authority dwindled in the face of her own, mouthpiece and lesser creature that he was.

"You are right of course, my Baroness," he replied, his high-pitched tone torturing her ear-holes. "Every mortal and immortal alike lives only for itself. E-Except you, of course, you deserve better than their falsities."

"A world to conquer, with armies millions strong," she quoted, gesturing behind her with a red arm. "A gift to expand your dominion – those were the precise words. Yet this city was halfway abandoned by the time the portals opened. A pack of mentally-impaired cacodemons could have taken care of this place, for all the 'conquering' that was 'gifted' to me."

"Your campaign has not been without its battles," the priest pointed out, raising a crooked finger. "The Rallypoint to the north yet stands."

Her nostrils flared. The Rallypoint was a human fortress hugging the coastline, a decrepit attempt by the natives to hold claim to their world, it had played a key part in harbouring the natives when Hell arrived at the city outskirts. She had seen it as an annoyance at first, but over time, the Rallypoint had stood fast against her advances, even her saboteurs had failed to penetrate the minds of its denizens. Attacking it directly was folly, those giant guns lining the battlements obliterating anything that walked or flew too close. Such stalwart defences had inspired caution among the demonic. Even the wild packs of imps gave the fortress a wide berth.

"A two-month-long siege does not constitute battle, you imbecile," she snarled. "A Titan would make quick work of those cretins, but it seems my wait for reinforcement is eternal, and I must resort to letting starvation do my fights for me."

"The Lord only spares the great Ancients for more… significant targets," the priest reminded, bowing his head when she glared at him. "N-Not to imply your goals are not lucrative, my Baroness. Your grip on this territory is fierce, the cowards hiding behind those walls are proof enough. In addition, the amount of souls you've offered is only surpassed by the magnitude of your-"

"Oh, be silent you ministrating monkey."

"S-Sorry, your excellence, sorry..."

The priest gulped as she turned away, rolling her eyes in the process. He wasn't really a priest, just another acolyte with more rituals under his belt than the average corrupted mortal. She just liked to call him that to try and goad him on, always lacing the word with a hint of sarcasm, but he never wavered in being a kiss-ass.

"Did I ever tell you of my exploits in the Burning Peaks?" she asked, not bothering to wait for his answer. "My first time leading a force was there. I took a hundred Barons into the crags, tearing apart whatever moved. The ravines were so tight that the gore piled up to our knees. Blood and ash paved our path and it was glorious."

She licked her tusks, almost moaning that last part out.

"Where I come from, battles went unending, and all one sees is death. Now what do I see?" she asked, her mood flipping as she raised her arms. "Milquetoasts. Why we ever considered this planet a conquest is beyond me. More bountiful souls could have been found elsewhere."

"The Maykyrs offering this planet was a bargain, the quality of human souls had little to do with it," the priest corrected, backing away when she growled down at him.

"Do not speak the name of those condescending cabbages, they have made nothing," she snapped, eyeing the horizon once more. "Oh, but their planet, on the other hand… Imagine the energy that could be had if we conquered lands cultivated by Gods. The thought alone is positively delicious…"

A flock of flying imps soared before her balcony from left to right, their bat-like wings folding out to catch on the gale, quickly distancing into little dots.

"Alas, I must content myself with naught but this stalemate," she grumbled, leaning her weight on the railing. "A single stronghold that is too small to be considered a threat to warrant a Titan, but large enough to deter my numbskulled legions."

"Perhaps the news I bring may lighten your… surly, mood?" the priest suggested, the sound of his slapping feet growing louder as he drew deeper into the chamber.

"I assumed you didn't climb all those steps just to prester me," she muttered. "Out with it, priest."

"As you requested, we've been monitoring the human channels for messages, and our saboteurs have intercepted a transmission," he explained.

"Tell me why some errant radio signal is worth disturbing my thoughts, again?"

"Well, we are not quite sure what the contents of the package are – yet – we are confident its recipient was someone within the Rallypoint."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course it was for the fortress, you fool, where else would a message go to out here?"

"F-Forgive me, Baroness, my lowly assessments are not worth your ear…"

"Who sent this transmission? Do you at least know that much?"

"You can see for yourself, esteemed Baroness," the priest said, daring to cross the chamber. He seemed to shrink away from her the closer he came to the balcony, her presence disturbing his mortal mind on some base level. The feeling was mutual.

"We should be able to see them. Right… about…. eh… any moment now…"

He glanced worriedly up at her, wincing away when he saw her rapidly draining temper. She was about to ask what he meant by 'them' when the priest raised his calloused hand.

"There! Right there!"

She followed his finger, the digit pointing westward, where the scorched land gave way to ocean, the shimmering water reflecting the sullied shades of the sky. Through the swirling fog at the limits of her vision, three specks appeared, coasting along just above the sea.

As they watched, she began to pick out details. Their flanks were adorned with stubby wings, and their were windows on the noses. Those were aircraft, bombers or maybe transports judging by their bulky shape. The aircraft weren't heading towards her cathedral, but their destination was obvious enough.

"So the human bastion calls for aid?" she mused, folding her arms. "That is far too few ships to sustain an evacuation, they must be carrying troops."

"A brilliant assessment, my Baron! Those transports may be carrying a whole section of armed soldiers."

"I am almost tempted to let them pass," she said, tracking the craft as they banked, flying adjacent to the coastline. "A few squads of fresh souls would provide some modicum of entertainment."

"Perhaps the Baroness… could?" the priest asked, wringing his hands together.

"And let them strengthen the Rallypoint's defences?" she countered. "Who asked you for suggestions, priest?"

"A thousand pardons, my Baron…"

"Explain to me now why I shouldn't slay you for treason," she stated, fixing him with a cold glare. "One would think you still harbour care for your former kin, asking your Baroness to show them mercy…"

"M-My Baroness, I serve only to please you!" the priest stammered, bowing his head until it practically hit the floor. "You misunderstand! O-Or rather, th-the choice of my words was foolish of me! I only mean to say that, if you wish to relive your glory days of the Peaks, maybe allowing the humans a small semblance of hope could be the first step on that road..."

She looked over the vista and thought about it. "Interesting hypothesis. Go on."

"A batch of reinforcements could tip the scales of this stalemate," he continued. "They wouldn't ask for assistance if they didn't plan on acting upon it. You may get your battles yet if this situation bears fruit."

"Intentionally put my enemies in a stronger position, as a means to break up the norm?" she said. "That is one of your more… interesting ideas, I'll grant you that."

She didn't think a single section of soldiers was much of a contention, but she was thinking from Hell's perspective. For the rebels, that might as well be a whole other army coming to help. She couldn't afford to let her visions of the past lead to complacency, however, who knew what other cargo those transports carried?

"Your suggestion pleases me," she eventually conceded. "I will let those transports go to their little fort."

"Of course, Baroness, I will-"

"Except one," she interjected. "Order a pack of cacodemons to tear one asunder, I don't care which, but the other transports are to be left untouched. Tell them I will personally rip out their eyes out if they fail to do so."

"Yes, yes, of course." The priest bowed repeatedly as she listed off her orders. When he didn't dismiss himself, she thrust an arm at the staircase, and he slinked off without a word, vanishing through the arch.

She heaved a sigh of priest-free air, scratching at a horn as she watched the aircraft soar north. It wasn't long before a series of shapes rose from the base of her cathedral, the rotund bodies of her cacodemons taking flight, ten or so of them beelining for the coast.

She was too far away to witness the finer details of the interception, but a few minutes later, and one of the aircraft was arching down towards the ground, the cacodemons following the smoking fuselage like vultures finishing off a dying animal. As requested, the other two ships were allowed to leave unmolested, disappearing over the hills and vanishing from sight. Destroying all three would have been savagely easy for her flying demons, those transports didn't even have mounted guns to defend themselves.

As she'd posited, this wasn't a war. It was a slaughter, and just where was the nuance in that?

-xXx-

Cold wind rushed against his black combat armour as Andreas emerged onto the deck, tugging his helmet beneath his arm as he descended the gantry. Dozens of flight personnel dashed by, their shouts distorted by the sound of spooling engines and warning sirens.

Stencilled beneath his boots was a giant logo, the symbol emblazoned at the forefront of the steel runway. Three bars formed a wall around a globe of Earth, the letters ARC written beneath it. The ARC was the first – and only – line of defence against the demonic invasion of Earth, and the carrier acted as the mobile command centre for the entire Coalition.

The fleet had been patrolling the North Atlantic since its inception, searching for key opportunities to strike back at Hell's forces. His stomach just couldn't tolerate the constant rocking, and he couldn't wait to be back on dry land despite the demons making it their new playground.

He proceeded over a pair of painted flight lanes, arriving at the runway's flank. About a dozen identical dropships stretched down the flight deck, their aerodynamic hulls pockmarked with exhaust vents and thrusters, their matte grey paint jobs reflecting the morning light. Pilots in jumpsuits and matching flight helmets could be seen inside the bubble-shaped canopies, giving thumbs-ups to the engineers working the last-minute flight checks.

He made for the closest dropship along, the thrusters on the twin nozzles flaring to life, Andreas wincing at the piercing noise as he pulled on his helmet. It connected to the collar of his chestpiece with a pneumatic hiss, creating an airtight seal, his breath fogging up his visor as it automatically dimmed like a pair of transition glasses. A heads-up display flickered on in the corners of his vision, graphics like his ammunition counter and vital signs glowing in shades of blue. Gear like this cost more than most marines would make in a lifetime, but that wasn't just because of the fancy HUD and accompanying pressure suit.

"All set in there, Eva?" Andreas asked, rapping the top of his helmet with a fist.

