Ororo relaxed on a couch, bored out of her mind, in her exclusive area above the masses. She wore nothing but her trademark gold chain wrapped around her waist. The oval emerald coloured diamond glob that hung from the bottom was digging into her upper thigh. Bothering her a lot but she was too lazy and bored to move and fix it.
It was the usual night in Hell. These nightly parties were all the same to her when she stopped needing to scheme her way to the top. The wide open plains and firepits were turned on with thousands of disco balls shooting out lights tuned to pierce through the darkness. The music was thumping so hard several people were struggling to stand, laughing and dancing all the same. As usual, the Devil was at his booth with one of his Advocate’s.
She watched them, her head only having to lift slightly from her position. Remy, the longest running Advocate, caught her eye. He grinned and did a dance as if he was showing off for her. Ororo grinned back and blew a kiss at him.
From the first day she’d come to Hell (Her: surprised, confused, and angry she hadn’t made it to Heaven!!!) Remy was the first person to slouch his way over to her and take her under his wing. She’d been a hardcore street thief ever since her parents died and he’d wanted to see what she was made of. He had been an art thief back on Earth and had heard some rumours of some of the people she’d pickpocketed. Instead of becoming fast lovers like he intended, they’d became fast friends. As he rose into prominence as the Devil’s foremost Advocate, he took her along with him. Mostly because he could trust her to watch his back and sleep in his bed. The fact that the Devil liked her well enough didn’t hurt.
As she watched him, his smile turned into a frown and he was looking towards the glass staircase that led up to her secluded lounge. Several newbies had shipped in today and perhaps someone who didn’t know their place had made it past the guards. Ororo nodded to let Remy know she understood. He turned away from her, focusing back on his job.
Smiling, Ororo was thankful for this poor sap’s mistake. This idiot would give her something to do for once, in a long time. Standing up she walked down the stairs to meet this exceptional fool.

The man was short, hefty with muscle, and hairy. Really hairy. The hair on his head was so wildly curly, dark, and long that his face was obscured.
It’s a long way up the staircase and he moved luxuriously. She narrowed her observations. All she could see was his broad shoulders; he didn’t use the railing as a support, and his movements were so slow they bordered on the methodical. He was definitely new. She hadn’t seen anyone like him before.
Her own movements were called fluid by some, but she felt her heartbeat increasing already, as she stepped forward quickly downwards. The crowd swayed below and for a second, she wondered what it would be like to fall from this height. The second passed and she stopped. The man was right below her, they met directly in the middle with each unable to pass, and she still couldn’t see his eyes or any other part of his face. He too was naked and she smiled.
He must be some sort of gift from the Devil, she thought. He was sweet like that, often complaining she didn’t fuck around enough. He must have decided it was time to be proactive about it. Even Remy encouraged her to let go more often.
It was funny. Hell was the exact opposite of what she had thought it would be. The Devil was a handsome black man with hundreds of Advocates who helped him rule his realm. People on earth were deluding themselves when they believed he controlled their actions, instead the Fates judged a person for their actions and sent them either to Hell or Heaven based on them.
And thank the Goddess she hadn’t ended up there. Angels were like dead zombies, living the same day obliviously over and over again. Forever happy, forever uncomplicated. Ororo was pretty sure they were all asexual, their genitals removed underneath their white robes, as they sang songs and clapped their hands as they introduced themselves for the first time everyday. Remy had dragged her upstairs once to see them, to see how she could have turned out. It creeped her out so much she refused to go back even to make fun of the Angels.

The stranger grabbed her by the waist and held her close. She didn’t look at his face yet, she decided he wasn’t worth it. She could feel him suckling her breasts, and when she wrapped her legs around him he eased himself into her wet hole. Moaning she allowed him to fuck her senseless. She had to grab on to the railing he was riding her so hard. Her diamond slapped comfortably between her ass and his, her gold chain rubbing against her swollen, red clitoris. However when he dared to put his hands in her hair, her weight resting on his hips, she grabbed his hands and electrocuted him. The lightning energy moving between her and him let loose a wave of orgasmic pleasure inside of every nerve in her body. When it was over she could hear herself screaming her moans and the hefty slave boy was gone. Smirking she realized he must have been thrown off the stairs to the undulating throng below.
Slowly she stood, unable to tell if her recovery from her pleasure had lasted minutes or seconds or an hour; her thighs sore and her muscles weak and invigorated at the same time. Looking around, it seemed like no one had noticed one more light show amongst the thousands. She brushed her knees off of ashes.
“You know, there’s something about getting killed twice in one day that really pisses me off,” growled a deep voice behind her. Ororo spun around and his hands were on her neck and pushing her over the opposite railing before she had a chance to respond. She groaned as he exerted pressure. “Especially since I didn’t even deserve it the second time. Well, only sorta.”
“You really think I care?” she asked him, she let a small amount of amusement crawl into her voice. “You’re making a big mistake.”
He was perched on top of the opposite railing, his balance perfectly controlled. He used his other hand to move his hair back revealing deep set smoky grey eyes, a strong nose, and lips that were bitten too often.
“Your friends can’t hear you scream. Thought you might be a little more interesting than threats like that,” he said.
Ororo laughed, “You’re so small, little man. The mistake isn’t in troubling the friend of the Devil. It’s attacking me.”
She wrapped her leg around one arm and pulled down with his weight, pulling him forward; and after punching him in the eye and she flipped him over into the crowd. As he disappeared over the railing she pushed herself off it and ran up the stairs, rubbing her throat. She coughed twice, a bruise developing under the skin, before preparing to launch herself into the air.
Before she could do so she felt two thick arms wrap themselves securely at her waist and shoulder. He must have held on to the railing that time, prepared for her. She smiled and took flight anyway. Mutant powers surviving as strongly as hers had were rare in the transition from Earth to Hell. Most lost them altogether.
She heard his intake of breathe, he was surprised, and she used this opportunity to shove her elbow into his belly and, after struggling to loosen her other arm, into his throat. This time he truly felt the force of her effort and he fell off her. She waved goodbye to him and she frowned when she could see his grinning white teeth in the darkness. She waited until she saw his body slam into the packed dirt before she flew away.

When she touched down on the podium leading up to the booth, Remy was waiting for her.
“What was tha’?” he asked her as she walked smartly away from him. He kept following her.
“Not exactly sure, my friend,” she snapped as she turned around on her heel. He was directly behind her and they were nose to nose. “But I intend to find out.”
“Tread carefully, mon chere,” he warned her.
“Speak softly, my love,” she replied, her standard response.
“And carry a big stick,” they said at the same time. Remy nodded and she walked on, towards the Devil.

