Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

THE MANOR: PRIDE OF THE ELLIOTS

The halls of the estate echoed with the clinking of glass and the stuffy chatter of the upper class. The attitude was lively, guests and hosts alike enjoying the pleasantries and the ability to flex one's wealth.

A storm raged outside, peppering the surrounding forest in heavy rain and an ominous display of thunder and lightning.

What a beautiful day to host a gala.

Hosted by the famed Elliot Family, the gala was a celebration—and a front to further advance high society. Billionaires mingled with millionaires, the rich mingled with the comfortable. But above all, the Elliot Family remained the dominant force in high society.

James Elliot, a businessman whose wealth could bury several small African nations. Holding major stakes in notable companies, the largest being JCJenson (IN SPAAAAACEE!!!!)—an interstellar machine making juggernaut. He also donated to charities!

And what is a man without his wife?

The esteemed Louisa Elliot, elegant and graceful in every way. The epitome of high society and the face of beauty, she could sink careers with a mere sneer. She also donated to—very specific—charities!

The family had it all, everything they'd ever want or need. But what good is all that… When you have a legacy to protect?

With this thought in mind, the two brought forth the new Queen of high society and business alike…

The one and only,

Tessa James Elliot!

Who currently sat in her room, a chain attached to her wrist and connected to her own bedframe… Not a very good introduction, huh?

. . .

Tessa was something of a… Rebel, in a sense.

Yes, she followed her parents instructions and guidance. Doing as they said, acting as demanded—in her own words, she was nothing but a puppet for her not-so-loving parents. But that didn't mean she wasn't her own person, the teenager certainly had her quirks!

She was a beautiful mix between a genius and a weirdo. She was frighteningly smart for a girl the age of a high schooler, being able to recode and repair technology salvaged from a literal dump. She even had the proof to show, having rescued four drones from the dreaded disposal grounds and making herself some friends!

Why make friends when you can literally MAKE friends? The latter decision came much easier to the introverted Australian… Probably the consequence of never being allowed to go to any form of public or private school.

She didn't even get homeschooled by her parents… Unless you'd count the best tutors money could hire.

This isolation so early in her life made Tessa develop some… Quirks. Now, Tessa considered herself quite the lively and kind-hearted individual. But of course, she was extremely asocial—obviously, her only friends were ROBOTS.

How could she be expected to relate to other humans when she barely interacted with any? Ignoring her parents and tutors. They were closer to dinosaurs.

So as any sane and intelligent young lady would do, she took up some unique hobbies.

Gotta get hair for her dumpster pets found family somehow, y'know?

Digging up graves, morbid decorations covering her room enmasse—skulls, bones, bottles of blood, chemicals, et cetera. She even had some things that'd be considered witchcraft laying around too.

A stark difference to the more age appropriate decorations such as her beloved rocking horse, bicycle, doll house and stuffed animals.

Tessa really was a piece of work, just… Not in the way her parents wanted.

Despite listening to them, she'd always told herself she'd never be like them. Resentment was there, rising through years of neglect and abuse.

Little did she know, she'd never get the chance to tell them off for everything they'd done to her.

. . .

“J I don't have time for this!” Tessa snarled tugging at her chained up wrist, her gaze flipping between her bedframe scornfully and the worker drone sitting on the rocking horse with a pout.

The maid crossed her arms. “Sorry Tess, corporate’s spoken.” J replied stubbornly, her fear of further punishment befalling her mistress overpowering her loyalty.

Tessa narrowed her eyes, staring daggers into the white-eyed drone—who’s visor gained a nervous sweatdrop in the corner.

Pacing around the middle of the room, Tessa grumbled underneath her breath. She was not a fan of her situation. Cyn screwed up—unforgivably this time—and N covered for her, and now he was gonna die! She didn't know where V was, and J was being… 

She was being difficult.

Snapping her gaze on her first rescue, Tessa's tone deepened as she spoke with as much authority she could manage.

“Serial Designation J, if you don't get me out of these chains RIGHT NOW I won't EVER talk to you again!”

The rocking horse creaked as it came to a sudden halt. J’s eyes hollowed as she stared back at Tessa, her visor displaying an entire spectrum of emotion. “D-don’t…” Her voice module crackled.

Tessa marched as closely to J as she could, glaring down at her with more anger than she'd ever wanted to show to any of her friends. “For God's sake, J! N is out there, alone and chained to a bloody tree!”

“I refuse to lose any of you, ANY of you!” Tessa loomed over the trembling worker drone, her striking resemblance to the Grim Reapers of drones—Louisa and James Elliot, respectively—gave her quite the fear factor.

J forced out a synthetic gulp out of her voice module, her fingers digging into her arms as she held herself more securely. Forcing herself to keep eye contact with Tessa.

“I don't have the k-key…!” The maid squeaked.

The prideful head maid, J, was not feeling very professional at the moment. Her boss wasn't even threatening to fire her, it was much worse. She was threatening to make her a window sitter! A burden!

andalsostopbeingfriendsandJcouldnotallowthat.

Tessa's gaze softened as she took a step back, her eyes tightly squeezing shut as she breathed in.

Exhaling, she opened her eyes and spoke in a more pleading tone. “J… Industrial machinery? You're a walking forklift!” She offered up her chain wrist, gesturing to it invitingly.

. . .

“They want less hours… and more pay~!” Tessa declared dramatically, bringing the back of her hand to her temples and leaned backwards ever so slightly.

Her corporate cuddle buddy subordinate growled as her eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening around the chain as she chewed on it aggressively. It was mildly unprofessional, but how else was she supposed to get Tessa out?

The Australian huffed as she looked down at J, she needed to rile her up more.

Leaning down, she brought her lips right next to her audio receptors and softly whispered. “I think they want paid vacation too… I heard they're talking about it at the next UNION MEeeEeeEETING.”

And something snapped.

The chain went slack around Tessa's wrist as J unleashed a triumphant roar as she leaned back onto her haunches.

“THE STOCKHOLDERS COME FIRST!!” She quickly composed herself into a proper businesswoman, after reverting from the feral beast she just was.

Standing there in silence with one another, J’s expression shook with instability as she breathed heavily—her shoulders rising and falling as if she'd just run a marathon. Tessa stood over her, rubbing her waist sorely despite the end of the chain remaining securely… Whatever, she was free now.

Tessa gave J a moment to cool down, before placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle squeeze. “Up and at it, Jaybird. We've got a butler to save.”

The head maid looked up at her mistress, her systems stabilizing as her eyes straightened out—the briefest blush flashing across her visor before being replaced with a grin.

“I won't let you down, Tessa.”

And so, the two Strapping Royals exited her bedroom and into the silent hallways. Ready to rescue the ever lovable N and survive this god awful gala.

Sticking tight to one another's sides, Tessa and J walked through the hallways towards one of the side doors in absolute secrecy. J knew better than to make any comments regarding N’s importance at the moment…

Tessa was on a warpath.

. . .

J didn't hate N, she couldn't, nobody could—it was impossible. Her issues never laid on his bubbly enthusiasm, people-pleasing attitude or joyful vibes. Those were good traits in a subordinate, no matter how you'd look at it.

She knew that quite well, and it made her… Scared. Her position was at stake, her life was at stake.

Tessa wouldn't throw her away, she knew that better than anyone… But she couldn't bear the thought of not being the one beside her.