"Stop hitting me you bozo," a synthetic, but distinctly female voice replied inside his helmet. "I may be surrounded by layers of Kevlar and synthetic plating, but my lattice still responds to kinetic energy."

ARC had uploaded Eva into his armoured suit, the AI serving as a mouthpiece for the higher-ups and as his personal combat assistant. Most commissioned marines in the Coalition had some sort of helper on-call, be that a real person or otherwise, and Eva was running across several platforms aside from Andreas', her main power core situated somewhere on the lower deck of the carrier.

He moved round to the rear of the dropship, stepping onto the lowered ramp. Lining either side of the cramped interior were rows of crash couches, all save for one occupied by his fellow marines, though their armour was painted over in the standard green. The cargo bay was separated from the cockpit by a small archway, the pilot peeking through to give him a thumbs-up.

"The section's all ready, sir," the pilot said, his voice coming through the speakers in his helmet, Eva doing him the courtesy of patching him into the local channel. "Just say the word."

Andreas signalled back to the pilot, and the ramp began to close, the whine of hydraulics filling the cabin. The spooling engines rumbled the grating beneath his feet, Andreas moving down the aisle towards the free seat.

"Seargent," one of the marines greeted, offering a prim salute, the rest of the seven men inside following suit.

"Time for formalities has passed, boys," Andreas replied, waving for them to be at ease. "It's Hell on Earth out there, hope you brought enough ammo."

He planted himself in the crash couch, placing his pack and weapon into the slots beside the chair, reaching up to secure the harness over his chest. As soon as he was strapped in, he felt the aircraft roll forward, pitching to the side as the pilot lined them up with the runway.

"This is a bad plan," Eva chimed. "The demonic presence on the Spanish coast is at level four going on five. Approaching via boat would be a far safer option."

"All part of the job description," Andreas replied, drumming his fingers against the harness.

"Considering you were a security guard when this all started, I doubt that 'flying through demon-infested skies with volatile Argent cells in the hold,' was in your job description."

"Security officer," Andreas corrected. "And they're not volatile, those cases are indestructible."

"Clearly you haven't been to Mars in a while. Some of those bases were completely vapourised."

He lurched as the dropship took off, reaching a hundred kilometres an hour in an instant and beginning a climb. He knew there were pistons built into the runway that would snap forward once the aircraft was at full throttle, sort of like a giant spring-loader built for planes. His left side crushed into his harness, the pressure relenting once the aircraft began to level out.

Through the portholes, he could see they were banking, Andreas looking out to see a great ocean spanning the world below. There were other ships dotting the water, curdles of foam forming arrowheads in their wake. The flotilla was comprised of hundreds of naval craft of every type, from patrol boats to battleships, forming a protective cordon around the carrier. The mobile command centre was giant compared to the rest of the vessels, almost a kilometre long and a hundred meters wide, its sleek hull bristling with guns and communication equipment, the conning tower towards the rear serving as the main bridge, the runway jutting out from below it like a metal maw.

The pilot turned them about, the groaning of metal subsiding as they closed ranks with two other dropships, forming a line. There was a series of comms checks on the local channel as the rest of the section reported in, Andreas replying when it was his turn. Once the pilots had matched speeds, the aircraft turned in synchronicity towards the east, shedding altitude and coming close enough to the ocean that he could make out the waves. Once out of the protection of the ships, they didn't dare fly much higher, as the mist rising off the water would provide cover for their approach, and it had been known that demons liked to use the cloud layers to set up ambushes.

"The admiral has assigned a squadron of fighters to escort," Eva said, pausing before continuing. "Should be able to see them off the portside."

For a moment all he saw was mist, and then a shape began to emerge, the profile of a fighter jet unmistakable. Its jet-black wings were inverted, angled towards the cockpit rather than away like most traditional jets, racks of red-nosed missiles mounted along the hardpoints. Its single thruster projected a cone of blue afterburner, easily outpacing the slower, larger dropships.

The fighter pilot tilted his wings in greeting before soaring up and out of view. A compliment of supersonic jets should put the antsy AI at ease, Andreas thought.

Ten minutes of flying over the ocean passed before there were details on the horizon, Andreas straining out of his seat to look through the cockpit canopy. The sea crashed into a coastline, giving way first to shallow tidepools, then to soil and cliffs. Andreas didn't find living on a boat all that appealing, but seeing the state of the land, it may as well be paradise in comparison.

He could remember a time where Earth was lush with the colour green, complimented by the azure shade of a bright sky. This was no longer the case. Dirt had turned to sullied ash, the remnants of sprawling woodlands reduced to skeletal husks, jutting out of the ground like tombstones. Valleys ran through these ashlands, and while the ocean was still home to water, these ravines now sported cesspools of lava, bubbling with yellow goop that could be seen even from here. These magma tides burned against the shore, forming ovals of obsidian that scabbed the ocean's edges.

The closer they flew to the shore, the more the skies took on a more sinister appearance, the clouds choked with soot, flanked by crimson auroras. Even the turbulence had picked up, Andreas unable to help but think even the air itself had been smothered by Hell.

There was little chatter on the comm channel, even less so on the dropship, but who could blame them? Humans had taken Mother Earth for granted, and seeing it become warped inspired a dread that went beyond fear. It wasn't all doom and gloom, however. Far in the distance, the chains of mountains still stood proud, their sloped surfaces yet unblemished. At one point he'd heard from a scientist that ten percent of the world's landmass had been consumed in hellfire, and at the current rate the world would be swallowed up within a year, maybe two if mankind held on for that long.

The dropships shifted again, flying over the shore as they shed some velocity, and pilot's voice crackling in through the intercom.

"Landing clearance received from control," he said. "ETA ten-"

The ship reeled, Andreas gripping his harness tight as the aircraft rolled, putting him face-down in relation to the Earth. The lights in the bay flickered, turning from white to yellow as they bathed the ship in harsh flashes.

The other marines spat and cursed as they were rocked in their seats, the aircraft correcting after a second, the men looking to Andreas and the cockpit in alarm.

"What the fuck was that?" Andreas demanded, directing his attention to the pilot.

"We've been hit!" the pilot replied, shouting over his blaring instruments. "Engine power's going critical!"

The portholes on the near side had blacked out, a screen of smoke obscuring the view. The pilot suddenly looked up through the canopy, seeing something that Andreas couldn't from this angle. Spitting a string of curses, the pilot gripped the flightstick and turned the nose of the dropship down, and Andreas could have sworn he heard something speed over the ceiling, close enough that he could sense its presence.

As he looked out the far side window, he saw a round shape flit through the air, turning like a gyroscope to reveal a face. A wide mouth with too many teeth stretched in a grim approximation of a smile, a solitary eye jutting over its upper lip. Dangling from its ball-like body were tentacles, or maybe those were limbs, the extremities folding back over its flank as the creature began to come back for another pass, using seemingly no visible form of propulsion.

The ship lurched again, Andreas feeling the craft sink as something landed on top of it, presumably another of the cacodemons. They often moved around in packs ranging from three to ten.

"Where are those damn fighters?" Andreas asked nobody in particular, his toes curling in his boots. He hated not being able to do something, the feeling of being powerless making his skin crawl. He couldn't even fight back, the dropship possessed no armaments of its own save for a thirty-mil on the nose, and aiming at these flying demons would be impossible unless they flew straight in front of them.

He heard something he could only describe as chewing, metal rending somewhere overhead, followed a distinct crunching sound. The commlink was full of panicked calls for a status report, but what could Andreas say that wasn't immediately obvious?

"I'm losing power," the pilot muttered over the channel.. "I can't keep her steady. Brace yourselves marines!"

They were going down, the right half of the dropship listing , the pilot pulling his stick far to the left to compensate. The electronics were still functional, the pilot flipping at the overhead switches, the roar of the thrusters filtering through his helmet. He must be trying to slow them down as much as possible.

"We got parachutes on this thing?" one of the marines asked.

"Wouldn't matter at this height!" another replied. "You'd splat like a damn pancake, assuming those things don't eat you first!"

"I'd take my chances!" the first replied, his voice wavering on the edge of panic. Andreas needed to reassure them, fast.

"Stow it, marines!" Andreas ordered. "You've been in worse situations than this. Our pilot's got us, he's trained for this sort of thing."

He was trying to sound nonchalant, but he was just as terrified as they were. The ship was falling apart, and the incessant chewing of metal was a chilling reminder of what exactly they were up against if they managed to survive a landing.

The rumbling of the ship took on a new octave as the pilot engaged all the thrusters, Andreas fighting the g-forces to peer through the canopy. The nose was aimed square at the shoreline below, the pilot remaining remarkably still in his seat as the ground came rushing up towards the canopy. The chances of living through a hard landing were slim for the marines, but the cockpit would be taking the full brunt of the impact. The pilot was a braver man than most.

"I knew this was a bad idea!" Eva said for the first time in minutes. Although she was made of electronics and code, she seemed as distraught as the marines were.

The world shook as they plummeted to the ground, the dropship bouncing once before ploughing nose-first into the sand. The bay seemed to explode, bits of metal and combat gear flying through the air as the crash dislodged their cargo.

Andreas saw something dark flying towards his face, and then a pain like no other struck him across his visor, and then his world shrivelled into darkness.

-xXx-

Andreas crawled back into consciousness, every muscle in his body burning with pain. He tried to move, but something was pressing into his chest, pinning him in place. His feet were cold, but everything else was burning up. Where was he?

His ears were ringing, but behind the white noise rose the cracking echo of a gunshot, the sound spurring him into blinking his vision clear. Had he been in a warzone? As he took in his surroundings, the memories came flooding back.