He had his headphones on, his hand carefully caressing one ear, as he switched vinyl’s. He appeared not to notice her for several minutes before he turned to her suddenly.
“A Tribe Called Quest or Wu Tang Clan?” he asked her, each in one hand. “Never mind. Neither is really appropriate after Jamiroquoi.”
“You know the ancient Egyptians had a saying: Nemirok avanda sane nipor,” Ororo said, her fingers twirling the chain in a circle.
“Mmm, I’ve heard it before. What does that have to do with my music choice?” the Devil turned to face her, his tone still pleasant. “Or are we discussing my old friend just back from the War front?”
Ororo stopped, even her heart stopped beating for a moment, as she realized this entire conversation was not going to go according to plan. The Devil never discussed his war with God except to speak metaphorically of it, often claiming a role as muse for the character Neo and the entire movie “The Matrix”. The Devil returned to his music before speaking.
“Do you think that area was made for you? Do you think Remy is my real top man? Even he’s not that arrogant. I allowed you to enjoy the pleasures of another man’s ambrosia for a time. And I assure you he’s experienced only the best from that vantage point. I forgot he was scheduled to return today.”
“And he thought I was a treat?” Ororo said when she collected enough breathe and courage to speak. Talk of the War wasn’t forbidden expressively but it might as well be. The Devil liked his children to think positively. The fact that he was discussing it with her could have an innumerable amount of meanings. “You really expect me to believe you forgot?”
“For your first question, you made that clear, don’t you think?” Ororo knew she was expected to blush but she felt no inclination. “And as for the second, do you really think I care? If you don’t stop acting like a child of Earth, you’ll never become a soldier of Hell. That’s why I made sure you came tonight even though you hate these boring parties.”
Ororo walked over to the ledge, staring at the billions carefully, to avoid looking ashamed. It was unwise of her to forget whose realm she was in and he controlled all parties involved- political, physical, the list continued farther then she cared to admit to.
“I’m tired of you wasting your prowess helping Remy advance. This is for two reasons: one, you’re mine not his. And two, frankly I don’t think he’s good enough for you. I have plans for you, my Siva. Until my Advocate recuperates, and quite possibly comes for your head, let us pick some slamming tunes, no?” the Devil never looked her way but she felt the compulsion at work, moving her closer to him until she was standing beside him. He put a hand around her waist. “Don’t pout, it’s sad looking. Now, which song do you like best for the next one?”

Later on, in Hell there is no night or day, she was relaxing in her chambers that were attached to Remy’s room. His purposely heavy footsteps alerted her of his approach and he never knocked.
“So what does he mean by all dat? I’m not worthy to stand by his side? That he wants you instead? Or does he hope to drive a wedge between us for some purpose? Why!” Remy flopped down on her bed, resting his head in her lap. He stared into her eyes with a driven passion, a loyalty and love not bought or sold in any market. “If it’s you Siva, I’m yo’ right hand as you will be his left.”
“I told you only our Majesty may call me Siva. I still don’t know what it means.”
“What was dat Egyptian saying you tol’ him? That’s one of the Ancient languages you’ve picked up, isn’t it?”
“An old thing, yes. I hoped to distract him with it. It didn’t work,” she said. She lied to Remy rarely. And only for his own protection, like now when she suspected he needed it. “Thank you for your trust but no, I’m not meant for Advocacy, I think.”
Remy sat up slightly. “You look as confused as I do. What then? And who was that man? He might as well be a shadow, no one knows his name or where he’s been,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “He compelled me to stop eavesdropping after he told you he forgot he, whoever he is, was coming back.”
Ororo thought for a few minutes before having a brilliant idea. “Forget your contacts in the upper levels. Go further down into Hell, ask the Tortured: the murderers, pedophiles, the saints, and such. Find those he’s brought to Hell. I looked into his eyes, my love. He’s a man who has done more than explore the darkness. He is apart of it.” Ororo kept her thoughts on where and what she was meant for in the Devil’s eyes to herself but she shivered to think of it.
“Maybe he’s a Hound?”
“That was never implied but perhaps his role may include such activities. Like you said, who knows who this man may be?”
“Or when he might come from yo’ head?” Remy asked. Ororo looked at him only slightly amused. Remy had ears and eyes in places even the Devil didn’t want to know about. Mostly all over the plains which was why, on this level at least, the Devil had risen him to such prominence. And he did have such a habit for loyalty. The Devil liked that. “Ro yo’ sleeping in my bed.”
She laughed at him but he continued to insist. Finally she had to push him out physically. It took an hour. Not that time meant much to the dead. Ororo often wondered how it had happened. She, like most, automatically forgot that part. But she knew she’d been young, in body at least, when she met her maker. The rest of her mind and memories were intact despite the one disconcertingly large gap. It was big business in the markets at the edge of the plains, lost memories hunted down by ex-soldiers in the War, an exorbant price for little knowledge. For some reason the Devil let them do this business despite the natural process to forget.
“It most likely gives comfort,” she whispered.
She never heard him come in but instead felt the metal claws at her throat.
“Maybe you did tonight but three times, one day…enough’s enough, lady,” he said as he pushed her away from him. “Nice digs. How about we call a truce while you pack up your shit?”
“What are you talking about?” she snarled at him. She couldn’t stop her hands from going to her neck, touching the sensitive skin, the bruise was starting to color, where she’d almost met her second death. Who knew where she’d go then? The man, he was shaped like a hulking beast that was svelte enough to be fast and big enough to be dangerous, licked his lips.
“Sexy but not the time,” he said as she moved away from him warily. He tossed her a document. “Order of our majesty: suit up. You’re his soldier now. No more playing with dolls.”
She didn’t bother to doubt him. Instead she pulled out a small backpack. The Devil had pretty much dropped a thousand hints that this was coming. He nodded approvingly.
“Damn, I just lost a twenty dollar bet that said you’d try to stall for your friend.”
Ororo wrinkled her nose, imagining him digging through her things and discussing them with some mysterious partner.
“By the way, if you coulda, ya shoulda told your boyfriend not to bother. He’ll never find so much as my name.”
Ororo didn’t bother to respond to him. But she hoped Remy never would find his name. This man was built of dangerous, corrosive things. What he touched, burned and died and stayed dead. If he wanted to remain unfound, he’d do unspeakable things to keep it that way. What was worse was she knew, everyone knew, Remy would never stop looking.

Where were they going?

Ororo sighed because she had no idea. Aggravation wrinkles were beginning to form permanent homes on her forehead and underneath her eyes. Again she looked at him, the focus of her energy, with her eyes full of emotions:

Annoyance.
Belligerence.
Curiosity.

And…as usual the figure walking just ahead of her ignored her existence completely. Ever since they left the Devil’s tower he remained unspoken as he led her out of her window, first unwinding a ladder from his pack for her, then winding through the city that could transform at their single leader’s whim. She’d been surprised at his ability to constantly find every pocket of deserted space in their insulated world, a rare feat, as they moved forward. Without night or day people didn’t regulate their behaviour according to context but roved as they pleased. She couldn’t decipher what possible destination he had in mind but Ororo remained calm.