So J did what she did best.

She clawed her way up the corporate ladder, no matter the fallout she left behind. N wouldn't be a threat to her, not when he was incompetent. She gave him jobs without proper instruction, and when he tried his best but didn't meet expectations he was unaware of?

Reprimand him.

It was… A little unorthodox, but what Tessa didn't know didn't hurt her. All she needed to know is that it would always be J by her side.

This cycle of abuse unconventional training kept N in a bad light with Corporate (Tessa's parents) and kept her in their ‘mildly acceptable’ category. 

But even that didn't discourage him. J felt like he knew what she was doing… And wanted revenge.

The moment Tessa brought him in from the dump he belonged in she was all over him. He was such a ‘ray of sunshine’ in her dull, depressing life. 

Uh, hello? She's right here!

She was NOT jealous.

. . .

Descending the steps down a spiralling staircase, the distant sounds of footsteps and chatter kept the two on guard. Thankfully, it was only a pair of worker drones going about their duties. With only a little bit of eavesdropping, the two determined the party was nearing its climax and apparently, Tessa's father would soon have his ‘grand’ speech.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Tessa practically burst through the door and rushed out—beelining towards the lumbering tree nearby.

Her mother's favourite tree to ‘punish’ disobedient drones.

J followed a few steps behind, having placed a wedge in the door. Tessa had rounded the tree and completely disappeared from her sight. She followed, her stride slowing the closer she got.

She wasn't ready to accept the negative thoughts circulating through her processors, not when Tessa's silence remained unanswered. She needed to see.

J stood behind Tessa, her eyes hollowing in horror as Tessa kneeled at the feet of N's disheveled appearance. His uniform torn, his hair ruffled… And his visor shattered.

Tessa's silence was unnerving, her turmoil only indicated by her fists tightening at her sides.

Suppressing her own feelings, J slowly outstretched a hand. Stepping forward and squeezing Tessa's shoulder, a small gesture to remind her that her first was still with her.

“After everything I did for her.” Tessa muttered. “I take her in, I fix her and I give her a family…”

“It's not fair.” Her voice was devoid of her accent, engulfed in grief and anger. Resulting in a darker, flat tone.

The Aussie ran a hand through his tangled hair, a choked sob escaping her lips as she tore her gaze away from him. Throwing herself into J’s waiting arms, bawling into her uniform shamelessly.

The maid reciprocated in kind, hugging her mistress tightly as she couldn't tear her gaze from the blinking text on his shattered visor.

Fatal Error.

They remained there for a few minutes, until J looked up. Her gaze followed the trunk of the tree up into the branches, until finally looking high above at the raging storms above. It was getting worse, she needed to get Tessa inside.

Squeezing Tessa reassuringly, she pulled away just enough to meet her eyes. Soft, brown eyes turned red from crying met neon white—J’s resolve chipping away every tick.

“We need to go inside, Tessa.” She whispered solemnly.

It took her a long moment before she was met with a response. “... Can we take him inside? I don't want him to get c-cold…” Her voice was withdrawn, weak and ridden with the weight of failure. “Oh god. What if V sees hi-”

J’s arms tightened around her, hugging her fiercely as they remained locked in an embrace. Protecting each other from the elements as it began to rain harder.

“Of course, Tess…” J nodded, breaking away from the hug painstakingly slowly. She gestured for Tessa to return to the propped open door while she… Secured the cargo.

Tessa only nodded, turning away and trudging off into the direction J had gestured to. She'd never seen her look so depressed.

J closed her eyes as she freed N from the chains binding him to the tree, sickness threatening to boil onto her visor and out of her mouth. Carrying the butler in her arms, she quickly caught up with Tessa—traversing the muddy terrain with ease in comparison to the ill-dressed human.

. . .

The door shut behind them with a thud, a click following soon after as J locked the door. Tessa had declared that they needed to visit the library before returning to her room, stating that ‘N would want his favourite book after I fix him’. 

J would not argue.

Tessa led the way as J trailed close behind, N still within her arms. The endless hallways and corridors had become eerily quiet, save for the distant chatter of the gala. The maid found this odd in two manners.

First and foremost; she was the head maid. She knew the schedules and routines like the back of her hand, she knew there was meant to be foot traffic. Cleaners, servers, et cetera.

Secondly and more illogically, she had this looming sense of dread—completely unrelated to her dead subordinate in her hands.

If this wasn't reason for caution, or suspicion at the least… She didn't know what would.

Tessa pushed the grand doors to the library open, waiting for J to enter before closing the door behind her. She moved in silence, lurking through the shelves in search of N's favourite book.

J’s visor caught the light illuminated by the thunder above perfectly. The storm was giving the manor everything it had, the atmosphere could not be any worse. J felt the need to create a new folder, simply titled “unexplainable adrenaline causes”.

Very simple.

Thud.

Tessa turned her attention away from the endless shelves, looking back to find… Nothing? Hesitantly, she deviated from her task and backtracked. Her eyes widened as she returned to the seating area, conveniently right next to the door they'd entered from.

N laid crumpled at the feet of the head maid, still as beaten up as ever. J wasn't doing so hot though, not anymore.

Her body was limp, her arms hanging loosely at her sides as yellow text blinked repeatedly over her sleek black visor.

Error 606

And to ruin her beautiful visor even more, above the text laid a symbol blinking in perfect synchronization.

(><)

Tessa shivered as fear crept up her spine, her mood worsening even further. She already lost one drone, why was J’s visor saying she was improperly disposed of? She already got that bug out of her system.

And then there was the cross, that isn't supposed to happen even if they are improperly thrown out. 

Against her better judgement, she moved closer to J.

She was completely inactive, unresponsive and immobile. This small reassurance gave Tessa just enough confidence to slip behind J, and lift up some of her hair. 

Inspecting her ports, Tessa sighed in relief as she let her maid’s hair rest against her head once more. No water damage, no obstruction. Tessa just needed to go grab her laptop and a connector, and J would be back in business.

Rounding J, Tessa winced as she gently scooped N's body off of the carpet floor. Laying him in an upright position in one of the nearby chairs, placing J next to him as well. After tonight, they'd always be together. She wouldn't let any of them out of her sight again.

Tessa wiped her hands on the hem of her dress, looking at the two drones with a look of pure longing.

They'd definitely have a movie marathon later.

Exiting the library, the grand doors clicked shut as she rested her forehead against the smooth wood.

With a weary sigh, she pushed herself off the door and made her way through the manor once more—now unaccompanied. As she walked, Tessa's mood continued to drop with the distant dance and dine of the gala.

She'd never forgive her mother, even if N was recoverable. She was so sick of letting them walk over her and dictating everything she did. Tessa's mind raced with unconventional ways to… Get what she wanted. She could blackmail them, threaten to rat them out for their behaviour behind closed doors and scummy business tactics.

That'd get high society to give them the boot.

Tessa's hand gripped her room's doorknob tightly, pushing the door open and letting it swing—hitting the adjacent shelf and knocking a jar of chemicals overboard. She'd replace it later… It probably wasn't corrosive or anything.

Her eyes widened, a flash of genuine surprise before morphing into a nasty scowl. She couldn't believe the audacity of the defect…

Cyn stood at the far end of her room, the large window perfectly framing her figure. Lightning struck, illuminating her shambling appearance as her head tilted to the side innocently.

"𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚃𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊. 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚂𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎.” The worker drone greeted, her voice seemingly more off-putting than usual. Tessa just found it aggravating, Cyn was acting much too calm for her mistakes.

Stepping forward, Tessa narrowed her eyes as she crossed the room to her desk. “Now's not the time, Cyn.” The Aussie hissed, rummaging through her workspace while trying to ignore the drone entirely.

The window shook as it was thrown open, Tessa reacting a moment later to the sight of… Cyn, just standing there—with her laptop in hand.

"𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛?”

Cyn tilted her head to the other side, her grip on the laptop frighteningly loose. Tessa stepped towards her, forcing her attitude down with grit teeth.

“I need it for N and J, give it over-” She reached out, but Cyn stumbled back. Pressing herself back against the open windowsill.

"𝙾𝚔𝚊𝚢.” 

Tessa snatched the laptop from her, turning back to her workspace and snagging a connector cable. She looked up at the mirror above her desk for a moment-

It shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Bugger-!” Falling back onto her ass, her descent was halted when something clamped around her waist—pushing herself back onto her feet she whirled around and was met with an abomination.

Cyn had transformed, her lower half morphed into some sort of Eldritch centipede. Tendrils of flesh and synthetic skin, strange serrated claws and scythes jutted from her back. Tessa almost pissed herself then and there.

Looming over her, a warped giggle escaped the voice module of the mutant. "𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍, 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢.”

Cyn grinned, her freaky tendrils covering the floor around Tessa and trapping her within the room.

"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝.” Tessa cringed as a slimy tendril, covered in… What she could only assume to be blood and oil stroke her head. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎… 𝚊 𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢.”

It skittered back, leaving only its upper torso in the windowsill. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝... 𝙾𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎.”

Lightning cracked.

And Cyn disappeared.

. . .

What the FUCK?

Tessa gathered her equipment before rushing out of the room, sprinting in heels through the halls and skipping steps as she descended. She couldn't even comprehend the interaction, what Cyn had become… Did her coding do that? Was she fucked up from the start?

It's not her fault she brought in a bloody ELDRITCH MONSTER.

The Australian ran past multiple drones, frozen in place—mid step, mid task… That damned error flashing across their visor in a sickly yellow.

Bursting through the library doors, she slammed them shut behind her and locked them immediately. Quickly inspecting J, she found no foul play or tampering… Good.

Placing her equipment next to her, J ran through the library and locked the other door before running back over.

Sitting in a chair next to J, she opened her laptop and plugged in one end of the connector cable. Lifting J’s hair up once more, she inserted the other end into one of her connection ports.

Tessa began her diagnostics check, checking every integral system that made J tick. The minutes ticked by, the grandfather clock driving the Aussie into minor madness as she worked.

… It seemed the oddities continued.

Tessa's admin access over J’s systems were replaced, completely overwritten. It explained little, but at least she knew now why J’s systems were on the fritz.

Cyn had placed herself as J’s system admin, and likely as every other manor drone as well.

That little bugger.

Thankfully, Tessa knew her way around a WoS. It didn't take as long as she expected, but this was her second time wiping admin privileges from J’s systems.

The Aussie leaned back into her chair, exhaling deeply as she watched J boot up. Individual systems firing and warming in perfect synchronization.

She had so much to tell J.

Wait.

She's going after the Gala!

. . .

“Wakey wakey…”

J groaned lazily. Her limbs felt heavy, she felt as though her oil was sludge forcing itself through her circulation systems. A loading screen lit up her visor, causing some sort of reaction from the distant voice.

“Really? C'mon J, we don't have time for this- Jaybird??”

Huh. A nickname. Who would dare call her something like that? She was above such trivial, deeply personal things.

“Bloody hell…” 

I mean, if Corporate ever caught her slacking off like that she'd never get a promotion! She can't protect those she holds dear if she's at their level… Actually, who does she hold dear?

J groaned again as she felt heavier, her lower half pinging her with caution as rustling came ever so closer to her audio receptors.

“Sleeping on the job, J?”

Fourth quarter profit mother of company leadership retreat-!

. . .

Neon white eyes flickered to life over a sleek black visor, the drone's vision returning to be greeted with Tessa's face nearly an inch away from her own. 

Her saviour, her mistress, her boss… Was straddling her hips. This was definitely a PR nightmare.

A violent blush erupted across her visor, her eyes squeezing shut in vain to get the view out of her head. But to no avail… Obviously. J had already thrown the image into her (very private) folder.

. . .

For visualization, she looked like this.

(⁠≧~≦⁠)

Enjoy that image.

. . .

Tessa knocked on her visor with a chuckle, running a hand through J’s pigtails as she smiled warmly. “Why does that always work?”

J remained deathly silent, only opening her eyes moments after and avoiding eye contact with her boss.

They remained in this silence for a minute or so, when J finally worked up the courage to open her mouth-

“I don't know what that bugger's up to, but I got a sneaking suspicion that she's off to murder the crowd!” 

Tessa blurted out, grabbing both sides of J’s face and forcing them to look at one another. J’s expression shifted, her confusion clear on her very expressive visor.

“... What?”

“Cyn's gonna massacre the gala!” Tessa doubled down, halfway to shouting as she shook J lightly.

J’s eyes swirled as she was manhandled, her lower half pinned down while her upper half was swaying with Tessa's hands.

Gently removing Tessa's hands, J gave her a skeptic look as she tilted her head curiously. “Can you… Explain that hypothesis a bit more, Boss?

Tessa nodded eagerly, beginning her explanation with dramatic hand gestures.

“Right, right. So get this: You went offline when we got into the library, I went to go get my laptop to reboot you and that rotten no-good DEFECT was in there! She was WAITING for me!”

Tessa made a strangling motion. “The AUDACITY!”

“A little bit of talking, wasn't too happy with her, right? And then my bloody mirror was like… ‘I’m gonna explode now?’"

Tessa grabbed J’s head again, staring at her with mildly crazy eyes.

“AND THEN SHE TRANSFORMED?”

J looked at Tessa, hesitancy written clear as day across her face. Stifling a sarcastic comment, the maid smiled awkwardly as she placed a hand on her mistress’ shoulder.

“Boss, it's not that I don't believe you… But this is a bit… Much?”

Tessa huffed, pulling herself off of J and dusting herself off dramatically. Extending a hand to her maid, she shot her a stubborn look.

“C'mon mate, we're going to the Gala! No time to be sitting around!” The Australian proclaimed, flashing J a confident grin. She was going to save everyone!

And maybe win her the love from her parents she deserved.

Pulling the drone to her feet, J and Tessa bid N a quick ‘be right back’ before taking off for the center of the party.

The two snaked through the hallways, following the sounds of chatter and the clinking of glass as rain continued to batter the grandiose windows.

. . .

The manor had fallen deathly silent by the time they rounded the final corner, the large ballroom doors visible at the end of the hallway. J stuck an arm in front of Tessa, stopping her in her tracks as her eyes narrowed.

“Psst, J… What is it, girl?” Tessa asked confusedly, looking down the hallway with a cocked eyebrow. She was shushed with a cold finger to her lips.

J kept her eyes on the doors, remaining deathly silent as she focussed her hearing into the room beyond.

