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.





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