Pouting she stared at the rolling broad shoulders she had once had her hands wrapped around. Her throat closed at the thought of being sexually attracted to that monster. Shaking her head, she tried not to think about regretting sex which was pointless.
What she did worry about was Remy looking in, checking up on her, and discovering her gone without a word. She worried about what he’d do about this when he realized anything could have happened to her. He wasn’t the type to believe blissfully that she was alright without speaking to her directly.
It wasn’t enough for him for her to be safe and it wouldn’t be enough for her if the positions were reversed. He would want her to be happy. She wouldn’t dare contradict the Devil’s orders by trying to leave a trail. Now she was a soldier of hell. It didn’t matter if she, or anyone else for that matter, was happy.
Ororo took a deep breathe. What could this soldier business mean exactly? There were enough rumors as there was so she had no way of expecting anything.

Eventually they reached the plains: a wide expanse of unlived area. There was nothing wrong with the plains, they were just the non inhabited spaces that surrounded the city, which then circled the shaft of the tower where the Devil resided, a phallic image at best.

She could hear the sounds of another party beginning. Ororo looked over her shoulder.
“Hey,” Logan was sitting on the ground. “We better cover some ground rules. One, no looking back, that’s fuckin’ over.”
“One try not to speak, you’re sexier that way,” Ororo shot back. “It must be hard to know you’re only wanted for one thing.”
Logan laughed, “Yeah its really a killah on my love life.”
Ororo looked away for a second before taking a seat on the ground as well. She didn’t want to know why the Devil had chosen this fool as her leader but she was aware that she should try to follow his orders. If they were reasonable.
“Yeah, you jus’ keep killing me over and over again with your amazing humor. Now rule two, is yo’ better not fuck anybody else while yo’ around me. Ain’t yo’ boyfriend,” Logan said as he shifted his hair back. “But ah don’t want to smell another asshole’s cum all over what I’ve marked.”

For the first time in hours, Ororo could see his eyes. They haunted everything they laid down on and they laid expressively down over her. She felt herself being examined, his eyes slithering up her feet, coiling over her thighs, peeling back the curls between her sweaty legs, her tight hips, and high breasts.
She flipped her mane over her shoulder as she waited for him to finish. She didn’t bother to show any interest in him. She wasn’t going to appreciate the perfect specimen that was taking her farther from the life she had grown comfortable with.

“Don’t worry. I only fucked other people beside my boyfriend, as you call him, while he watches,” Ororo smirked. If he wanted to be possessive, she’d encourage it. After all she needed something to torture him about for now.
Logan smiled to reveal sharp canines that gleamed in the darkness. Faintly the sparkle and glitter off the party strobes and discoballs flashed by as the music and the vibrations came in full swing. When he moved forward it seemed like a delicate ballet impersonating a crawl and he was fast, faster than she would have liked as he pinned her down with his elbow.
She grunted as she struggled. She could feel the entire length of his penis against the crest of her parted thighs, the heavy weight of his body pressing down on her. Crushing her bones, grinding away her strength.
Chuckling she asked him what he wanted.

He began to lick her bruises, kissing them, loving his own marks of destruction on her skin. She moaned as she bumped her hips against him. At first she grinded against him gently and he growled against her in pleasure. His entire throat was exposed as he reeled upwards to howl as her gentle proddings became hard thrusts against his erection.
“You like it when it hurts don’t you?” she whispered to him, her upper body throbbing in more pain as he slipped forward. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding back some of his weight as he rubbed against her clit, he was unable to think, and the dead weight was excruciating as the sinews of his body melded themselves to her curves. She could barely breathe, he was choking her, and she was still unable to scream. She decided it was time to begin his torture or she’d die.
Again.

By relaxing his hold on her, she grimaced, she was now able to launch her head forward and grab hold onto to his throat with her teeth. She held on until it bled, and the noises he was making were in between struggle and some sort of pleasure, finally he knocked her back unable to take it. She kicked him in the face as he tried desperately to move back from her attack but she knew she had him on the run. Ororo had no intention of letting him go.
“You don’t make the rules,” she lashed out a bolt of lightning playing between her fingers, thunder rolled and rumbled, and carefully thought of where to apply it. Unconsciously she saw his arm twitch as if he meant to protect himself from her wrath. Relenting she only played with the deadly fire instead of physically torturing him. She spoke curtly and he listened.
“You don’t lay down the law for me. I’m a soldier of Hell, not your bitch. We’re all marked in some ways, that doesn’t take a genius to do. Are we understood?”
He rolled over laughing, laying on his back. “Yeah, I gotchu.”
Five minutes later, he stood and she could see the marks were gone- leaving only the blood of a momentary victory behind.
Ororo sighed and just concentrated on breathing. Both her back and front shoulders were bruised until she couldn’t move her neck and her throat felt as if someone had been twisting a bendy straw in circles. Not to mention her legs were softened by luxury and her feet hurt from the distance. After a few miles, she was telling herself not to give in to him, not to fall over from the exhaustion and pain. At one point she paused for a second, staring at the ground and catching her breathe, hand on her hip. Only pride kept her from dragging in the dusty ground the once light now excruciatingly heavy pack on her back.

When Logan backed into her with his ass she looked up at him annoyed.
“What?”
“I wanna give ya a piggy back, come on.”
She scoffed, “Like hell.”
“And I want your pussy on my back,” Logan snorted as he revealed a benefit of the skin to skin contact. “Let’s go we don’t have much time before our meeting.”
Ororo stood staring at him, “But yet you always manage to have time to try having sex with me.”
Logan shook his head and wrapped her arms over his shoulders, sweeping her legs up to rest on his hips. She was too tired to make a complete effort to stop him.
“Nope don’t try, already did that. Besides a man’s gotta have some priorities.”

They travelled for several more miles. Shockingly they never went far enough to stop the trembles of the Devil’s sound system still reaching up the soles of Logan’s feet.
At first Ororo remained stiff on his back in silent protest but eventually she realized he didn’t care what she did as long she didn’t slow him down.
She laid her head down on his shoulders and he slowed down slightly when she did this before continuing his regular pace.
Screw him, she thought, if he didn’t like it he could put her down.

They arrived at the market gates that were guarded by a few prostitutes and a wandering man with a permanently frightened expression who meandered about aimlessly. Logan put Ororo down and touched the bruises on her shoulder. She hissed despite the fact that he barely grazed her skin.
“I’d prefer you to take my head off in one clean swoop then this slow battering,” Ororo muttered. “It’s slightly more honourable.”
Logan chuckled in his throat with his hands on her arms as if to keep her steady. He held on to her, massaging her with his fingers. Through the thick tangle of hair she could see the strong nose, the sensitive sharply defined lips, the gruff shadow of a beard.
“Yeah well-” He was about to say something when he was interrupted by one of the prostitutes asking him if he was in for a change in bed. She grinned with delight as she placed her body on display.
Logan growled and extended his claws, which hadn’t made an appearance for so long Ororo thought she might have imagined it, and sliced off her head. He never wavered in his eye contact with Ororo. She could tell he was looking for a reaction, anything.
For a second, nothing changed. Then Ororo heard the slut’s head slid off and roll away in the dust and rest a few feet from one of her companions. The women silently retreated to the shadows; the man ambled away feebly talking to himself.
Ororo frowned. Something was wrong with these people even more than the Heaven zombies. They knew, had seen, too much; it was in their eyes. It was the same thing Ororo saw when she looked into Logan’s eyes.