The storm continued to rage outside, the frequency of the lights flickering increasing with every clap of thunder and flash of lightning. They really should've rehosted the gala, this weather wasn't suitable for anything—man and man-made alike.

An uproar of screaming and giggling erupted from the ballroom, a sickly yellow light pouring out from the glass surrounding the doors.

Before Tessa could even comment, J’s words cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. Her eyes were hollow, her tone shaky yet non-negotiable.

“We need to leave, now!” Gripping her mistress' arm tightly, J broke into a sprint down the hallway they'd come and tugged Tessa along.

The screams echoed through the hallways, no longer muffled as some guests escaped the slaughter. Running for their lives from the bloodlusted predators, the manor turns into a playground for predator and prey.

As they ran, they came across other people—some fleeing from the sight of J alone or tagging along behind them.

Some hallways were empty, clean and probably safe… Others? Not so much. Blood, guts and gore covered others—intestines and corpses left to rot in many others. The path to the library became ever longer and winding as passages closed.

By the time they neared the final stretch to the library, they had amassed seven or so survivors.

Too many.

Safety in numbers wasn't viable, not when the estate's doors were guarded by mutated workers. Numbers were a risk, they were nothing more than a herd of prey.

And the predators followed.

J pulled Tessa into her arms as she ran faster, leaving some of the guests behind as their guttural screams echoed through the pristine corridor. The Australian squeezed her eyes shut, horrified and traumatized.

I wonder how much money her parents would throw at this problem?

The door bursted open, with J unceremoniously sliding Tessa onto the floor before turning and slamming the door shut.

Leaving those who had followed behind.

J locked the door, pressing all of her weight and strength against it as fists pounded on the wooden door. She grit her teeth as she felt the weight thrown against the door fluctuate. 

Tessa stared at J with horror as she scampered back, pushing herself underneath a table and hugging her knees tightly. Tears streamed down her face as she muffled her choked sobs in her knees.

This was Hell on Earth.

J’s eyes hollowed as the weight dispersed, before more piled against it. She could hear the snarling on the other side of the door, their claws tearing chunks off of the door.

But the drone refused to yield.

She kept herself against the door, using all of her force to hold back the horde. She knew they weren't here for her, and that only made her fight harder.

The struggle persisted for minutes.

The weight subsided, leaving J frozen against the door. Paralyzed by fear and exhaustion. Tessa remained underneath the table, a sobbing mess.

Creeeaaaak.

J’s eyes snapped to the far corner of the room, obscured by tall rows of books and shelves. For the shareholders sake!

THE OTHER FUCKING DOOR.

J took one last glance at Tessa, their eyes locking as teardrops appeared underneath J’s digital eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry Tessa—”

A dozen tendrils erupted from the shadows, knocking over shelves and sending books flying—wrapping themselves around the resisting J and pecked out N. Pulling them along the floor towards the open door on the far side of the room.

J’s hands dug into the carpet as she desperately tried to escape, her eyes meeting Tessa's as she spoke once more…

“I'll find my way b-back to you!”

Tessa let out a strangled cry.

. . .

Hours passed.

The screaming slowly subsided.

Replaced by heavy footsteps.

And slithering flesh.

Tessa could hear it all.

All from the door ahead.

She didn't care about the other door, nothing had entered.

But she knew.

Knew very well.

They were waiting for her to move.

A gentle knock echoed through the desolate library. Tessa didn't want to know who it was, it certainly wasn't J. It scared her, knowing whatever had the delicacy to knock had found her.

She didn't need to answer it.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, with Cyn flicking into existence right in front of the door. Still in her cute little maid get up, clean and ironed.

Her voice was eerily sweet, a sense of finality to it as her yellow eyes peered at Tessa's hiding spot.

“𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚝, 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝙸? 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗.”  

Tessa shivered, hugging herself tighter as she looked away.

Cyn tilted her head innocently. “𝙳𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚃𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊. 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗.”

“𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎. 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙽𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎…”

Cyn grinned as she suddenly appeared right in front of Tessa, laying down with her head resting in her hands.

“𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚃𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊. 𝙶𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎. 𝙾𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝.”

. . .

Days passed.

They merged together.

It felt like an eternity.

But the cavalry had arrived.

The massacre had been noticed.

. . .

Glass shattered as boots made contact with the floor, armed men clad in black gear flooded into the library. They fanned out, securing each entry and remained on high alert.

One of them, wearing a Hazmat suit, went directly for Tessa. Crouching down beside the table, his voice—as gruff as it was—was welcome in comparison to the false silence.

“Are you Tessa James Elliot?” The man asked, his voice clearly trying to sound friendly.

All Tessa could do was nod.

The man nodded. “Is there… Anyone else here?”

Tessa nodded.

The man sighed in relief, turning his attention to one of the men in black. Tessa couldn't hear them, but it wasn't long before the man turned his attention back to her.

“Who did this?”

Tessa winced, her voice course and dry. “She did.”

It took a few minutes, but the man had convinced Tessa to come with them. Exiting the library, they walked through blood soaked hallways and mutated drones. They were dispatched.

None of them were hers.

They reached the front door, where the man pushed it open and beckoned for her to exit.

“You're safe now. We've got you.” He had told her, and for a second…

She had believed him.

First came the screaming. Then came the shooting.

And then came her drones.

Tessa hadn't made it off the porch when the courtyard became a firefight. Ammo casings littered the ground as the men lit up the night sky, the storm above illuminating the winged monsters.

They'd swoop down, tearing into any poor soul that fell into their bloodied claws.

The man pushed Tessa forward, running alongside her as they ran down the road—the vehicles weren't an option.

They're only hope was to slip away unnoticed.

The man screamed in agony as yellow acid sprayed into his face, melting his flesh and producing a horrid smell.

Tessa fell forward, her heel snapping from the poor road condition. Just her luck…

One of the winged monsters landed in front of her, standing above her like a predator triumphant over its prey.

Tessa looked up fearfully, the tears returning in full force. Her eyes widened as her soft hazel eyes met a neon yellow cross. 

(><)

“Jaybird…” Tessa rasped, shying away from her first friend. Her words and her feelings were ignored, the ponytailed ‘Disassembly Drone' dragging her back towards the manor.

Tessa pleaded.

Tessa begged.

Tessa tried.

But J was on her smoke break.

Thrown onto the porch, Tessa looked up once more—finding Cyn standing in the large front doors of her home.

“𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎.”

She shook her head. “𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎. 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊.”

She was ripped off the ground by the back of her neck, J’s clawed hands wrapping around her neck as she brought her into the manor.

“Please, please… God no, Jaybird please—” Tessa begged, tears flooding down her battered face as they approached the open hatch.

Just before Tessa could see into the basement, they came to a sudden halt. J’s grip loosened, dropping Tessa onto her knees as she slowly turned to face her with a pained expression.

“𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙹, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐?” Cyn called from behind them, her uncoordinated footsteps nearing.

J's visor flickered, the yellow cross replaced with hollow yellow eyes. Her hand retracted into her hazard taped wrist, three s

Sharp talons taking its place. “I'm so sorry-” 

Tessa's mouth hung open as an empty scream escaped her lips, J’s claws tearing clean through her chest as noise erupted all around them.

The pounding of footsteps from behind became distant as Tessa's hearing became fuzzy.

Her claws raked upward.

. . .

Chapter Text

HELL: THE OCEAN STYX

Eyelids twitched as light shined upon them, the feeling of warmth enveloping them in a comforting embrace.