The dropship was sitting on a slant, and the deck was obscured behind a murky layer of water, warning lights bathing the crashed ship in yellow instances. The nose of the ship had shattered, the slumped figure of the pilot showered in a squashed box of broken metal and glass. Andreas looked away from the grisly scene, only to look upon another. In the crash couch beside him was a marine with a shard of glass hilted through his helmet, its trajectory suggesting it had come from the porthole opposite them. If that had flown few inches to the right, and Andreas wouldn't have woken up.

Gritting his teeth, he threw the harness off his chest, finding the mechanism had jammed in place. He tried again, the armour on his biceps creaking, and the latches snapped away, Andreas cradling his shoulder in a hand as he reached up with the other to slap his helmet.

"Eva! You still kicking in there?"

"Stop hitting me, and hit the deck, now!"

Without missing a beat, Andreas threw himself to the ground, water splashing against his visor. No sooner had he done that, did a swelling heat pass over his flank, and his seat became torched in flames.

Glancing up, he saw that the ramp to the bay was open, and one of the cacodemons was plugging the exit, the creature framed by a hellish light. Its fat body was too big to squeeze through, but that didn't stop it from ramming against the aircraft like a hound trying to break into a chicken pen.

The demon closed its giant maw as thought it was sucking in a breath, Andreas shooting to his feet. He hauled himself back towards his combusted crash couch, reaching for the footrest. Fortunately, his plasma rifle had remained secured during the impact, Andreas sliding it out of the holster. He brought the bulky weapon to his cheek, lining up the quad-barrels with the demon, its one eye going wide in surprise.

He pulled the trigger, filling the aisle with a short burst of energy cells, the stream of bolts melting into his target's face. The breath broiling in the demon's throat bubbled out as a wet gurgle, licks of flames escaping its chapped lips, its ability to float in the air failing as its face slagged, dropping to the ground with a distinct splashing sound.

Andreas rushed down the bay, the air above the barrel of his rifle shimmering with waste heat. He noted that not all the crash couches were occupied by his fallen comrades. Some of them must have survived the crash, or had been thrown clear…

He swung his rifle round as he emerged into the daylight, finding himself upon a beach, the dropship cratered near the tideline coming up from the right. One of the wings had been severed, jutting from the sand a short distance away, the engine tipping it trailing smoke. Beyond it, the shore gave way to towering rocks, ruined paths trailing up towards the beginnings of an urban sprawl.

The dropship had left a blazing trail in its wake, a trench the length of a basketball court cutting through the sand, the extreme friction forming pockets of glass. There was a figure stood at the end of the trench, it was one of the marines, dumping a cone of buckshot into a nearby cacodemon, priming his pump action in quick succession as the demon slowly sunk to the ground with each echoing blast.

Another of the creatures floated from behind the discarded wing, completely silent as it soared up on the marine's flank, Andreas waving an arm to get his attention.

"Behind you!" he called, the marine glancing over at him before whipping around, but it was too late. The cacodemon opened its mouth wide, and swallowed the man up from above. Its jaws snapped shut over his hips, the creature twisting its head with a wet crunch, the severed legs falling to the sand as the demon gulped audibly.

Andreas dashed out onto the sand, aiming his plasma cannon at the demon. Firing from the hip, he put the demon down with an automatic burst, the demon still munching on the marine even as the plasma bolts melted its hide.

"Three o'clock," Eva chimed.

He heard a high-pitched gurgle, turning up to see yet another demon descending on him from above. It splattered to the ground like a dropped melon after Andreas dumped the rest of his magazine into it.

"Good call, Eva," he muttered, sliding the spent power cell out of the loader, letting it land with a splash of sand.

"Save for thanks for after you deal with them."

It took him a second to see what she meant. Another pair of cacodemons were soaring overhead like birds of prey, gliding across the water towards the beach, solitary eyes fixed upon him. Andreas fished inside his rigging for a fresh cell, slamming it into the receiver, the demons splaying their jaws as they closed in.

As he took a knee, applying pressure on the trigger, there was a sound like that of a distant buzzsaw. Through the swirling mist rising off the sea came an unbroken stream of tracer rounds, catching the demons in its arch. One of the creatures was pasted, the second soon following suit, the creatures turning into a screen of red mist hanging upon the air before disintegrating.

Andreas fought the instinct to duck as the stream arched overhead, the excess rounds chipping away at the cliffs behind him. As the loud burst of gunfire settled, Andreas glanced up to see one of the fighter jets doing a low pass, banking over the length of the beach as it turned about, the scream of its engines muffled by his helmet.

"Better late than never, boys," Andreas said, raising a hand at the craft as it departed, climbing back into the cloud layer.

Andreas did a full spin, making sure the area was clear, finally able to take in his surroundings without monsters to worry about. The crash site was a bloodbath. What few marines that had stumbled out of the dropship had met a bloody end to the cacodemons, but they had given Hell a run for their money. Carpets of dead creatures lined the beach, the green paint of marine armour visible in the pools of nearby viscera.

He called for a sound off on the squad channel, not really sure what he was hoping for but doing it anyway. There was no response. He was all that was left.

"Fuck, if only I'd been faster," Andreas mumbled, closing his eyes and exhaling.

"You were hit in the head by a twelve-pound bar of steel," Eva informed him. "What more could you have done?"

Andreas chewed his lip, supposing there was no time for dwelling. He looked over the wreckage of the dropship, the ruined craft plumed with a thick column of smoke. He had to distance himself from the crash site as soon as possible, there would be more than just cacodemons swarming this place in time…

"Eva, get in contact with the rest of the section," Andreas said as he stumbled back towards the wreckage. "See if anyone else is alive."

While every second spent here brought more risk, he needed all the supplies he could get, Andreas kicking the cacodemon plugging the ramp aside as he returned to the bay. His pack had survived the crash, fortunately, and he clipped the straps to his combat armour, replacing the empty pocket on his chest rig with a fresh plasma cell. He moved over to the other crash couches, looting the gear of his fellow marines for ammo, food, anything useful. It was a morbid task, but dead men didn't need their gear anymore.

"Check the lower compartments," Eva advised. "The cargo should still be intact. This entire beach would be a crater right now if it wasn't."

Andreas knelt in the aisle, pushing his gloved fingers below a latch in the floor, the panel sliding open. Three, footlocker-shaped capsules sat inside the hidden compartment, each one marked with ARC's logo.

The capsules were built from two identical halves, Andreas reaching down to give the nearest one a twist, activating the automatic release. The device parted to reveal a pair of mechanical grippers, and clutched in their metal fingers was a small glass ball. The inside of it was writhed in an unnatural cloak of red mist, the casing occupied by a small shard, the black shape contrasting against the bright flames that seemed to emanate from it.

"I ever tell you these things look like Eyes of Sauron to me?" Andreas muttered as he opened the other two capsules, each one housing a similar sphere to the first, the orbs bathing the dropship in crimson light.

"Many times," Eva replied. "Well?" she added, seeming to notice his hesitation. "Crash or not, the safety of the cargo remains our top priority, Seargent."

"I can't carry three containment units all by myself," he pointed out.

"Then don't, just take the cells. Honestly, what would you do without me?"

"Never touched one with my bare hand before," Andreas admitted, ignoring the comment. "Please don't tell me I'm going to grow a pair of horns or anything."

"Argent energy emits nominal levels of unholy malice, and is barely even warm while inside its containment unit," Eva advised. "It's quite safe to handle."

"'Nominal levels of unholy malice'," Andreas grumbled, lifting the first glass orb, the thing sitting comfortably in his palm. He ran a thumb over the case, his padded glove scraping the glass. As Eva had said, the sphere was paradoxically cool despite what his eyes were seeing, its weight unsubstantial. He stuffed the orb into his pack, then did the same with the other two.

"I know I said it was safe, but try not to fall on them or get shot from now on, Seargent," Eva advised. "The containers are rather brittle, and susceptible to strong impacts. A little like myself, actually."

"Don't get hit while holding the Eyes, I got it," Andreas said, turning back to the ramp. "What's the status on the rest of the section?"

"The other teams encountered no resistance from the demonic," Eva explained. "Their ships are inbound on the Rallypoint. Sending out an SOS now."

"Don't bother," Andreas replied. "A ping will just drag more attention to us, and rescue'll just get brought down anyway. Which way's the Rallypoint?"

"Bearing thirty degrees. Was a two day walk through heavily infested grounds part of the job description as well?"

"It is now," Andreas replied.

"Proceed up those hills to the left," Eva said after a dramatic sigh, always annoyed by his lack of apprehension. "the climb will be easier from there."

Before Andreas departed, he hesitated, turning back for the marines. It was cruel to leave them for the demons, but he had no choice. Still, there was one thing he could do for them at least.

He went back and grabbed each man's dog tags, severing their chains with his serrated knife, including the pilot's. With all seven in hand, he stuffed them inside his already laden pack, then set off towards the cliffs.

-xXx-

Andreas paused to catch his breath, the path wending up the rocks proving far longer than what it had looked like from the shore, memories of boot camp flashing through his mind. When he finally reached the summit, there was a lookout point built into the cliff face, a platform raised on stilts still standing despite it all, Andreas moving over to peer down the sheer drop.

Some fifty meters below was the smouldering crash site, still trailing smoke from its ruined fuselage. Only twenty minutes had passed since he'd left the wreckage, but dozens more of the demonic had already moved in to investigate. He could see more cacodemons, but there were also tiny humanoid figures, resting on their knees as they feasted on the fallen marines, Andreas grimacing at the sight. It was a terrible end for his fellow soldiers, but with no way to extract the bodies, there was nothing he could do about it.

He stepped away from the lookout, surveying the path ahead. To his immediate north, rock and earth gave way to concrete and glass, the beginning of an urban sprawl rising up before him. The coastal apartment complexes would have cost a fortune not long ago, but now they were weathered by war, their cracked facades plagued by corruption, winding tentacles and crimson growths trailing up the walls like vine creepers.