Seconds later they were pushing their way through the crowded market. Hundreds of open stalls, strangely bright places that resembled miniature suns in jars, floating above them were tiny strings of flags that marked borders, surrounded the pair the moment they crossed the gate’s threshold. Voices crowed as they hawked their wares, even more voices negotiated prices and deals.
Logan firmly held onto Ororo’s arm despite her trying to get him to let go. She was capable of following a mouse in the dark, a skill which had served her well beside Remy. Now she wasn’t trusted to move a few feet behind a man large enough to roughly knock several out of his way as he simply walked, not being an asshole on purpose, it wasn’t on purpose.

When they reached a shack town he drew her even closer. The crowd thinned but only slightly to make room for Logan as they were able. Reaching a single shack they stood before, the only one of its kind with its even more dishevelled construction, Logan released her violently towards the entrance. Slowly she moved forward, letting her curves and hips roll slightly as she moved aggressively. Every graceful step was a hint of a trained warrior.

They had arrived.

Who knew what awaited her in these depths?

Inside she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the faint light from the candle. No not a candle but some sort of mechanical device that flickered, barely able to reveal the old man’s face. The old man’s craggily face was dark skinned, Ororo guessed Native American, and loomed out of the complete darkness with a sardonic expression.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice was smoother than his body as he rose. Ororo fought the urge to step back. She knew suddenly what he must be: a former soldier in the war. His back was hunched and his skin charred and deeply cratered. He had a missing eye that was roughly scarred over with a flap of light pink skin, one good hand while the other a shrivelled stump that rested in the conclave ribs of his chest. In his working hand, he held a rolled and wax sealed scroll. The scroll was weather beaten, terribly aged, and roughly edged.

Ororo decided to listen to advice she’d given to Remy time and time again: tread carefully, speak softly. She waited.

“I’m, I’m, I’m Forge. Wanted to talk to you for a long time,” he licked his lips noisily and chomped his teeth when he shook his head. “You need this. I, you, I’ll give it to you. When you, you give me my price. You weren’t easy to find.”
Ororo felt her lip lift in disgust. But remained silent. The intakes of breathing, the rising and falling of chests in the stifling still heat of the shack. Except for the device, the darkness.
“My reward, they, they, they told me to find your memories. I found them in the bowels of hell. I, I, I thought you were, I didn’t know you were so dangerous to know,” Forge stuttered over his words as he slowly moved forward. Forge finally stood before her; his erection slapping against his hip for every step he took forward into the darkness toward her. “Burrrrriiiiieeedddd deeeeeepppppp.”

Ororo heard and smelt his heavy breathing. His shrivelled stump knocked at her limp, malleable hand and Ororo couldn’t help her disgust, her skin revolted as he put her memory scroll in her hand. Gulping, she broke the seal and felt a wash of sight and sound. The gap inside her mind was filled but her stomach dropped out from underneath her.

She realized now that her actions, the machinations of Remy’s, mattered little as the Devil had complete control over them. He placed them as he chose, waiting until they developed the skills he needed them to so he could use them to his best effort. The ancient scrolls dropped from her fingers. She saw now how there was no time, no here or then, outside the realm of Earth. On earth, she’d limited herself by being unaware of how much was outside her control, which was why she had had to die.
“Do you see now how you died?” the old man said. Ororo’s bottom lip trembled as she crumbled to the ground, her hands planted in front of her in dejection, and Forge wrapped his one hand in her long wave of hair.
She wanted desperately to reject this piece of paper’s revelation. But from within the recesses of her mind she felt the essence of the truth.

He raised her head and brought her closer to his throbbing penis, pre cum gleaming at the tip.
“Ugh,” she groaned from the pain of it. She didn’t want it, she wished she didn’t know. The world went black as she faced a flashback of memories, moments from her arrival into hell.

Laying on the ground she’d been so scared and angry when she opened her eyes, intensely aware of the fact that she was dead, but surprised there was no bright white light.

Where am I, she tried to yell. Where is my light? It was dark to her; the world had a reddish hue from the dust. A crowd surrounded her, hundreds of men and women and things she couldn’t name crawling towards her dripping in sweat and paint.
She hadn’t known this then but another party had just winded down to its satisfying conclusion and this was what they called the “prowl”. Men and women searching for someone, anyone, to engage with. Sex becomes meaningless to the heathens of hell when there could never be any result either negative or positive. It’s just a way of getting rid of a lot of excess energy that was driving them insane.
She was screaming but went unheard as the crowd grew; accruing thousands attracted to her fear and exquisite beauty- her innocence was palpable in the air. They were hunting for just her type, fresh meat for skewering, and she was a prized possession the frenzied harem of legs, teeth, and conquerors were searching for to rip apart.

Ororo was not the type to cower and run. Innately she reached into herself from her core and pulled out a ball of lightning. At first the rioters on the prowl were too shaken with their own thirst and howls to notice the spot of light in the center of the smoky darkness surrounding the girl she had been as they rose up as a single mob.
If she had known Remy was even then watching over her, as he would eventually admit to, she wondered if she would still feel as scared as she did then.
All she had in her hand to defend herself with was a tiny ball of her own power, courage, and strength. She could have flown away, she could have blown these madmen away, she could have washed them away but she didn’t chose to do this when she looked inside herself.

She chose to FIGHT.

That night she grew her impertinent ball into a seismic sized ocean wave that electrocuted those closest to her into ashes and those further scurried away as best they could. Falling down after this major execution of her mutant powers, Ororo’s chest heaved with satisfaction and effort.
Moments later, she heard Remy, she didn’t know his name then, approaching her. The first thing she noticed about him was he had great pants while she and most everyone else she had seen were naked. Really great pants.

Remy’s smooth flirtation was so sexy she couldn’t but be completely attracted to him. He made her laugh but more than that he made her want to give herself to him body and soul immediately without his ever touching her. Which he never did.
They couldn’t communicate like other couples in Hell. On arrival in hell, you always notice you’ve lost your one downfall: the element in yourself which brought you to Hell instead of the oblivion of Heaven. For most mutants, it was their powers.
For Ororo, it had been her voice.
Despite her initial spirit, she had been devastated by this loss. She didn’t have definitive memories but she knew somehow she had enjoyed the sound of it; it had been influential over others. At this point, Remy became her rock and her soldier as he showed her that the world wasn’t over.
Then he showed her the one reason for why Remy wasn’t apart of the prowl, his mutant powers still intact: he had lost his genitals even his nipples.
This trust of a secret had solidified a friendship from a sexual tension that threatened to break them apart. She’d eventually regained her speaking voice but trying to sing left her in cold sweats. Remy had hoped that one day he too would regain what he’d lost, this hope was embodied in her. Losing that wasn’t something he’d do easily.