The winds were calm, a stark contrast to the raging clouds below. They were caked in golden sunshine. They were flying.

They were safe.

They were free.

They were alone.

But why were they alone? Why were they any of these things? Why was she here? What had happened?

They pondered, clutching their head sorely as their memory gave them no answer. Not even a glimpse, all they were met with was static.

They knew it was there, but it wouldn't reveal itself.

Oh brother, was she traumatized? Her therapist—albeit short-lived—talked to her about repression. Is that what she was experiencing right now?

Well, the thought wasn't very relevant at the moment. A stray thought in the wind, honestly.

The wind.

She shivered as she began to fall, her descent gaining momentum as the light shied away from her skin. The comforting warmth replaced by harsh winds and unrelenting rain, her vision darkening as she was engulfed in the clouds below.

Tessa screamed.

Her free falling figure broke through the clouds, revealing an endless ocean of eternal rain and misery. The waves crashed against one another, the harsh crack of lightning above nearly deafening the poor girl.

This was an uncannily realistic nightmare.

She fell closer and closer, her thoughts picking up as she braced for impact.

It's not like she watched any horror movies or Titanic as of late, why an ocean? 

Tessa hit the water with a harsh crack, pain erupting through every inch of her being. She sank not a moment after. She was forced underneath the waterline, the weight of something, of someone pushing her deeper and deeper.

Strange, wouldn't she wake up at this point?

Her lungs screamed for air, adrenaline forcing itself through her veins and propelling her forward. Her vision was no good, and her hearing was watered down—leaving her with only one sensation.

Touch.

Desperation pushed Tessa to new heights, her nails digging into rubbery surfaces and her feet kicking relentlessly. Despite the presumption she'd wake up in a cold sweat anytime now, the feeling of water rushing down her throat was unbearable.

The surface tension gave way as Tessa's head burst above the treacherous waters, she puked out water as she breathed in heavily.

But she had already overstayed her visit.

Hands, teeth, anything that could get a grip snapped at her legs—pulled her deeper, pushed her underneath themselves and used her as a stepping stone to float ever higher.

She wasn't the only one in the waters.

Far from it. For souls stretched on endlessly, all focussed on one singular goal. The surface. The air. The skies.

She wished she knew how to swim.

. . .

How long has it been? Tessa didn't know, she didn't have the time nor energy to think. She could only do, or die.

It was a lifetime of drowning, an endless cycle of struggle with foreseeable salvation. She could only fight, expel, inhale and repeat. It didn't matter how hard she fought.

She was only one in a sea of many.

Tessa could feel her body and soul being sanded down, the waters dulling her senses and reducing her mind to nothing.

It was an endless torrent of suffering.

But even the most stubborn spirit will break with time, that time may be hours, days, months—even years. 

But it will break.

This was no nightmare. This was a punishment, it was unnatural. There was no parent to blame or drone to complain, it was just her. Just Tessa.

Tessa deserved this. Why did she deserve this? That's not for her to know. She had done something wrong, and this was the price.

But what had she done?

She hoped it wasn't all the grave plundering… It probably was, the Aussie thinks it's her worst action.

She continued to ponder, her conscious withdrawing from the watery trance as her dormant mind awoke from its sunken slumber. Despite the people she robbed (likely) being horrible people, was the act of defiling a grave still punishable nonetheless? Did they put her here?

Where is she even?

A mistake she'd made. To think. To deviate from the struggle. Precious energy redirected to the mind, her instincts were dull and no longer scream.

Her mind pondered with what little air she had left, as she slipped deeper and deeper into the deep blue.

Another body to the locker.

She reeled as she clutched her skull, the pain unlike any she'd felt in an eternity. It was physical, it was external and it was most certainly solid.

She couldn't see, but she could tell she'd sunk farther than she'd ever before. The darkness creeped closer beneath her eyelids.

Another strike against her skull. She could tell it was wide and flat, she could tell by how much of her head had cried out in pain.

She reached out, finding an edge to the bottom of the board.

HOLY SHIT WAS THIS WOOD?

Tessa's hand explored the object within her hands, discovering it was some sort of oar… Aren't those used in boats?

HOLY SHIT IS THERE A BOAT ABOVE HER?

Her body buzzed with renewed energy, basically rubbing her face against the oar before quickly realizing she was still sinking.

The oar could only follow her so deep.

Battered hands clung to the oar, finding the thin beginning of its handle. Her fingers wrapped around it tightly, she would not let go.

This was her only hope.

Tessa felt the weight increase as the oar surged her higher and higher, pushing aside her competition as they desperately tried to cling onto her lifeline.

The surface tension broke as her head emerged. Then her torso followed, and then her legs… She clung to the oar, her eyes squeezed shut and body shivered as she felt the winds graze her skin.

“Open your eyes.” A voice asked, its tone raspy and dry. Authority and disdain bled through its words, the voice kinda reminded her of the deadbeat businessmen her Father would have meetings with.

Her eyes fluttered open weakly, widening to their fullest extent as she took in the light. The storms raged above, and the waters clashed below. And in the middle of it all…

Stood the Ferryman and his oar.

Adorned in an elegant white cloth, the blue skeletal figure hid its upper torso and above. A crescent moon displayed above the cloth where its face would likely be.

Like a wet cat caught in the rain, Tessa clung to the end of the oar while the Ferryman held her above the water.

The Ferryman made no effort to bring her aboard his rowboat. “Your destination?” He asked.

Tessa didn't know how to reply to that. Her mind had only just left a forced hibernation, she was still turning on.

“H-home…?” She answered pitifully.

The Ferryman returned her to the waves.

. . .

The Aussie felt her nerves spike as the cold water met her skin once more, she was right back where she—supposedly—belonged… But she had something no other had in this dreaded ocean.

She was still holding on.

Her grip did not release, nor did it weaken. She clamped down, wrapping herself around the oar as the masses followed suit. The oar became heavier and heavier as more and more bodies piled into it.

. . .

The man cursed as he fought to bring the oar above water, the wretched souls beneath clinging to it like moths to a flame. The rain continued to batter his aching bones, but he remained undeterred. 

Planting his foot against the edge of the rowboat, he continued to try and pry the water above the water.

His job was… Morbid, to say the least. He was the Ferryman, how did he become the Ferryman?

He murdered the other Ferryman.

When he was younger, he had asked his predecessor a simple question.

“Why can there only be one?”

His response was calm, devoid of any uncertainty. A stark difference to the waters they searched daily.

“Because there is only one cloak.”

And so, the cycle would continue. One cloak, one oar and one boat. This was what belonged to the Ferryman, and something many lacked below.

Purpose.

A divine task, given to the mantle of the Ferryman by the Lord himself. He was to ferry those damned to eternal punishment to their destinations.

He followed his duty faithfully, because he knew that this was the closest way to redemption. Servitude.

Soon, he would join the Lord above in his kingdom.

But first? He had to repent, to cleanse himself of his and humanity's sins.

What better way to do that than tear your skin off?

There was a slight… Deviation in the plan, however. The currents had once been calmer, the books speaking in great detail of a river where the Ferrymen would collect a toll from the damned and then ship them off.

The wrathful remained in wrath, the lustful to lust and the greedy to greed… Et cetera.