As Andreas moved out onto the gridlocked streets, he saw not everything had been infested by the demons, but what Hell had left untouched had been obliterated, entire housing blocks reduced to a few scant pockets of crumbling walls.

Hellfire provided an unpleasant backdrop to it all, an aura of red with seemingly no source shimmering off the horizon, his eyes watering if he looked up for too long.

"This place was hit hard," Andreas mused as he slid over the hood of a wrecked car. The silence was uneasy and he felt the need to break it.

"Spain got off lightly, as morbid as that may sound," Eva replied. "Recent reports from Berlin and Paris confirm that whole cities have been overrun. Only the ARC camps in the tundras are meeting minimal hostile presence."

Andreas was aware of ARC's evacuation efforts. The Coalition had hastily deployed refugee camps in the freezing landscapes of Greenland and the Earth's poles, the isolated locations giving the surviving civilian populace a place to evacuate. Whether the demons didn't fare so well in the freezing cold, or were unaware of ARC's bases, nobody knew, but humanity had been forced to live within the planet's harshest conditions as a means of survival.

"Does it seem strange to you, that our dropship was the only one to be brought down?" Eva asked him as he crossed an intersection. "Why were we the unlucky ones? And why did the other two meet no resistance?"

"Karma?" Andreas suggested.

"As I told the admiral before, three unarmed ships would make a tempting target to the mortally challenged. I've dedicated a significant portion of my lattice to calculating an explanation, and karma is last on the list of explanations."

"There's no use dwelling," Andreas replied. "We're stranded, and that's that. Hell needs to throw a bit more than some cacodemons to stop us."

"Speaking of which, bioscanner's picking up contacts dead ahead."

As Andreas rounded the next corner, he hunkered, taking cover behind a wrecked truck before peering down the street. His visor tinted to drone out the glare of a fireball, the projectile cast from a humanoid stood upon the hood of a distant car. The imp's bodyplan was familiar, with several ivory spikes protruding from the backs of its skinny shoulders, its hide an oily mixture of purple and orange flesh. A pair of beady, orange eyes were situated above a tight mouth, the lips filled with tiny needle-like teeth.

The imp loosed a snivelling snarl as it cradled another fireball in its palm, tossing it in an overhand throw. Andreas wasn't the target, however. The imp was surrounded on all sides by a group of zombies, filling the air with their mournful wailing as they clawed and groped. They looked like humans whose souls had been sucked right out of them, and that wasn't too far from the truth. Corruption had turned their skin into a sickly brown, the skin between their fingers webbed and wrinkly.

The group of zombies were groping for the imp, bumping incessantly into the car's flanks, their fingers mutated into long claws, the demon conjuring fireballs in retaliation. It scorched one of the undead in the face, the creature moaning as it dropped like a narcoleptic.

Witnessing the infighting of Hell's forces was no surprise to Andreas. Hell's discordant nature went both ways, and it wasn't uncommon to witness entire armies of different demons fighting it out while Earth got caught in the middle.

He watched the imp burn another of the undead, then stepped out from cover, bringing his plasma rifle to bear. The imp was the biggest threat, so he sent a burst of bolts downrange, the demon whipping around in alarm. It wasn't fast enough to dodge out of the way, the creature screeching as the bolts severed its arm at the shoulder, its torso tumbling off the automobile and knocking a few of the closest zombies off kilter.

Andreas checked his flanks, then gripped his rifle by the top railing, carrying it like a suitcase as he walked up to the zombies, the undead turning their glowing eyes on him. Ammo wasn't unlimited, and he knew from experience that zombies were slow-moving things. Hell treated them as little more than expendable chaff, and so would Andreas.

He gripped the sheath holstered on his thigh, sliding a bowie knife out of the leather. When it came to hand-to-hand combat with Hell, bigger was always better.

He stepped in, driving the blade into the chest of the nearest shambling zombie, the creature gurgling as it died. He tore the blade to the left, dark blood geysering out as Andreas turned to the next zombie. There were five of them total, two going left and three on the right, possessing enough intelligence that swarming him from all sides was their best approach. One tried to backhand him, but Andreas ducked beneath the blow, his glove creaking as he swiped his knife across its knees. Its legs were as soft as tissue paper, the blade meeting no resistance in its journey, the zombie crumpling to the floor.

Flecks of blood dripped off his knife as Andreas angled it up, blocking a swipe from a zombie on the right, the rest closing in, clawed arms raised meekly. He was forced to give room, kicking the leg out from underneath one of them as he backed up, using the stock of his rifle like a mallet to drive its skull into the pavement.

The zombies took advantage of his distraction, one of them managing to get an attack in, its nails scratching Andreas along the bicep. His combat armour was made of sterner stuff, and the blow did little more than leave a scratch, and give Andreas a wake up call.

His blade dark with viscera, he caught one of the creatures in a savage swipe, severing its rasping head from its shoulders, morphing the arc into a follow-up attack. The next zombie raised one of its arms to block, but the sharp point sliced clean through, and the creature dropped with a sizeable hole in its nose.

The remaining undead moaned through a teethless mouth, bringing its claws down on him despite all its dead kin surrounding it. Andreas batted the attack aside, bringing his knife in an overhead position and cleaving it across its chest.

The creature fell to its knees, Andreas kicking it square in the face to send it falling back. Checking that the coast was clear, Andreas knelt to wipe his blade clean, his HUD confirming that his armour hadn't been breached and was still pressurised.

"I wouldn't bother if I was you," Eva said, Andreas pausing just as he was about to slot the knife away. "More signatures, dead ahead."

A ping flashed before his eyes, a vector arrow appearing on his HUD. He turned to where it was pointing, seeing dozens more shambling shapes crisscrossing the street before him. Some of them had already taken note of his presence, their wails of alarm drawing more of them from the obscured alleyways.

"We can find a safer passage if we doubled back," Eva continued.

"Already started here, might as well finish the rest off," Andreas replied, holding his bowie knife ready as he moved up the road.

"Don't be so gun-ho," Eva grumbled. "Need I remind you you're carrying three Argent Energy shards? Even a slap from a zombie could cause one to discharge."

"That won't happen."

"It literally just did a moment ago, you bozo."

"You're supposed to be my support, not my critic," Andreas grumbled. "Remind me again why I keep you around?"

If she had eyes, Eva would have glared at him, voicing her sigh as she pinged his HUD again.

"According to my sensors," she said. "there are nineteen contacts within a fifty-meter radius. If you want to continue down this course, I'd start with the group on the left and work clockwise."

"Better," he said, falling into a run. The street was packed with vehicles, perfect to help break up the packs of zombies making a beeline for him. He raised his knife high, sprinting into the nearest zombie, beginning to clear off the horde one at a time.

-xXx-

Andreas struggled over a mound of rubble, his combat armour splattered with gore. The further north he went, the more the destruction intensified, entire streets made impassable by the toppled office blocks.

He'd been forced to journey through the carcasses of collapsed buildings, the way the metal creaked ominously leading him to believe he could be buried alive at any minute, but the worst thing was the demonic corruption. He was seeing less concrete and more crimson flesh, the pink flesh gripping every other wall and ceiling, even the streets had turned to carpets of meat. The way it pulsed as though a giant heartbeat somewhere was fuelling it disturbed him, as did the fact it seemed to wriggle beneath his boots whenever he was forced to trek across a stretch of it.

Zombies plagued the alleys between the pustules, but they were few in number, and seemed shocked to see a human navigating their territory, Andreas dispatching them like it was second nature.

The instances of peace between his encounters with the hordes were short, but not so sweet, as Andreas' surroundings were anything but pleasant. Everywhere he looked he saw some visceral amalgamation of flesh and bone, and it almost made him impatient for the distraction the zombies provided.

It was during one of these quiet interludes that Eva piqued his attention, blinking his HUD to get his attention.

"I'm detecting a large thermal signature, bearing sixty seven degrees," she began. "About a hundred meters out."

"Heavy or super heavy?" Andreas asked, referring to the categories of demons ARC had assigned to Hell's soldiers.

"My sensors can't get a good read at this distance. It's not moving, however, and the heat levels are off the charts, even by Hell standards."

Andreas began to move towards the heading, Eva creating a vector arrow on his HUD for reference. The bearing brought him away from the coast he'd been using as his guide, the ocean obscured behind the rubble and gore, but as long as Eva was around he stood little chance of getting lost.

After a quick jog, he turned round the corner of a building into an alleyway, noting the ground here started to slope upwards, as though some growth deep below was bulging the concrete. The concrete hill obscured what lay beyond, the vector directing him over the hump. Andreas got down onto his belly, and started to crawl up the slope cautiously, the howling wind picking up as he neared the apex.

The hump terminated like a cliff edge, twisted lengths of rebar stretching out of the concrete like fingers, the metal caked with rust. He put a hand on the edge, disturbing a pocket of dust, slowly exposing his head to what lay beyond. He was looking out over a giant crack in the Earth, the blemish sinking a good twenty meters below street level. The lefthand side of the crack had formed right through the middle of some sort of motel, half the building having crashed into the depths while leaving the other intact, plugging the ravine with piles of wood and glass.

The crack stretched on into the next block, bed lined with whole fleets of cars that had happened to be in the way when it had formed. As his eyes scanned over the ravine's further reaches, he noticed a splash of colour, and he used his visor's built-in cameras to zoom in on the object.

Sitting in the ravine's depth was some sort of organism, the top half of it forming a crescent shape, the pointed corners protruding with ivory fangs, forming the illusion of a maw. At its base was a nest of snaking tentacles and tubes that resembled guts, the wriggling appendages snaking into the surrounding rubble. It was grotesque to put it lightly, but that wasn't what had caught Andreas' attention.