Blinking, once more she woke up from a dark world to something far, far worse. The old man cackled as she pushed him away, his feeble body stumbling against the rickety table. Ororo looked up, tears drying in her eyes before they had a chance to pour.

Cocking her head, she listened to this crone laughing at her.

How dare he?

Drawing on her power she stood and lassoed him to her. She could smell the burning of the flesh, her morality had long ago been shed for more useful attributes, hear the screams of pain with a faint tinge still of derision as his body was dragged forward. Slowly the barbwire trails of lightning consumed him.
She heard Logan’s distinct footsteps come closer. She swallowed and looked at him. He nodded, understanding she didn’t care about what she’d done as long as she felt better.
“Shouldn’t be so harsh on him though,” Logan hooked his hands in his hips, his shoulders hunched over, as he stared at the black smear and pile already shifting in the breeze. “He’s our future.”
He looked up as there should be no ‘breeze’ in this place. Even better he smelled someone he knew he didn’t need to engage with right now was approaching. He’d take care of this sometime later but not with Ororo here in this state, not now at least. Grabbing Ororo’s hand he tugged. She faltered for a second before standing. He held her with one arm as he cut a swatch out of the back of the shack which faced a maze of similar shacks. Sweeping Ororo up into his arms they made their escape through the impromptu door.

Time to go.

He’d live now, fight again later he told himself as they disappeared into the labyrinth of the disease ridden and the guiltily haunted.

Ororo felt better after her rest. She thought it would be hard to fall asleep surrounded by creepy preaching saints but the Soldier unnerved them so they stayed away. Her last thought before falling into oblivion was she still didn’t know his name and that didn’t worry her because she didn’t want to care.

Logan watched her sleep for awhile before attending to his business. Leaving her with the saints was best because they couldn’t help squawking whenever someone approached which would alert his little warrior fast enough to defend herself. And she was a little warrior: beautiful but deadly. She took him on, both sexually and physically, with no hesitation. But it was best not to think about her too much he told himself.

Before they could get any further he needed to take care of one small burr in their ass.
Remy.
Logan slowly winded around the man. Climbing up a caravan, he perched from the top and eyeing the scene below. Lowering his eyelids, he squinted in annoyance. He couldn’t be positive but he sensed the other man knew he wasn’t alone. Remy stalked this way and that, graceful among the market crowd compared to Logan who simply barrelled through. The market had a way of knowing when to scatter and when to collate and right now the air smelled bad. Expensive wares were being packed away discreetly and the cheaper stuff, both lives and objects, remained blissfully unaware until the last second.

Remy spun around fast enough to stop the large beast of a man from completely squashing him. He’d glanced at the merchants, who saw the danger that remained hidden from him, and tried to gauge how to best defend himself. He knew anyone capable of surviving Ororo’s attack from earlier would consider him small fry. He was determined to prove them wrong.
Hundreds of people magically disappeared in half a second and the pair crashed noisily into a lone wooden table. The rickety material snapped under their weight and, in the confusion, Remy managed to kick flip Logan from over him.
“Where’s Ororo?” Remy shouted, hoping against hope that she could hear him. Even if she wasn’t free to come directly to him, she must know he was coming. “If yo’ harmed her-”
“Don’t ya mean my Siva?” Logan taunted.
He dodged a kick and received a knee in the face for his efforts. He started to wonder if Remy and Ororo didn’t train against one another. They both had similar styles: violent, fast, and meant to incapacitate their opponent as quickly as possible. Strategic but he didn’t go down easy. Logan growled and unsheathed his claws. Remy’s eyes betrayed no emotions except determinacy. Quickly Remy laid a series of punches down on the sturdy man. Logan drew in to his body, huddling and waiting.
When Remy took a break to shake out his bruised knuckles Logan took his opportunity. Grabbing Remy by his hair, the same hair he had heard Ororo rustling her fingers through, and buried his claws into the man’s side.
His mouth open, grimacing, Remy held on to Logan’s fist. The second he let go he would truly be dead. Again. For now he was in a middle place that was mostly encompassed by pain. One other thought ran through his mind.
“Tell her, tell her Ah loved her,” Remy whispered. He lost the ability to recognize who he was talking to. Logan waited for his opponent to die. No need to rush.
“Ororo Ah sorry Ah couldn’t love yo’ de way yo’ deserve. I love yo’ goddess, my siva,” Remy reached out to touch what he thought was Ororo’s face. “S’alright Ah for-”

Remy meant to tell her he didn’t regret much but he regretted everyday he wasn’t making love to her. He meant to tell her he knew about her real past, past the lies she’d fed him. He meant to say he knew how she felt about him. He meant to tell her not to cry. He meant to tell her he forgiven her for everything she’d done in her past. He’d forgiven her the sins she had trespassed against him. And he wished the courage to be forgiven.

Logan shook the blood off his claws. Remy was a crumpled, twisted mess at his feet. Stepping over his body Logan knew he couldn’t ever tell Ororo about this or she would finally let him know what it felt like to really die. Permanently. Behind him he could hear the market place resuming. The tiny fingers of thieves searching the body for valuables; the strongest dragging away the corpse like a victory charm.

When the Soldier appeared, the saints quieting down, she didn’t look up. For the moment her mind was consumed by thoughts of Remy. He would be concerned for her. She hoped he listened to his own advice and tried first for diplomacy with their lord the Devil. Of course he might lose his shit completely and cut a bloody swath to find her. She hoped he didn’t. Since they met she had always felt as if perhaps they had known each other while alive and had been drawn to one another for that reason. Why else their attraction?
Logan sat beside her but still she paid no mind. He touched her thigh, letting his hand to start at the hip and glide down to the knee, but she jerked away in annoyance. Logan grunted and stood.
“Lessgo,” he muttered.

Absently Ororo stood and stretched. Yes, she did feel better but still she was sporting a few ugly bruises from her encounters with the hulk walking in front of her. Roughly he grabbed at her hand but she managed to snatch her hand away. Warily, finally looking at him, she trailed behind him. The lower they travelled into hell, the more the crowd thinned until they were alone. And still they travelled onwards. Behind them the world they left continued as if nothing had happened.

----

The Devil rested in a room in his tower. Most of the room was dusty with ill use. The chair was uncomfortable but he chose it because the war he fought in it was uncomfortable. He chose not to forget this. It felt like only seconds ago he and the Lord had been sipping from the ambrosia of endless time and resting their consciousnesses in the narrow confines of infinite space. Then they were drawing up the rules to the game of their war. Boredom, the boredom of children, had incited the idea. And now they were here. Sighing he addressed the knock at his door but not before resuming his comfortable corporal form.