This all changed… A decent amount of Ferrymen ago, when the river became an ocean. The influx of souls overtook the Styx and brought the orderly queue to a nightmarish struggle.

The water did not cease, nor did the dead.

Sorting them became too much, and his curiosity overtook him. Those coming to Wrath were simply… Too diverse, in terms of punishment. It seemed as though the Judge of Hell had given up, or perhaps even he had become overwhelmed just as the original Ferryman had?

He will never know.

For he must continue his divine duty.

The boat rocked ominously as the oar slowly inched lower and lower beneath the waterline. The Ferryman refused to let his possession be lost to the sinners, lest he lose one of the gifts given to him by Heaven.

But try as he might, even the will of the Ferryman can fall to the writhing mass below.

The boat creaked before capsizing, bringing the Ferryman down with the ship. His grip on the oar remained unshaken, even as the cold water slipped through his bones.

He fought, gripping the boat with one hand as he continued to try and bring the oar above even as he slipped beneath the waves.

He joined the damned below in the struggle, except he needed not to breathe. No, all he needed was faith.

And he had faith in the Lord.

The Cycle mustn't break.

. . .

The clouds parted as golden light shined below, gracing the sinners caught in its warmth. The winds calmed as the air became charged with power, the saviour had arrived.

But the waters remained volatile.

Angelic wings brought forth the will of God, the holy hand of the Father descending with utmost grace.

The Ferryman felt himself begin to rise, the weight of the sinners beneath him lessening as he grew closer to the golden light above the surface.

So close…

The skeleton could only release his hold on the boat, outstretching his hand desperately to the blurry figure above.

The Light in his Darkness had revealed itself.

The oar slipped from his hand as the angel briefly dipped into the water, turning the cold water surrounding him into what could only be described as soldering to the sinful and comforting to the righteous.

The Ferryman could only relax as the Angel took him above the treacherous waters, bringing him above the water as he held him within his arms.

Holy shit this would make a great fanfiction 

The Angel spoke, his voice reverberating as his tone remained calm and soothing to the battered boatman.

“Be not afraid, sinner. Your devotion to God shows goodness in you. Plentiful indeed. The heart is willing, but the body must rest, lest you squander one of the Lord's creations.”

The Ferryman could only faint.

. . .

The water warmed as the glowing light descended into its depths, it was very comforting to the air deprived Australian. The others didn't find it as enjoyable apparently…

Bubbles erupted as her fellow drowning divers attempted to scream, but only brought more water into their lungs.

She alone stood as the sole owner of the oar now, and with the path cleared by the shiny light she was free to kick her way up to the air… Wait, the BOAT!

Tessa pushed herself forwards, breaching the surface and looking around while the water was still warm.

The rowboat rocked in the waters, upright and unoccupied. Looking to the skies, the storm raged above with dark skies as far as the eye could see…

Save for the fading golden light. 

She clambered onto the rowboat, tossing the oar aside as she laid down and simply… Rested.

The boat drifted idly along the currents and clambering of those below. Their hands scratching against the bottom of the boat, the sound fading into the background just like the rain above.

Finally, for the first time in forever…

Tessa could rest.

She exhaled slowly, each ragged breath softening as her chest rose and fell. Her body stung, but the warmth of the wood beneath her brought comfort.

The Aussie's eyes fluttered shut as the boat rocked, becoming a cradle to the final daughter of man from another world.

. . .

An Archangel descended down upon the wooden deck of a grand ship, catching the attention of its many passengers. They gathered on the foredeck, mere inches away from stepping overboard off the bow of the ship.

Two large, stone statues carved through the crowds, the masses parting for their might as they each extended a hand as far as they could.

The Divine relinquished his servant, placing the unconscious skeleton into the waiting arms of the Cerberus.

They brought the Ferryman below.

He hovered above the water, the sinners stared in awe at his magnificence. Some cried, some fell unconscious… But what they all showed in common, was faith.

They all bowed, their bodies kneeling onto the wooden deck as they prayed to the Archangel.

Wings made of pure hardlight kept the being afloat, covering the nearest of sinners in a divine blue light. They were graced with the presence of an Angel.

“Only in faith, may you find salvation.” The Archangel spoke, his voice soothing yet commanding.

The masses remained deathly silent, allowing the reverberating tone to burn into their minds. They had all suffered the cost of their actions, and were keen to never return to the watery depths below.

The Archangel tilted his helm, a small nod of approval before continuing on with his self-imposed task.

He wasn't one to care for their suffering, as they had brought this upon themselves… But he was not one to ignore those who repented—those who followed the light of the Lord.

Redemption was unlikely, but he cared not.

The beacon of righteousness soared above the waters, his armour forged of angelic steel perfectly captured the lightning raging above.

His wings tilted, vision peering out beneath the slits of a helm. He flew free of the wind, requiring no assistance in his flight. The winds bend to his will, for he is pure.

The sight of the humble rowboat appeared, floating adrift between turmoiled tides and struggling sinners. He descended elegantly, his arms crossed over his chest. His disdain grew as his eyes laid upon the contents of the boat.

There laid the only soul to ever find refuge above the wretched waters.

Disgusting.

His boots touched the tip of the bow, his wings remaining splayed and menacing. Who does this sinner think they are? To even try and escape their punishment?

He wouldn't have it.

“You DARE?” His voice boomed, startling the poor soul beneath him as she awoke with a jump.

She scrambled back, pressing herself against the stern of the rowboat as she held the oar defensively. Her eyes were wide, full of awe and fear, never before had she seen something so… Divine.

The Archangel studied the sinner disdainfully, finding oddities most concerning… For starters, she wasn't a husk. No, her body remained intact with no visible signs of deformation or warp.

The body was left behind in their mortal life, and their new bodies bestowed upon them by their soul. For one to keep their original vessel they must have an unbreakable wield, and hold great power…

Or she wasn't meant to be here.

Curious, the Angel thought. He continued to study the trembling girl, his mood softening as he pondered.

The Australian wasn't any better, frozen in place as her grip on the oar remained loose—causing her weapon to shake harmlessly.

Perhaps, this was a sign? He did not know, but the Lord did work in mysterious ways… Was this a test? A final puzzle left behind for one of his children to solve?

He hoped so, for his departure was abrupt and unexplained.

The Archangel stepped forward, stepping into the rowboat properly and towering over the spooked sinner(?). “Be not afraid, for I mean no harm.” His tone was softer, more graceful compared to the agitated command from before.

“Do you understand where you are?” He asked calmly.

His response was a hesitant shake of her head, the oar slipping out of her hand and clattering against the wood as he leaned forward.

“No?”

She struggled to speak, swallowing lump after lump of fear and confusion. All she could do was stare—stare at the divine being blessing her eyes.

“Do you understand who graces your presence?”

Her mouth opened to speak, her voice trembling as she forced out each word. “G-god…?” She stuttered out, her eyes widening as he shook his head.

“No, you stand before his faithful servant.” The armoured angel spread his wings, casting a brilliant glue glow over her and the surrounding waters.

“You stand before Gabriel, an Archangel of Heaven.”

. . .

Tessa was… Thinking hard, for the first time in a long time. Her sense of self had returned in her brief sleep, the sands washed away by the waters returning with the angelic tide.

If what loomed over her was an angel… And she just persevered over the horrific nightmare below… The mention of Heaven made one thing abundantly clear.

Tessa had been sent to Hell.