Suspended just above the mouth was a portal, the ovular breach in reality cradled in wisps of lightning. It was about the size of a beachball, its dark innards taking on a foggy quality, as though it was trying to screen him from whatever horrors lay within.

"Gore nest," Eva said, watching the feed alongside him. "That explains what's messing with my sensors."

"Don't see any demons," Andreas mused as he looked about.

"They don't guard nests until they need to," Eva replied. "No mortal would be stupid enough to get close to one, no offense to you personally, Seargent. Don't even think about it," she added after a moment. "

"What?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"I've been analysing your behaviour since even before I was plugged into your suit, Seargent. When you put that helmet on, I can see what neurological pathways you're using, and can deduce your thought process from there. Knowing when you're making an unnecessary risk has become second nature to me"

"I think it's fully necessary," Andreas replied. "Besides, I've destroyed gore nests before. Remember Panama?"

"You had a whole platoon to back you up!" Eva shot back. "And even then, there were casualties. This deep into enemy territory, who knows what kinds of things will come through that portal if it's disturbed…"

"You worry too much," Andreas said, shouldering off his pack. "Just relax."

"Relax? Did I give you too much stimulant back at the crash site or something?" she asked. "Just how exactly do you plan on taking down a nest all by yourself? I hope you don't plan on just walking up and punching it."

He reached into his pack, pulling out a parcel the size and shape of a protein bar, a letter and a number stencilled on one of the faces. He held it up to the visor so Eva could see it, the intelligence sighing in exasperation."

"Ah yes, as if the Argent shards weren't enough to warrant caution," she lamented.

"Timed demo charges," he announced proudly. "One of the marines packed enough to level a building. I'll plant some down there, get to MSD, then boom."

"And what about all the demons that'll come crashing down on our heads after the 'boom'?" Eva countered. "We've been going mostly unnoticed so far, I'd prefer it to stay that way."

"We'll be well on our way by the time the dust settles," he assured. "You've seen what happens when a nest goes up, they'll be too flummoxed to organise a search party."

"One explosion won't flummox Hell," she mumbled. "However, considering what demon types we've seen thus far, your plan has some measure of credence, assuming you run like Hell, for lack of a better word."

"We'll be fine," Andreas assured, placing the plastic explosives back in the pouch before setting off down the slope, his feet skidding on the loose rocks. Once the ground levelled out, he took off deeper into the ravine at a brisk pace, his rifle trained on the ravine's upper rim.

He ducked beneath a slanted light post, a tremble in the gore nest portal making him hesitate. He was at his most exposed here on the low ground and a conduit to Hell right in front of him, but he hadn't seen any demons in the area. Hell must be pretty confident to just leave their nests unguarded like this.

"There are other ways to deal with a nest you know," Eva began, Andreas rolling his eyes. "Marking it for naval bombardment or an airstrike would do the trick."

"The jets are still around?" Andreas asked.

"Naturally. They will be bingo fuel in a half hour, but I can request air support at a moment's notice."

"Handy," Andreas mused. "But I don't think a flyboy could land a hit on that," he continued, gesturing at the nest. "It's buried in a trench in the heart of demon airspace. Taking it out needs a little more of a hands-on approach. Now, you gonna stop complaining and keep an eye out for me? My motion trackers are fucked."

"A rip in interdimensional space tends to do that to electronics," Eva replied. "It'll only get worse the closer we get."

By the time the nest was a stone's throw away, even his HUD started to flicker and blur, the hiss of static oozing into the background. Andreas skirted by a car flipped onto its roof, taking care of his footing as he stepped up to the gore nest. It was a lot bigger up close, the cradle as tall as an office cubicle and just as wide, the suspended portal casting parts of the nest into shadow. Andreas grimaced when he picked up a squishy, smacking sound emanating from within the mouth, as though the thing was chewing its many lips in thought. He'd seen nests like this before, but it didn't make being near one any less unpleasant.

He craned his neck, staring into the spherical abyss of the portal. His mind couldn't quite process what he was seeing, like he was looking at an optical illusion, the ball bending the light around itself to make it seem like it was sucking up the surrounding air, a pang of vertigo shooting down his spine as an endless depth conjured in his head.

"There's a time for everything except gawking, Seargent," Eva chided, Andreas snapping himself out of it.

"Right." He kneeled in the roots that sprouted from the nest's base, producing the explosives again. As he set up the trigger to the right frequency, Eva chimed in again, a touch of concern in her otherwise flawless voice.

"Seargent, I'm picking up movement nearby, and I don't think it's interference."

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder, scanning down the length of the ravine. A small landslide disturbed the slope on the right, a few rocks falling into the ditch, but there was nothing when he looked up at the street.

He focused back on his task, setting the plastic block by the foot of the nest. That horrible, squishing sound had taken on a more guttural quality, as though some monster from the dark was starting to growl. Had touching the nest disturbed it somehow? It was hard to tell whether the nest was alive or not.

"They're in the rubble," Eva warned. "Contacts all around us. Seargent…"

"I'm working on it," he grumbled, his heart beating against his chest. He heard another landslide strike the rocks behind him, but he didn't look this time around, every second counted, Andreas placing down a fourth block, then a fifth.

After making doubly sure the remote was all set, he rose to standing, whirling around rifle in hand. Movement near the flipped car caught his attention, Andreas training his sights on the pocket of rubble by the left wheel. The stones rolled and shook, before a giant clawed hand burst up from beneath, sending a puff of dust wisping into the air. The hand was followed by a narrow arm, a calloused shoulder, and then finally a shrivelled head of a zombie. It was like something straight out of a horror flick.

The demon released the beginning of a moan before Andreas put it down with a burst of plasma bolts, the superheated energy turning some of the surrounding detritus into bubbling magma. Eva pinged his attention further up the slope, and he watched as more pockets of rubble started to shake, the growls of dozens more of the undead reaching his helmet's speakers.

"Gawking again, Seargent," Eva warned. Her words spurred him into action, Andreas turning on his heel, rushing passed the undulating gore nest, the portal's surface rippling with rings of energy that made it look like a giant archery target.

Ahead and above him, there was a flash of red light, Andreas ducking just in time to avoid a fireball aimed at his face. Up on the street level, an imp was standing over the lip, its tiny mouth pulled back in a vicious snarl.

Andreas shouldered his rifle, sending a stream of bolts the demon's way, but the creature darted out of sight before his shots connected, reappearing further down the ravine. He was pinned, and the demon knew it.

Another car wreck lay a few meters deeper into the ravine, Andreas ducking behind it as another inferno was sent his way. The zombies were swarming around the gore nest now, yellow eyes gleaming as they chased him down. Andreas knocked four of them down with a sweep of his gun, but the rest simply dragged their mutilated feet over their fallen brethren, closing the distance slowly but surely.

He winced as the automobile rocked, a fireball shattering the window above him. He couldn't afford to get pinned here, or else blowing this entire ravine up, with him in it, would be his last course of action.

He peeked over the hood, searching for a way out of this trap. The far side of the ravine looked shallow enough to climb, he should be able to get back onto the street, assuming that imp didn't burn him to a crisp given the lack of cover.

Taking his chance, Andreas vaulted across the car, spraying his plasma rifle up at the lip, forcing the imp to duck away. He stumbled up the incline, boots crunching on the small rocks.

The rubble transitioned almost ninety degrees as it met the street, Andreas forced to throw his weapon up and then haul himself after. The added weight of his gear and armour slowed his efforts, Andreas aware of every moment he placed his back to that imp and the zombie entourage directly behind him.

Andreas swung his legs up onto solid ground, but too late, a searing pain shooting up his side as something hard slammed him in the ribs. He dove away from the ravine to create distance, which was more like a roll. He recovered his plasma rifle laying nearby, glancing down to see where the fireball had hit, the scorch mark standing out against the ceramic plating on his chest piece. The armour had saved his neck, but it still felt like someone had punched him with a hot iron.

Looking around, Andreas found that he had emerged into a desecrated carpark, one side flanked by a sheer concrete wall, maybe a plaza of some kind. There were abandoned cars everywhere, the lot surrounded by a wire fence save for a pair of boom gates on the far side of the lot.

The hairs on his neck stood on end, Andreas looking back to see the zombies were following in his footsteps, two dozen clawed hands gripping the ravine's edge.

"Seargent, I'm picking up so many contacts that my sensors can't keep count," Eva warned. "That's a lie by the way, there are fifty-two zombies buried down there, and more are moving in. You don't have the ammo for this."

"Not an issue," he replied nonchalantly, holding up the detonator.

"But must have put seven pounds of explosives down there! Are you even at minimum safe distance?"

Andreas replied by squeezing the trigger.

-xXx-

A a wisp of inferno bloomed in her palm ass he flexed her fingers, the flickering light framing her bored features. The fire gave off no heat, her own crimson skin was shielded against her own energies, but that hadn't always been the case.

When she'd been a bumbling newt in the festering quagmires of her youthhood, conjuring fireballs had been a difficult task, her attempt resulting in fresh blisters and sharp, painful instances she'd locked away, the memories only resurfacing when she grew idle, and there was no shortage of that these days.

Her 'weakness' had earned her the ridicule of her 'peers', and it hadn't been long before the names had started. She had been too frail at the time to stand up to her male counterparts, instead reclusing herself to the crags, wallowing in her own misery.

Pathetic.

Her fingers snapped over the flames, choking them out.

That had been over two hundred years ago, basically another lifetime, yet remembering times passed was trivial in current circumstances. Reminiscing was all she could do in this malodorous world. That, and listen to the priest and his endless spiels. She couldn't decide which was more torturous.