His latest Advocate, an old friend, stood in the doorway. He was a tall man, whole and strong, with truthful eyes and an inquisitive mind. He bowed, a habit the Devil had done away with in the last century, before entering.
“You’re late.” The devil chuckled, “You know I got bored of that a little while ago. A couple of minutes I think you’d count it as.”
The Advocate bowed his head. Though he said nothing, the Devil knew that the man knew his lord knew the exact weight of time on humans. The Devil straightened up, even straightening his tie, before continuing.
“Well, let’s get another one over with then, shall we?” he picked up a folder on the desk. It sat atop several layers of messy maps and brief scribbles that he’d like to consider strategy. He tried not to sigh. He felt it was time to end things. The Lord was still enjoying this whole war scene but frankly, the Devil was pretty bored. If they settled things once and for all he could clear up a few misconceptions and get on with his life.
His Advocate nodded.
“I just want to start you off slow. I know this must be a headfuck,” the Devil said. Finally he’d gotten a chuckle out of a beloved old friend.
A woosh of light and a flash later a body was unceremoniously dropped to the Devil’s war room floor. At first the body remained crumpled and the Devil wondered if someone should help the elderly figure to his feet. Instead, slowly, the figure swayed to its feet on its own steam.

The black man clutched his white robes to his chest.
“I reject you in the name of the Lord, our Jesus!” he cried, wringing his hands nervously. Moments before he was introducing himself to a surely sweet old lady who had finished singing in the choir.
The devil smiled genially and spread his hands wide. “As you can see this is my dominion. Now according to my records, you are the lucky award winner of Sainthood according to the, hmm, Catholic faith. Haha, they do tend to be regular and of late have been getting really progressive. As a result this has disqualified you to live in heaven and well, you’re now mine. My advocate here, you may address him as Advocate Forge, will now brand your ass and then escort you to the lower hells. Thank you for this audience.”
Forge grinned, bearing the strong marks of his Native American heritage, before speaking to his lord. “Should his lordship thank a lowly saint?”
“Welllll,” the Devil said with a joyous sarcasm. “I have to say something to make him feel better about himself. After all, he is going to miss the party.”

----

“Fine. Go fuck a donkey for all ah care.”
“Hn?” Ororo wrinkled her nose. “You do kind of look like a donkey.”
“Baby, be nice,” Logan chastised.
For the first time in hours, what humans on Earth called days, he’d decided to speak to the raincloud girl. Tightening his bottom lip he asked if she wanted to rest. Their journey was long, longer than she could ever expect, and he felt it was best not to let her beat herself up trying to keep up with him. When he spoke to her she had the audacity not to hear him. By talking to her he was extending the hand of mercy as he saw it. By not hearing him the first time, she was rejecting it. And yet, he wanted to just let go and make like nothing was wrong at the same time.

Ororo saw none of this inner battle. She had heard him but the fact that he was speaking to her was weird and at first she hadn’t known how to react. The first words out of her mouth, caught off guard, was, “Huh? What did you say?”. But it seemed to work out for the best as the Soldier was in a good mood.
She rested on her haunches and absently picked up a few pebbles. Jiggling them in her hand she tossed them at the wall across from them. It was happening incrementally but the walls were narrowing. For some reason this left her jaw clenching and unclenching. Maybe, she figured, she was just holding in too much pent up stress.
Logan laid out beside her, his ever present erection on display. He stretched his arms out behind him. Seconds later he was blissfully asleep. Even as Ororo trailed her fingers along his thigh, Logan snored on. His sounds vibrated against the halls before they came soundly echoing back.
A nerve in Ororo’s forehead twitched and she delicately threw her leg over his hips. Waiting a few minutes for a reaction to this gave her nothing. The rhythm of his snores didn’t change, his breath didn’t catch; Ororo was a little annoyed. She had to get rid of this negative energy somehow.

Lost in her head, her knees dug into the ground beside Logan’s ribs, Logan snatched him to her. His arms securely wrapped around her back Logan moaned into Ororo’s ears. She struggled, defiantly for a minute, before she gave it up. The position was undignified at best and at worst was impossible to get out of.
“Mmm, yeah, baby like that,” Logan purred, his eyes still closed.
Ororo said nothing. He didn’t deserve her to say anything, she fumed. Taking a deep breathe, she assessed the situation. The best course was to wait for him to relax and wait for a moment to free herself. To get him to trust her she relaxed her own body, folding her arms into her chest.

What she didn’t realize was being this close to her, flesh to flesh; Logan could sense her blood coursing through her muscles. He felt the faint tension waiting to spring into action. About a half an hour later Ororo was fast asleep, faintly drooling on his chest, exhausted from their approximately endless three day march. Biting his lip Logan changed the position of his arms, tense and waiting for the girl to spring up with a “HA!”.
He kept one arm wrapped around her shoulders, firmly supporting her weight, and tangled his left hand in the mass of white silk he’d been itching to touch since they met. He threw his left leg over hers and drew her even closer than before. For the first time in about a week, his uncomfortably hard erection went down. Then he went to sleep with the smell of blood leaving faint traces in Ororo’s hair and on her skin.

When Ororo woke up she had her arm around Logan’s neck, drawing him to her chest, and his body resting in between her legs. His arms were wrapped underneath her, clinging to the tangle of hair and her waist. She took a deep breathe and waited for this nightmare to end. Logan rose on his elbows, her arm fell away from him, and his thick hair unable to block the intensity of his stare.
Ororo licked her lips nervously and he dove on it. First kissing her bottom lip, he inched himself forward to capture her mouth in a deep throated massage with his tongue. He moaned into her mouth. Ororo was frozen- her eyes open, her heart thumping- because this was exactly why she didn’t often sleep around.
One, her heart belonged to a Cajun Advocate, no matter what. Two, the fear that the men may come to expect something from her. The Soldier, anonymous but haunting, had his eyes firmly closed and in his kiss Ororo could detect a fervency that was not there before. Slowly, his hips trailing a figure eight against her, he let his fingers trace a path down her arm before he captured her hand and placed it on his waist. The signal was unmistakable. He wanted her to want him, to touch him. It was a stooped movement that Ororo hadn’t expected from the Soldier. Sighing into his mouth, she knew she had to let go of her past. She called him a Soldier but it only meant that she kept forgetting she was one too. Soldiers were without attachments, without thoughts for the past because they had all the answers they could ever need.
By making love to this man, in this way, would erase every part of Remy from her body and, she hoped, her mind.

Later, much later, Logan breathed deeply. He had never been so satisfied. It gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach: content. The girl, Ororo, sat up first.
He resisted pulling her back into his arms. Only in the minutes before, he’d been using his powers to determine exactly how to incite as many orgasms in her body, wringing every ounce ecstasy from her nerves. He knew she enjoyed the slow burn of intense concentration on every one of her carnal fantasies. In turn, she gave him exactly what he wanted: the perfect mixture of pain…and pleasure.