Was grave robbing that big of a sin? She'd have to ask, since nobody bothered to sentence her.

“I'm… Tessa.” She replied hesitantly, her tone shaky despite her forcing as much politeness as possible. She brought her knees closer, hugging herself in search of security as the Archangel loomed over her.

Gabriel nodded, slowly outstretching a hand to the shivering girl. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Tessa.” He spoke politely, pushing his own formalities forward as she took his hand moments later.

Now on her two feet, she let go of his hand and awkwardly dusted herself off. She was still struggling with the concept of eternal damnation and everything… But surely this—Gabriel fellow—could help her?

Maybe she did make it into Heaven, and there was just an error along the way? Did Heaven have logistic issues?

It doesn't matter, she needed to smarten up and listen… He's her best way off this boat and… Back home…?

Do not think of home.

She needed to pay attention.

The Archangel lowered himself onto one knee, his arms extending as his voice remained calming. “This ocean is no place for a soul such as yourself, let me bring you to safety.” Gabriel spoke, and his words reverberated. This… Performance, he was putting on, was certainly something he hadn't done in a millennium.

He was the righteous hand of the Father, a warrior of Heaven. He was not suited for… More soft hearted duties.

Thankfully, Tessa did not question a single word. 

Good, Gabriel did not have the patience for this at the moment. He had more pressing matters to attend to in his journey.

The Australian climbed into his arms, her frail hands clinging to his armour desperately as he took flight. Carrying her in one hand while the Ferryman's oar in the other.

They soared above the waters, the cries of the damned falling on dull ears as neither bothered to care for their own separate reasons.

Tessa saw them as the unlucky competition.

Gabriel saw them as sinners serving their sentence.

The sullen saw the one who kept them down.

They wanted freedom.

Or release.

The large boat of the Ferryman drew closer, growing larger and larger as they approached the horizon.

The volatile waters stirred.

Tessa did not notice, too focussed on the warmth the Archangel provided. The sensations thawing out nerves frozen by cold currents.

Gabriel quickened his pace, sharply diving as the passengers came into view.

Thunder clapped as the waters worsened, a roar of fury echoing through the storm as a tail curled around the stern of the ship.

The Sea Serpent had arisen.

Gabriel swept across the crowded deck, dropping the oar and Tessa into the arms of the sinners before sharply banking and flying towards the stern.

He knew what was attacking the ferry.

A long fleshy tail covered in stone plating, becoming carved into faces along its underbelly. The head would not be far, but Gabriel had to draw it out.

Blades of yellow and blue caught the glint of lightning as they escaped their sheaths. Gabriel struck down, stabbing the blades into its side and dragging them along as he flew.

The tail thrashed angrily, unfurling from the ship and slithering into the water. Gabriel freed his blades, the blood burning off the blades in a beautiful display of fire.

His gaze followed the beast beneath the water.

The lightning cracked as the head of the serpent erupted from the waters, roaring loudly as it coiled—climbing higher and higher into the air as its eyes narrowed onto the floating beacon of oppression.

Its gaping maw opened, spewing orange orbs of hellish energy.

Gabriel was not deterred, no…

He was unamused.

He dashed forward, weaving between the attacks—making his way up its armoured flesh two slashes at a time, it's heard drawing near.

It roared in agony as Gabriel tore into the back of its head, the Archangel gracefully rounding its head and summoning a large spear—jamming the blade upwards into its chin and sealing its mouth shut.

It thrashed in vain.

Gabriel landed on its mouth, his swords returned to their sheaths as he looked down at the pulsing mass of flesh trying to breach its own armour.

Gabriel assisted it in its escape, cutting the stone plate with one swipe of a spear.

“Please…” A choir of watery voices wheezed, a humanoid figure clawing its way closer to the divine Archangel. “Let us rest, we beg of you…”

Gabriel stared down at the assumed brain of the Leviathan, had it gained so much mass already? How unfortunate.

“You cannot escape your sins.” Gabriel hissed, his wings splaying to his sides as he slowly rose—his spear holding arm reeling back.

The sullen cried, its arms extending pathetically towards him. “Please… Please! We beg, we plead! Forgive our mista-”

A spear pierced an arm.

It reeled, a guttural scream escaping the lips of the humanoid and serpent below.

Another to its opposite.

Its screams turned to cries.

The legs.

They begged no longer, only whimpering in agony

“In the name of the Father,” One final spear escaped Gabriel's hand, piercing the head of the humanoid.

As its mouth opened to scream.

“I cast you down.”

. . .

Chapter Text

WRATH: THE SHIP OF THE DAMNED

Aching pains shot through her weathered body, the adrenaline that once flooded through her body ran dry amongst the waters she'd once struggled in.

How long had she been out?

A groan escaped her parched lips, eliciting further pain from her nerves.

On instinct, she kicked her legs… then stopped.

Why would she kick her legs?

She could breathe.

Why could she breathe? She hadn't worked for it…

Had she?

Oh, how the thought was bizarre to her. Breathing without struggle, without strife. What luxury, what reward…

For what, though?

What had she done to deserve this peace? Her memory was foggy, any coherent thought swept away by the tides that plagued her mind.

She could still feel the waters.

Oddly enough, the girl didn't feel cold… What was she feeling?

Reaching out, her body cried in discomfort as her muscles twitched and spasmed. She felt like a museum piece left out to the rain.

“Eugh…” The girl groaned, her fingers tightening around… Fabric.

Warmth returned to her dulled senses, she could feel it more clearly now. The coldness of the water dimmed, replaced by the warmth of a thick blanket.

Her hands continued to grip at the fabric, tugging them closer and nestling into them 

She hummed appreciatively, the warmth was much preferred over the soul sucking cold. “Bloody hell…” It was uncomfortable, but the feeling of warm blood circulating through her frozen limbs was necessary.

It made her feel alive.

Something she hadn't felt in a long time.

But the girl was quite the curious mind, and she would only rest so peacefully for a little longer. There were questions that demanded answers, and she was a go-getter.

She tore the covers aside, whimpering as the idle air touched her skin. “Up and at em…” Pushing herself upwards, she propped up her body by her elbows. Groaning again in discomfort as her body fought her every step of the way.

The girl remained like this for a few minutes, every action was a slog.

Her hazel eyes fluttered open, wincing at the soft light of a tableside lantern. She certainly wasn't in the treacherous waters anymore…

The cabin was rather quaint, it was roughly comparable to the servant quarters back at the manor. The contents of the room were simple, a bed, a desk, a bookshelf, and a lantern on said desk.

There was also the door… But she wasn't ready for that yet.

Best to take things one at a time.

She's been too adventurous as of late… at least she thinks so, not the best memory.

The girl freed her legs from what little of the covers remained, allowing her feet to hang loosely over the edge of the mattress. She sat up straight, fidgeting with her hands as she examined herself.

Her dress was… Less than presentable.

Mother would be very angry.

But underneath the rags, bandages wrapped around her body. She must've been quite roughed up from the waters… It wasn't like she was very medically inclined, which was its own can of worms.

Who tended to her wounds?

She slipped out of bed, staggering forward and catching herself on the desk. She gripped the sturdy wood tightly, relying on it to remain upright.

“Absolutely… Wonderful.” She huffed in annoyance.