"-have more of the Possessed in reserve, in the unlikely event of retaliation. The borders remain secure, although we have detected navel vessels just off the southern coast. They're beyond striking range, but the Baron's on the other side of the Alboran Sea are already making plans to deal with them. As for supplies…"

She tried to drone him out by counting the number of rafters on the ceiling, tapping her claws against the table she lounged behind. They were in the study, the east and west walls lined with stacked bookshelves draped with manuscripts and writings from across the dimensions, including this one. Battleplans were pinned to every surface available including her desk, claimed and unclaimed sections of the city marked in reds and blues, travel routes for heavier forces snaking through the districts. She'd once called this her war room, where she would stage attacks and posit strategies for the conquest, but now it was little more than a study, the priest's voice echoing off the black masonry as he read off his daily report.

"The cacodemon's have also expressed their dissatisfaction with their food allocations," the priest continued, sparing her a sceptical glance. "I reinforced the levels of generosity you've given already, but they were insistent. With the dwindling local fauna they've resorted to… mild levels of cannibalism. This may warrant problems if-"

"Yes yes, increase their meat reserves accordingly, priest," she muttered, waving her hand before returning it to its place beneath her chin.

"An astute choice, my Baroness. Very astute."

Her eyes returned to the rafters, the constructs starting to lose their splendour. They started as columns rising from the floor, then began to sprout into several smaller branches two thirds up their lengths, webbing to the ceiling to create spiralling patterns. She always found the masonry of Hell's architect to be needlessly eloquent, and found her surroundings even more dull as a result.

Something had to change. Anything to get her thoughts directed elsewhere, less they turn to her embarrassing past.

"I demand you tell me something about you, priest," she began suddenly. "I seek a break in these monotonous reports and you will provide it."

He lowered the scroll he was reading from, sparing her a curious glance as he straightened his posture. "M-My Baroness, you honour me, but I am not worth a modicum of your radiant attention."

"I'm not interested in your miserable life, priest," she snapped. "My wish is to discuss something other than this stagnant campaign."

He deflated a little at that, but replied with a deferent nod. "Very well. What would you like to know?"

"You were one of the first humans to enter Hell's service," she stated. "What did you do before that?"

"My mortal life is a distant fragment, Baroness," he replied, glancing off to the side. "When I ascended, large portions of my memory were erased. I can't quite recall who I was, but I think of that as a good thing."

"You are quick to remember every simpering word in your dictionary, but the memory of your whole life escapes you? Try harder."

"I was a… teacher," he said, suddenly regaining his memory. "Grade seven science, if I recall correctly. The students were animals," he scoffed, his lips curling in humour, despite the insult. "Never shut up, never paid attention. I recall this one boy used to make it a habit of locking me out of the classroom, before his expulsion. Sometimes it seemed I cared more about their grades than they did. But that's our duty, to teach the young, prepare them for life whether they want to or not."

"Quite," she said, feigning interest.

"Does my Baroness have schools where you come from?" he asked, trying to maintain the conversation.

"We have a tertiary system, but it is beyond your comprehension," she replied. "And who gave you permission to ask questions?"

"My apologies, I can get carried away sometimes."

She rolled her eyes, sparing the man a slice of pity. He couldn't have had the opportunity to talk about himself very often, but with a breath she'd shut him down. How far did his spineless back bend, she wondered? Perhaps she should put it to the test.

"I was considering joining the imp patrols tonight," she began, shifting topics. "Breath some of that fresh, musty air of your planet. I trust you will run the legions smoothly in my absence?"

"Of course, my Baroness, of course. I would be glad to ease your burden."

"Actually, I changed my mind. The legions need a demonette's touch to keep them in check."

"My sullied hands would have caused turmoil without your presence, Baroness."

"Oh, but you are my most trusted lieutenant, who am I to stop you from doing your job? I could use a good long walk anyway."

"You deserve to burn off some stress, my Baroness. It's a human belief that getting adequate amounts of sunlight is good for the mind."

"Then again, you mortals are new to the legions, some may take advantage. I should stay."

"A wise decision. Solar radiation is considered unhealthy by most doctors."

"But I so wish to see the skies instead of these rafters. Perhaps I will take my leave after all."

"Our doctors are more often wrong than right."

She leaned back in her throne, answering with silence. Why had the Lord seen fit to assign her with a bunch of yes men? Granted, the fear she could smell oozing out of his pores was well-placed, but she longed for the days of the peaks, where action took precedence over council, where she was challenged by friend and foe alike.

Just once she'd like to be questioned, provoked, she' deven take an assassination attempt at this point Anything to activate the neurons in her brain. Lounging in a study, listening to drivel was not a Baron's place.

The Gods of Hell must have been watching her plight, for in the next moment, her throne quivered beneath her as a distant crack rang out, a rumbling noise like that of thunder echoing through the study. She shared a confused glance with the priest, then turned towards the balcony.

"You said nothing about a storm, priest," she muttered.

"No, Baroness, I did not…."

Her hooved feet clicked on the obsidian tiles as she marched across the room, emerging into fresh, ashen air. The unimpeded view of the continent stretched out before her, as boringly dead as the last time she'd gazed over it, save for a single feature. A plume of smoke rose up from the ruins a couple leagues to her north, its source hidden beneath the carpets of rubble.

"Imbecilic imps," she scoffed, turning her nose up at the sight. "Give them a moment of downtime, and they'll obliterate everything they touch. Then again, this downtime has afflicted me in much the same way."

"Your usual agreeability has taken a turn for the worse," the priest agreed, sidling up by her flank. She detected a hint of sarcasm there, but before she could point it out, another commotion filled the stale air, this one mush closer that the last.

She turned her gaze lower. Bundled by the foot of her cathedral was a city of flesh camps and twisting spires of corruption. Infernal machinations transported from Hell itself suffocate the air with fumes, the low din of snarling demons rising above the slamming of hammers and pistons. Imps, cacodemons, and other mentally-impaired fiends brawl in the filthy encampments further out, while her more sensible forces watched and cheered from the sidelines to spectate the bloodsports.

Her sensitive ears picked out something else among the regular tumult. Was that screaming, shouts of alarm? She scanned the inner sanctum that secured the base of her tower, the obsidian foundations protected from the chaos of the camps by a tall black wall, the area filled with her weaker, but no less important acolytes. They were scurrying about like ants, abandoning their summoning circles to flee up the steps of the cathedral.

"Priest, why do your underlings abandon their duties?" she growled, turning her burning eyes on him.

"I-I do not know, my Baroness. If I would humbly request your leave, I can find out for you."

"I have a better idea."

She turned and leaped off the railing without another word, diving into freefall with her long legs flush together, leaving a perplexed priest behind to watch. Her study was around sixty meters above ground level, but she had jumped from greater heights before, the wind screaming in her ears as the ground rushed up to greet her.

She landed in the middle of the sanctum, web-shaped cracks forming beneath her hooves as gravity lowered her to a knee. Her dramatic timing had landed her right before a fleeing acolyte making his way into the cathedral. If she'd been a meter ahead, she would have crushed the human like a bug.

She raised herself to standing, the way she towered over the acolyte sparking terror within his gaze. All around her, similar robed humans stopped in their frantic retreats to stare, pausing in various poses of panic.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" she demanded, directing her question to the one she'd landed in front of. "Who dismissed you from your duties?"

"M-My most esteemed Baroness," the human began, his robe spilling out around him as he sank to his hands and knees, grovelling at her hooves. "My w-words are unworthy of your ear. My Lady is too wise and esteemed and salubrious to be-"

"You're right. They aren't worthy, they're annoying."

She swatted him aside with barely an effort, sending him crashing into a pair of his fellows gathered nearby, the group of them toppling over like pins.

"You there," she said, pointing a giant claw. "The one with a tennis ball for a head. Explain to me what is going on here right this moment."

The one she'd indicated was pushed to the forefront of the crowd, the man bowing his bald head in deference. Like the rest of the acolytes, he was clad in a simple robe hoisted by a leather belt, tanned skin hidden behind an obscene number of tattoos and brands.

"It's one of the nests, mistress," he began. "We were in the midst of a blood sacrifice when its unholy energies were silenced not a few moments ago." The man swallowed, the lump crawling down his scarred neck. "Our projections over that section of the city are met with darkness, we can only assume it's been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" she echoed. The growl in her tone causing the man to bow even lower. "Our nests are far beyond the frontlines, how is that possible? Was it those feral savages from the west?"

"We can't be certain until the patrols report back," the acolyte replied, staring between his feet as though presenting his shaved cranium. "But incursion from the human stronghold is a promising theory."

"I don't want theories, cotton swab, I want answers."

She swept her eyes to that smoke plume as the crowd looked to each other pensively, staring daggers at the roiling smoke. She was not as closely associated with the energies of a gore nest like these worshippers, but the ramifications of losing a gore nest were great, regrowing one took a lot of time and resources. No demon would dare bring a nest to harm whether by accident or not, this had mortal written all over it. If that blast was the Rallypoint's doing, how had they achieved such a thing?

Her musings were interrupted as someone trundled down the cathedral steps behind her, the priest rushing into her view. He was panting like an animal, visibly sweating, but he still managed to give her a patient look as he approached as close as he dared.

"My Baroness, I've just spoken with the other Possessed, it seems-"

"Spare me the details, priest, I already know what's transpired," she said. "What I need to know is how this has happened under your watch? When we planted those nests, was it you or me who raved on about their security?"

"I assure you, most unholiest matron of Hell, that you will have your answers. I've already sent a detachment of imps to-"

"Curse the imps," she snapped. "I will investigate this disruption myself. Open a portal."