“Where are we going?” she asked him not looking over her shoulder to face him.
Logan smirked. “So that was your plan? Fuck me senseless and get me to reveal all my secrets?”
Ororo was serious, her elbows resting casually on her knees. “I don’t think you have many secrets. Except your name.”
Logan cocked his head. “That might be but uh, the name is classified. As is yours.”
“But you know my name,” she laughed. He tried not to shudder as he recalled calling out that name, over and over again, as she let lightning and gentle breezes trail over his skin.
“Well technically ah don’t count,” he said as surly as he could.
“No matter. We shall be wherever it is we are going when we get there,” Ororo let out what have sounded like a growl as she stood. “Until then, I do want to thank you for helping me release some energy-”
“My pleasure,” he chuckled. She had a funny way of speaking about facts. They didn’t just have sex, they’d made as close to consummating love as Soldiers get.
“- and we won’t have to ever do that again.” Ororo brushed dirt from her buttcheeks. Logan helped by slapping her ass.
“Woah, why the HELL not?” Logan protested as he shot up.
“I am a Soldier. And I think you’re getting a little personal. Who knows when you last had sex but don’t get so damned attached. Just think, at least you know how long it takes to get where we are going. Surely that will make your sexless journeytime pass quicker.”
Logan was speechless. He turned away from her, her following, before stopping and returning to face her still speechless. He did this a few times until Ororo stopped following and waited for him to get over his shock.
“You’re a real piece of work, know that?” Logan growled in her face before stalking off.
At her heart, Ororo was a pragmatic woman. She assumed he’d get over his bruised ego. But in the mean time she prepared for a long march.

Ororo coughed just to break the monotony of sound of footsteps falling into dirt.
Again, days were passing without any stopping to rest.
Her long hair snagged on a crest in the rock wall every time she caused a fresh breeze to flutter down the endless cave tunnel. She wondered where the source of the small blessing came from but knew that it was far, far from her.
There must be an end to this, she thought. She was impatient to find it but something told her this journey was meant to be long for a reason.

Well I never was the waiting type, she chuckled to herself.

She moved to tap his shoulder. His hunched back, clenched buttocks, and tense calves radiated hatred towards her, the single focus of his emotions in the lonesome tunnel, but it wasn’t something to concern her self with.
But before she could do so he snapped around on his heel, grabbing her wrist and pushed her into the wall. Ororo’s entire body slammed into every hill and crevice in the rock but she schooled her face to show the barest gleam of annoyance.

He only stared down at her, his look only carrying one message: This is your only warning.

“Very well, then. I suppose you don’t know the time.”

Hours later, Ororo’s nostrils were still flared as she tried to reign in her temper. She felt the ground shake when he’d attacked her, ready to bury her alive, and she knew to win this war she’d have to concede this battle.
He released her seconds later, harshly throwing away her touch as if it disgusted him.

Ororo shook her head.

Men, in her experience, were far more emotional than women. It only became worse the longer they spent in each other’s company---alone.
The Soldier appeared at first to be like her- above most of the most petty human emotions- but it was becoming clear as their time grew longer between them that it was harder for him to disguise the soft, weak parts of his ever so manly character. Ororo rarely tried to put on a show with anyone. She was who she was- strong or weak- and others had no control of any part of her personality.

A thought came to her mind “And they never, ever will…not again…please mother...no!!” but she forcefully put that away.

They trekked onwards, the time passing slowly, and the world Ororo now knew seemed small and pointless.

When they arrived at a forked road he turned sharply to the left. The right avenue was a larger awning with a well worn track and a warm blaze of a single torch ahead.
Evidently the Soldier decided that a short cut would be best.

This earthy corridor cut sharply downwards and Ororo’s annoyance with the man lessened as her fear grew. It wasn’t an unreasonable fear; it was a logical one that cried out something primal and human. Not so much a fear but perhaps an apprehension.
It was a strange feeling she couldn’t remember ever feeling, this way, so deeply. Her gut clenched and she forced herself not to think of the walls now within easy arm reach. The Soldier merely crouched down to continue.

Only when the walls began to touch her shoulder did Ororo start to consider she wouldn’t make it. The floor dipped and rolled but the ceiling remained an omnipresent weight above her.
Her gut was telling her something was very wrong. Her heart felt like someone was punching it just to keep it working. She walked slower and slower, trying to put off the inevitable, until the Soldier was a distant bobbing shadow. She didn’t even have the space to turn her head. She tried to breathe deeply but her mind screamed that wasn’t going to work. Every second, every foot forward, she felt the growing strain of the natural and unnatural world enclosing her and growing...feeding on her emotions and strength.... When a few pebbles fell on her head she screamed.

Logan jumped when he heard the scream. The hellion that boss Devil had attached him to was trailing behind and he figured he’d finally got her where he wanted. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when she begged him for mercy but he’d think of something. He smiled trying to conceive of worse and crueler plans. This was his moment to show her exactly who she was playing games with. And yet he wondered if this was all it really took to shake her. And if he wanted to play with something so weak. He sniffed.

Logan waited a few minutes but the woman wasn’t moving. Taking a deep breathe, as if he would need a steadying breathe, he turned back.
Leaving her even further behind was an option but his mission went beyond his personal misgivings. Logan felt the second his part was accomplished he could tell the Boss what a mistake this one was. She was no Soldier. Maybe a snivelling Advocate but no Soldier.
Growling he narrowed his eyes. He’d noticed the air getting thicker with dust but it wasn’t exactly like he was suffering from allergies.
In front of him the path they were on narrowed and widened in extreme swings of excess. Ororo was crouched farther back.

When the Soldier came upon her he was shocked. Ororo couldn’t blame him. Even Remy would be shocked by this. Deep inside she knew this was the path not taken. The earth, dark and red, waited to quench itself in their blood.
This tunnel was not safe.
She fell to her knees as she felt the first wave of crushing power waiting to bear down on them. Trembling, holding the walls apart with her fingers, she tried to speak to explain.
From the second she diverted a portion of her attention from the cave the elements began to unwind themselves.
Hurriedly, Ororo snapped her attention back to it. Taking deep meditative breathes she went into a yoga warrior pose she’d invented in one of her past lives.

Despite telling herself not to think about anything, to clear her mind, Ororo couldn’t help think about the lives she had lead and wonder what key mistake had driven her to hell. Or if there was any real sin that could have brought her to this moment. Did anyone look back on their life and find themselves exclaiming “Aha!”? She suspected there were too many shades of gray for that. Even Dr Faustus could never figure it out. The trembling beckoned and Ororo put her mind into a vise. She needed to concentrate deeply.

Logan’s senses were going wild. He knew he’d never taken this route before but he’d been told it was possible. “Just a rough ride for a newb,” his own initiator into the dark world of Soldiering had guffawed at his questions. Obviously what Charlie “Chuckles” X had actually meant was that the place was a deathtrap. He cursed himself and wondered how the hell he was going to get them out of this.

“Remy,” she whimpered his name like a prayer. She repeated his name, wanting him here with her. If he could only feel the absolute power of the earth…If he could only quiver with her in awe!
The Soldier grabbed her by the shoulders, which worked by steadying her as well as dragging her forward, and muttered to himself, “It’s Logan.”
Ororo took a few steadying breathes.
“What?” she murmured.