"B-Baroness?" he asked, looking at her as though she'd just said mancubus' were the picture of beauty. "Where there's one explosion there may be more, bringing you to the nest would present great risk to your immortality."

"Oh, so now you're opposing me?" she scoffed. "What happened to heeding every beck and call, dog? I'd take a risk to my being over your incessant prattling any day."

The priest sulked, as though this was the first time she'd called him out for his subservience, which it wasn't by far.

"The portal," she said. "Now."

He nodded, moving a short distance away, waving some of the acolytes over. Together they lifted their hands, starting to change a guttural hymn that was a blend of human and Hell tongue, the wordless song bursting at the seams with sin and degeneracy.

She was already walking by the time the crimson portal bloomed in the middle of the sanctum, stretching out higher and wider to accommodate her substantial size. The crowd parted before her, the closest ones tripping over their bare feet to stumble out of her way.

"Back to your tasks, wretches," she snarled. "The rituals must continue. If any one of you even think of fleeing inside again, I will spike your head on my claws."

The warbling portal engulfed her as she stepped into the bubble of energy, a sense of weightlessness engulfing her as she was transported from one spot of reality to another.

As the small delay of transport passed, she considered the priest's warnings. Whoever had taken out the nest – a squad of mortal commandos was her best guess – they must have planned this moment, waiting for her legions to be at their most lax before starting the attack. Humans were frail things, but they could be crafty when the need arose.

She must tread lightly. Whoever had destroyed her nest, they must be a conniving, and very disciplined to have made it so close to her cathedral undetected.

-xXx-

"I think I should have moved a bit further away," Andreas mused, slicing the arm froma zombie groping at his helmet.

"A bit?!" Eva exclaimed. "One block should have been the minimum, but you blasted it while standing right on top of it!"

He'd been thrown clear after his explosives had shaken the literal ground beneath his feet, adding another splitting crack to the ravine scarring the Earth, the parking lot cut in twain. He hadn't had a moment of peace before the hordes had come swarming between the abandoned automobiles, drawn in by by the explosion and the destroyed nest alike.

"Now we have every demon and his mother coming down on our heads," Eva complained, Andreas tyring to drown her out by focusing on kicking the next zombie coming at him. "I've half a mind to call in that airstrike just to spite you."

"I'm handling it," he replied, his tone nonchalant as he fired off a burst of his plasma rifle, mowing down a group of zombies on his flank. He was working his way through the lot one group of undead at a time, using the cars to block off his blind spots and create distance. The hordes were supported by a handful of imps lingernear the edge of the ravine, tossing wild fireballs in his direction, hitting their undead allies more often than not.

Andreas cut down the last pair of zombies in his immediate vicinity, then turned to scale the nearest car, the chassis creaking as he vaulted onto the roof. Like Eva had said, more hordes of the undead were pouring into the lot, using their collective mass to bend the wire fence over in places.

As he wound through the column of vehicles, using their roofs to take potshots at the incoming hordes, a peculiar sensation made tensed all his muscles. A blanket of impending dread draped over his shoulders, the feeling causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. The air temperature plummeted, his instincts warning him he should not turn around, but Andreas never listened to them even at the best of times.

He looked over his shoulder to see a portal forming on the far side of the ravine. Much like the one hovering over the nest, it's shape was of a giant ball, full of darkness that swirled with the occasional red tendril, like a pot of ink that had been spiked with a drop of blood. It was as big as the face of a semi-trailer, and as he peered into that egregious shape, something peered back, a figure emerging from its confines.

Its profile was of a humanoid of massive proportions, around nine feet from head to toe, or horn to hoof in this case, one of the biggest demon's he'd ever seen stepping into reality before his eyes.

A heavy clock of hooves accompanied the demon as it stepped onto the ruined pavement, so heavy he could feel the weight of its steps even from here. The dark hoofs were tipping a pair of jointed legs, calves and thighs as big as his torso covered in a luscious coat of brown fur. Next came the torso, the fur giving way to red skin at the waist, like it was wearing a pair of stockings. A simple leather loincloth looped by a string dangled between its goat-like legs. The stomach was bare, revealing an impressive set of abs, the powerful core complimented by the wide curve of a womanish set of hips.

Her torso – for this was indeed a her – splayed out to the width of a door as it neared the chest, a pair of monumental breasts merging through the portal next. They were as big as his pack and just as voluminous, yet they seemed fitting on such a massive creature, their teardrop shape complimented by their firmness. More pieces of string hung from her muscular shoulders, serving to hold up a colourless sling that wrapped across her shapely bust, the cloth leaving an enticing slice of underboob exposed, the sight distracting Andreas from his fear for one shameless moment.

Last came the face, and to Andreas she looked like a cross between a human and a bull, the comparison furthered by the pair of dark horns protruding from the top of her skull. Two carnivore tusks jutted from her bottom lip, yet her features weren't entirely brutish. A snout like that of a cow's rested above her toothy maw, a silver piercing looping through the nostrils. The shape of her eyes was somewhat familiar, a pair of striking green eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

Andreas shouldered his rifle reflexively, but it seemed the demon hadn't noticed him yet, turning its bright gaze on the nearest imp. She barked out a few words that were lost on the air, the lesser demon shrinking in on itself as she began to verbally abuse the creature. When she at last let up on her rant, the imp mumbled something in answer, raising a claw in Andreas' direction.

This new she-demon seemed unimpressed with the imp's respone, if her seizing it by the head, and tossing him down the deep ravine was any indication of the fact. The imp hollered and screeched as it tumbled down the rocky slope and out of sight, the demoness snorting through her wide nostrils in disgust. She lifted her gaze, a chill running down Andreas' spine as she set her sights on him.

"On second thought," Andreas said. "I'll take that airstrike."

"So there is logical reasoning under that thick skull," Eva muttered, her tone a mix of sarcasm and relief. "Good to see the appearance of a Baron is where you draw the line."

Andreas double-timed his exit from the lot, heading towards the boom gates sectioning off the street. He dispatched another zombie on his way, hearing a wordless shout echo from behind him, its source obvious enough. Andreas had watched video feeds of Barons of Hell, but until today he'd never been so close to one. They were part of the more elite servants of the infernal legions, shocktroopers that could withstand tank shells, and filling a leadership role in Hell's ranks. His stunt had pissed off more of the demonic hierarchy than he first realised.

He cleared the boom gate, panting into his helmet as he dashed up the clogged street. A voice crackled to life in his helmet as he dipped onto the footpath, the calm tone of what must be his air support coming through his helmet speakers.

"This is Shrike two-two, targeting request confirmed. Keep em' painted for me. ETA two mikes, copy?"

"Loud and clear, over," Eva replied. "Seargent," she added. "I can use the sensor suite on your helmet to designate the Baron for the pilot. All you have to do is keep facing it."

Andreas spared another backward glance, seeing the Baron following in his footsteps, barrelling through the boomgate rather than vault over them as he had, hooves clocking on the pavement. She kicked an automobile out of her path like it weighed no more than a plant pot, striding up the street after him with a pace reminiscent of a Sunday's walk. She was like a force of nature, anything that got in her way simply crushed beneath her.

She raised a four fingered hand in his direction, her arms so muscular he could make out veins as big as straws. At her behest, a pack of imps trailing after her charged, swarming by her feet to give chase, her presence rallying the demons.

"Strafe this big bitch, pilot," Andreas said, using his wrist-computer to transmit the Baron's position, rounding the corner of the next building as he did. Several fireballs streaked down the road after him, grazing the tops of cars by scant inches.

"Coordinates received. Target 'big bitch' confirmed," the pilot replied.

"Keep her in your sights as much as you can," Eva advised. "And stay at MSD this time. Not even you could handle the collateral damage from a thirty millimetre."

The alleyways and backstreets here were demon-free, which would make finding an escape route an easy matter, but Andreas wasn't ready to turn tail just yet. When he was a comfortable distance down the road, he turned about, searching for a spot to hole up for a stand. Knocking out a gore nest and a Baron on the same day didn't just happen to everyone, and he'd be doing mother Earth a disservice if he didn't take the chance to give Hell two swift kicks to the pants.

There was an overturned bus just off the side of the road, a sedan crumpled against its hood suggesting there'd been a collision. That would make a good place to overlook the street from higher ground, Andreas scaling the car, then pulling one leg up onto the bus. The metal groaned as he took a knee near the front wheel, reaching for his belt once he double checked he was clear.

There was a scope hooked to his rigging, Andreas flipping it the right way around. He slid it onto the rail of his plasma rifle, then took aim, fixing the glowing reticle on the far side of the street. The corner was blind, and if the Baron and her imps still assumed he was on the run, they'd run right into his kill box.

Soon enough, the imps charged down the intersection, rasping and cackling. Andreas was maybe fifty meters out, but the scope brought him right up to their grimacing faces, and he sent a solitary bolt downrange, hitting the lead imp with a lethal headshot.

The rest of the imps scattered, half a dozen of them taking refuge behind cars or walls, occasionally poking their beady eyes out to search for him. Andreas exhaled as he fired off another shot, hitting an imp as it tried to dash into one of the buildings lining the street, burning a hole clean through its chest.

This time, the plasma stream gave his position away, several of the imps hurling fireballs his way, laying down their version of cover fire. Andreas got down on his belly, taking another potshot, this one missing as it sailed over the head of an advancing demon. These imps were smarter than the zombies, coordinating with each other through wordless hisses and snapping teeth, using the car wrecks for cover.

Flames splashed against the bus as the imps ducked in and out of sight, Andreas rolling out of the way as a fireball blazed through the spot he'd just been lying on. He switched his plasma gun back to automatic, hosing a car wreck down, bright sparks flying from the points of impact. The slagged metal caught on the imp crouched behind it, the creature wailing as it dropped to the pavement with a shard poking from its shoulder, Andreas ending its suffering with a bolt to the head.

He tossed the empty cell to the ground below, catching something red entering his field of view. The Baroness had emerged onto the street, her skin as bright as a chilli pepper, shoving a car out of her way with a snort. A small transparent box appeared on his HUD, fixing itself over her massive profile. That must be Eva's targeting suite linking the Baron's location to the pilot.

The imps took advantage of his reload to sprint full-kilter up the road, the closest of them approaching the bus from the left. He sent it keeling over with a well-timed shot, the plasma melting through its skin, the tough creature trying to get back up despite the chunk in its stomach.

Something heavy landed on the bus, Andreas wheeling round to see an imp had leapt the ten feet like it was nothing. It dashed across the length of the bus, zig-zagging as it went, raising a purple arm to slash at his chest.

Too late to shoot it, Andreas waited for it to get close, then smashed its temple with the butt of his rifle, feeling the heavy impact travel up his arms. The imp backed off in a daze, Andreas putting it down with two bolts to the chest.

He heard talons clicking on metal, turning to see another of the demons climbing into the cabin, lowering to a crouch before pouncing on him. He tried to angle his rifle, but too late, the demon crashing into him and sending the both of them tumbling off the bus. The imp was clinging to his behind like a monkey, forcing Andreas to take the brunt of the fall, his chest slamming into the street and knocking the air out of his lungs.

Andreas blinked his daze clear, swiping at the imp with his elbow, feeling a satisfying crunch as his ceramic plating caught it on the jaw. He rolled against the stunned demon, reversing their positions and pinning the creature to the ground, unsheathing his bowie knife as it struggled against his weight. He plunged his knife into the back of its skull, ceasing its movements.

The remaining imp revealed itself through a shriek, Andreas glancing up to see it charging him down. Its hand broiling with fire, it flung its arm out, a pocket of flame the size of a softball hitting Andreas square in the chest, a flare of panic coursing through him as intense heat splashed his front.

He searched frantically for his rifle, seeing it lying nearby. Andreas lunged for it, but the imp kicked it away, stepping in and decking him across the chin with a spiked fist. His helmet saved him from the brunt of the blow, but his head bounced painfully against it nevertheless.

The creature darted in, seizing Andreas' throat in a grapple, the sergeant feeling the pressure tighten around his neck as the demon slipped its fingers between the joints of his chest plate. He punched the thing in the gut, but the imp's grip only tightened, a smile splitting its razor teeth as it leered at him.

"Seargent," the pilot interjected, his voice paradoxically calm despite the circumstances. "I keep losing your target, I need a steady bead, copy?"

"Sorry, flyboy, I guess I forgot my gyroscope," Andreas snarled, the corners of his vision darkening as he was drained for air. Remembering the knife, he sank the blade into the imp's ribs, giving it a pointed twist. He shoved the gurgling imp away, feeling wonderful air fill his lungs again as its claws retracted.

His knife trailed viscera as the imp pulled itself off his blade, but despite the grievous wound, the imp made to come at him again, but Andreas was ready this time. He ducked beneath a swing of its claws, ramming his knife home in the same spot again. The imp's own momentum forced the blade in deep, the glinting edge poking out of its backside, Andreas grimacing as he felt wet gore on his glove.

The demon crumpled against his front, slowly going limp as it bled out. A guttural cry rang out from the other end of the street, Andreas frowning as he looked over the demon's shoulder, spotting another dozen identical creatures round the intersection.

The Baroness motioned them forward, commanding them to split off into two groups, one hugging the left sidewalk while the other took the right, intending to surround him. The demoness still watched him with that same neutral expression, those bright green eyes never leaving him. She was close enough now that he could see she had eyelashes when she blinked. Weird.

He couldn't keep this up forever, going hand-to-hand with imps would lead to his death eventually, if they didn't burn him alive with fire first. He could retreat up the street, but that would mean taking his targeting suite off the Baron. With her around, these demon's would just keep coming.

He needed to buy time for the pilot, fast.

"Who's flummoxed now, hmm?" Eva chimed in, helpfully. He was about to scold her, but he stopped himself, a wild tactic coming to mind.

He braced the dead imp on an arm, its head lolling, then sheathed his knife. Steeling himself, he plunged his hand into the gut wound, sinking his glove up to the wrist. Squishy, malleable organs brushed the tips of his fingers, Andreas closing his fist around the closest organ.

There was some resistance, but he pulled the wet chunk of meat free, shoving the imp aside as he held out his prize. The mass resting in his palm was something out of a nightmare, encased in pink pipes oozing fluid, the flesh squashing against his palm like a water balloon. He wasn't sure if he was looking at a heart or some other organ, but for drama's sake he hoped it was the former.

"Seargent," Eva said. "what on Earth are you doing?"

He reached up, hitting one of the buttons built into the back of his helmet, his visor flipping up with a click. He cringed as hot air flooded his face, the stench of oil, blood and death mixing into a permeable miasma of horror.

Without warning, he brought the organ to his lips, and took a wet, pointed bite. Slick, unknown juices splashed against his gums, with a consistency not unlike that of humus, Andreas sinking his teeth until they clacked together. With a turn of his neck, he ripped off a chunk of the meat, a stretch of sinew connecting the two pieces before it broke away.

Like gnawing through an overdone steak, he chewed through the meat with pointed stretches of his jaw, shooting the nearest imp an intentionally wild grin, showing off his bloodied molars. The demon paused in its tracks, a flicker of uncertainty passing through it to the rest of its ilk, the pack coming to a halt.

He didn't think that was fear in their glowing eyes, but witnessing a bit of cannibalism had given them pause, even the other group of imps had stopped their advance to gawk in bewilderment. His show was working, all he needed now was a little flare.

"This one got lucky!" he shouted, holding up the imp's heat, which still beat every few seconds. "The next one's going to be alive when it happens. Who's it gonna be?"

He wasn't sure if they understood him, but from the way he spat bits of flesh with every word, and how crazed he must seem to them, conveyed all the meaning for him. One of the imps scampered off, then another, and before long his little charade had cut the demon's numbers in half, the ones choosing to stay much more wary of him now.

"You're clinically insane," Eva muttered into his ear.

Grinning, Andreas turned to the Baron, still stood in the middle of the street. For the first time, she displayed a reaction that was other than vague disinterest, raising one brow ever so slightly above the other. It was subtle, but an expression of confusion crossed her demonic features, and then she opened her mouth to speak.

"A morsel eating a morsel. I have not seen that before," she mused, her green pupils fixing on him. Despite her infernal appearance, her voice was like honey, every syllable enunciated with deep inflections. "Tell me – festering pile of mortal stool that you resemble – who are you~?"

She hummed that last word in sing-song, cocking her head at him. Those green eyes blinked when he spat the imp-flesh in her direction, throwing the heart aside.

"I'm Andreas," he said. "And you are dead."

She narrowed her eyes, but not at him. The screech of a spooling engine had gently risen in volume during their brief exchange, the electric whine becoming a roaring whistle, then a sonic boom.

The demon turned her gaze up and behind her, watching as the profile of a jet soared through the swirling clouds. Its grey hull glinted in the light as it barrelled towards the street, stubby nose aligning with the length of the street.

Andreas threw himself behind the bus, flipping his visor down as the jet swooped in for a low pass. Two cannons mounted to hardpoints on either side of the cockpit began to spool up, a tracer stream of shells chewing into the road right before the Baroness.

The report of the barrage was tuned down by his helmet automatically, but it was no less frightening in its volume, the tracers churning up a pair of cars happening to be in its way, kicking up blankets of dust and rock in its wake. Andreas watched with no small sense of satisfaction as the Baroness was caught in the strafe, raising her massive arms as she darted away, the clouds of shrapnel consuming her.

At the tail-end of the burst, what few imps remained were torn asunder, severed torsos arcing through the air as the ranks were eviscerated.

The pilot came dangerously close to the ground, pulling out of the dive at the last moment, its wings just skimming the tops of the buildings. Andreas ducked instinctively as it screamed overhead, close enough he could see the muzzles of the chain guns were glowing with heat, the craft rising back into the sky, departing as quickly as it had arrived.

"Confirmed hit on target big bitch," the pilot's soothing voice radioed in. "I'm RTB for fuel. Safe travels down there."

"Thank you," Eva said over the channel. "from both of us, right Seargent?"

"Nope."

"Well that's just rude. What do you mean, 'nope'?"

Andreas peeked round the cabin, and gestured with a glove. As the dust settled, the telltale silhouette of the Baron emerged, coughing and sputtering a string of curse words as she wiped the dust from her face. Fist-sized craters pockmarked down the length of her arm and stomach, streams of her blood dripping to the street, but the Baroness seemed more angry than hurt.

"Stupid, impudent little runt," the demon snarled, shaking her head as though the strafe had done little but daze her. "I'll burn you just as I've burned your world! Show yourself!"

Andreas retrieved his rifle, stepping forward to meet the challenge, but Eva chimed in before he could act.

"Seargent, don't," she protested. "You can't fight a Baron and its whole entourage without support. We need to get out of here!"

As much as he wanted to sock it to this Baron, she was right. He couldn't fight forever, and dealing with the imps had taken a toll out of him already. He needed to take advantage of the carnage left by the strafe while it lasted.

Turning on a heel, he dashed up the road, slipping between two cars as he moved for a side street, the brickwork lining promising safety and shelter.

"Run all you want, morsel," the Baroness yelled, her words echoing up the street. "You're in my domain now, you cannot escape!"

He slipped into the shadows of the alley, but her taunts followed him for the next three streets before they finally faded into distance.