Ororo was beyond listening to a mere mortal. She felt her soul, for once in a long time, soaring on a crest of complete power. But the power of the soil is deep and ancient as the pull of the ocean’s gravitas. Perhaps in one of her past lives, she would have been equipped to handle this situation but even then she supposed she might struggle.

“Lo-gan,” he enunciated out slowly for her. “L-O-G-A-N. It’s my name. Yours is Ororo? Happens to be the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard,” he coughed as another rain of once deeply ingrained dirt and mould showered them.

Ororo could hear the roar of the vortex willing to drag her in. Beneath their feet, the earth trembled in want. This time it shook so hard Logan had to steady himself with a free hand. Faintly she recognized the puny waste of meat in front of her.
But barely.
In the heart of the dark, time has a clock that tolls for those beyond the coils of death and life. The ticking began to tune itself to Ororo’s heartbeat- a rhythm too slow, too large for her tiny body to handle.
Logan introduced himself again. He felt, rather than sensed, Ororo was struggling with something deeper than a case of claustrophobia. The outcome of that battle would be the collection of one reward: their lives.
Softly he used his words, tongue, and gentle caresses to encourage her. He lapped at her neck and nipped her cheeks. Cupping her ass he hauled her closer to him despite the restriction in space. He felt her lean on him but it wasn’t like when they had been having sex and she had just her body on top of him.
This was an extraordinary power and heft that was coming from some outside source. He kept dragging both her body, soul, and mind forward. Nearly unable to handle the immense slabs of rock face that stopped him from picking her up he patiently moved one step after another.

After a time they came to a brief opening in their narrow trail. Stalagmites kissed the roof and the boulders and other sizable rock rumbled in response. Ororo stumbled but stood firm on her own. She went back to her warrior pose, legs thrust just so and her arms thrown up into the air, and Logan watched in amazement at her determination. For a second he considered interrupting but restrained himself. Looking around the considerably larger room in proportion to the rough path, Logan started to run through their options.

Too late to turn back.
Too dangerous to continue.
Too far to go before safety

Screwed, he whispered to himself, completely and totally fucked.

*_*

The Devil filed away the newest Saint’s paperwork. A small device shimmered and tinkled, a small choir with a tinny quality.
“Even God can’t make a great cellphone with perfect coverage huh?”
“God help me,” muttered Jesus, his voice crackling over the line. “He’s a comedian.”
“You’ve no kind words for your Uncle’s effort? Guess you won’t be my support act at any local competitions huh?” The Devil enjoyed cracking jokes with the young (…considering his family lineage) man. He was so serious with an ashy colouring to his skin from stress and an orator’s voice and demeanor. And a honking nose.
“I crack a couple of jokes of or about certain physical aspects which I will now respect due to your personal sensitivity while you’re meditating in the desert for 40 days and you get a permanent stick in your ass? Somehow that’s just not fair.”
“You’re not exactly my uncle,” Jesus snapped. He called mostly for business and rarely visited in person but if he did, it was for pleasure. The Devil saw to it he got laid every couple dynasties. It kept the kid from going insane.
“Well God ain’t exactly your dad, Lil Mister Spawned from Half of the Eternal Core of Reality, but you don’t stop milking that train do you?”
“Will you be serious?” Jesus asked. His tone implied he was bored but more likely he was in a hurry to return to something he’d been doing. He spent eons at his monitors, carefully helping his father plan war tactics. The Devil suspected God had really renewed his interest in their game with the mortals and reality they’d created ever since he’d chopped off a sliver of his essence and wrapped it in a mortal coil a la pigs in a blanket. Sending his angels here and there, guiding his “son” to a fruitful life, arranging allegories and miracles…it kept a guy busy.
The Devil stuck his tongue out. God had really upped him in this category. His own attempts had been less than stellar. Mostly because these playthings still didn’t really interest him. He gulped and tuned back into his pseudo nephew.
“…so as long as that Saint transfer went well I’m basically glad. Congratulations again on such a coup. But I wonder if we’ll always be stealing our best and brightest from each other?”
The Devil forced himself to chuckle like always.
“You’re welcome, I think? Always glad to take the deadweight.”
In actuality the Devil was interested in the concept of God & co. planning to steal something from him. Jesus noticed he’d perhaps spoken too much and excused himself quickly.

The Devil looked at the receiver for a few seconds before hanging up. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could feign interest in the small sins most people commit. Or take responsibility for the large ones. Willingly and gladly did he torture those who truly deserved it in the lower hells. But on his plain surrounding his tower…it was his little party. He realized he was relying on Logan, Remy, Forge, and now Ororo more than ever.
Nemirok avanda sane nipor, indeed.


*^*

In the cave everything except the two shivering bodies was still.

The earth is patient, it can wait. Waiting for blood.

Ororo slowly eased out of the warrior pose. Her body was rendered both mentally and physically stiff and tired. Logan helped her sit down in between his legs and despite her natural reflex to punch him or throw him off-she couldn’t. This was her- weak, fighting hard with everything she had, but still not nearly enough. She had to accept this.
After awhile she spoke, “It’s a good place. For now. It won’t last and it shall be worse when we leave.”
Logan nodded. He ignored her soft hair caressing his chest hairs, sending shivers down his spine. He repeated their options. He demanded himself to focus on their survival.
Ororo shook her head slowly. Weary but not yet out for the count she insisted they’d make it. Logan was expressionless but amazed. She wasn’t a quitter.
"Perhaps we might call on some ally?” she asked.
Logan snorted. “Out in the middle of nowhere?”
“Have faith. My friend Remy might still be following us. If he discovers something amiss, and he will, he’ll get someone or die trying to help me. But will he be in time?” she mused.

Logan again made sure he did nothing to give away his earlier actions.
No Remy was coming.
Not in this lifetime.

“Well what’s our back up plan in case yer hero doesn't fed ex a miracle?”
Ororo shrugged. “Fuck like crazy and get down for the boogie sucker, we’re all going to die anyway? I don’t really have another back up plan other than to survive, live, get out.”
Logan snorted again. “Really?”
“Are you still upset I had such...active sex with you, Soldier?”
Logan stared at the imposing ceiling. He felt pressure to get them out of there safely but he had a feeling this situation was beyond their control.
“Soldier? Are you thinking?”
“Ah got a name. Use it.”
Ororo wrinkled her brow. Slowly she felt the Soldier take two knuckles to her cheek, taking a bead of her sweat.
“Hmm, I think I would remember you telling me something like that-”

Her words were cut off by the viciousness of another ripping in the hemisphere.

“It comes,” she stated simply. “Prepare yourself, Soldier.”
Slowly they rose, his arm on her elbow, and they turned to each other. Their enemy was faceless, emotionless, and timeless.
“It’s Logan.”
"What-ever, Soldier."