Her hands found the comfortable chair tucked into the desk, pulling it out with a bit of a struggle. The girl's hazel eyes widened in surprise as she found a set of clothes folded nearly on the seat.

It sure beat the stuffy thing she was wearing.

It took her a few minutes, but it was worth the struggle. She examined herself with what little reflection the lantern offered, despite not being as stunning as her dress used to be…

It was damn comfortable.

The girl was now adorned in a beat up, greyish, long sleeve sweater, and something akin to underwater scavenger pants.

Mother would be VERY angry.

Sure, she looked like a homeless person… But it was surprisingly comfortable despite the condition of the fabric.

She took a seat in the chair, resting her elbows on the table as she looked into the lamplight. Finally, a moment to think. An opportunity she hadn't had in a long, long time.

. . .

A knock on the door awoke her from her slumber, her head lifting from the comfort of her arms. Hazel eyes blinked groggily, her body twisting to face the door.

Must've been the wind…

Another, more impatient knock against the door. Fine, fine. She was up. The girl rose from her seat, taking a few steps to the door and grabbing its handle.

She paused.

What would be on the other side? 

Who would be on the other side?

Did she even want to know?

The answer was obvious.

The door cracked open, her eyes wincing as she was met with an… Unsettling sight.

The bluish skeleton adorned in a divine white cloth stood in front of her door, the crescent of the moon snapping to face her as his grip on his oar tightened.

“Tessa James Elliot?” He asked dryly, the skeleton’s tone even more disdainful than before.

Tessa nodded meekly.

The Ferryman tilted his chin upwards, likely an effort to look down further on the Australian. Tessa imagined a scowl on whatever face was beneath the cloth.

“Consider yourself lucky, sinner.” His grip tightened. “You have been blessed.”

Tessa blinked, opening the door completely. She did her best to not stare, keeping her gaze firmly where the eyes would likely be.

“I… uh, yeah… Thank you…?” She spoke hesitantly, was she thanking him or someone else? Her memory was still a little watered down.

The Ferryman scoffed. “Do not thank me, thank the Lord and his light.” The skeleton figure turned, gesturing for Tessa to follow. “Come now, sinner."

Tessa nodded once more.

Without a word, she followed behind the Ferryman. The skeleton's stride was great, forcing Tessa to get used to walking a lot quicker than she'd like.

Her legs were used to swimming, after all.

It was an odd experience, following behind a blue skeleton, but that wasn't what made it so weird. The absence of other passengers is what unnerved her, this was a boat… Wasn't it?

Sure, Tessa had a few morbid fascinations in life. But she never really read into the afterlife… That's probably why she didn't care too much about the grave robbing.

She still needs to ask about that.

Eventually, they reached their destination. The Ferryman pushed open two large doors, revealing a huge room with ornate design. There was a door on the opposite side, and the middle of the room was lowered with a staircase on each end for easy access.

It was a beautiful dining lounge, filled with a few… People?

Tessa audibly gasped as she laid eyes on the other passengers, a dozen or so heads snapping at the noise. She was frozen on the spot, horror and morbid fascination pumping through her veins.

The Ferryman chuckled, roughly nudging Tessa through the threshold and stepping out of the room. “Do be nice to your fellows, I'm sure you can… Bond, over your sinful ways.” He pulled the doors shut, leaving Tessa alone with the locals of Hell.

The Aussie remained frozen at the door.

Eventually, one of the husks stood up from their stool. It approached, ascending the stairs and stopping a meter or so from the girl.

Tessa's eyes widened.

“I'm not THAT ugly, am I?” A thick Scottish accent cut through the tension, his hands gesturing to himself dramatically.

Tessa blinked.

The man was… Mostly intact, all things considered, but it was clear that some things were missing. Chunks of flesh were absent, visible bone, worn skin, and his body was just… Wrong, in multiple places.

What happened to these people?

Tessa blinked again, blushing slightly in embarrassment as she coughed. It's rude to stare. “Ah, uh… No! Not at all, you sir, look like a… lovely bloke?” She offered half-heartedly.

The man chuckled, flashing the Aussie a—slightly disfigured—friendly smile. “Aren't you just a charmer, lass?” The Scotsman stepped forward, offering his hand to her. “Y’look hungry, care for a bite?” 

Tessa hesitated for a moment, before nodding slowly and accepting his hand.

She winced at the texture.

Their hands evolved into a firm handshake. “The name's Tavish.” Tessa smiled. “Tessa, pleasure to meet ya!”

The Scotsman led the Australian into the lounge, pulling out a chair for her and taking a seat at an opposite chair. He slid over a plate of bread, it was literally just bread.

Tessa looked at the plate, and then at Tavish. “Isn't this your food?” She asked hesitantly, her stomach growling audibly.

The husk shook his head. “We don't actually need to eat down here… It's just a habit.” He gestured to himself, emphasizing the abnormalities.

That was all Tessa needed to hear.

The Australian devoured the bread slices mercilessly, throwing all mannerisms aside as she gorged herself on the sustenance.

How many times would she have pissed her mother off at this point?

She pushed the plate towards him, not even a bread crumb. In her hunger, Tessa hadn't even left evidence of bread being on the plate to begin with.

Tavish grinned.

“Swimming’s quite intensive, eh?” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

Tessa nodded.

“... Has everyone been through that?” She asked curiously, stealing a glance at the others.

He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. “Oh? We've all taken a swim, that's for true.” Tavish looked at the others for a few moments, before circling back around.

“That's where the few similarities end.” He leaned forward abruptly, resting his arms on the table. “I'm bound to bother you about it, I ought to do it now.”

His gaze intensified, soulless eyes burning into her lively hazels.

“How did you bite the bullet?”

Tessa's breath hitched.

. . .

How did she die?

She thought deeply.

Tessa wanted to know.

She needed to know.

The static returned.

It was unbearable.

Tessa winced at the stinging pain.

Why couldn't she remember?

She missed that therapist.

. . .

A firm hand on her shoulder shook her out of her inner turmoil. Tavish offered an apologetic smile, sitting back in the chair. “No need, lass. You're much too young to think about it anyway.” 

Tessa nodded in appreciation, sitting back as she crossed her arms over her chest protectively.

“Y'know… I died to a gutterman, probably looking like Swiss cheese in the grave…”

Tessa cocked an eyebrow. What's a gutter man? “You died to a… A what?” She suppressed a snicker, did he end up in hell because a guy who installed gutters got him?

It was Tavish’s turn to be confused, his head tilted to the side curiously. “A gutterman, the walking caskets with bloody big guns?”

Well, that's certainly a bizarre thing to hear. She gets it, being locked in her house 24/7 wasn't good for learning things but… SURELY she'd have even the slightest memory to something like that?

“I've… Never heard of those before.” She admitted, oblivious to the heads turning to listen in on their conversation.

Tavish hummed. “That's a new one… Where ya from, kid?”

“'Land down under, wasn't that obvious?” She responded cheekily.

The interest of the Scotsman grew. “Right… What city?” 

Tessa shrugged. “Lived in a mansion my entire life, wish I knew.” Her voice accurately portrayed her disdain for the confinement.

Silence fell throughout the dining lounge, all eyes and ears were now fixed on Tessa. She certainly was an oddity. Perfect body, oblivious to common knowledge and raised in a mansion?

A feminine voice piped up. “Who's your father, love?” 

Tessa turned to face the husk. “James Elliot…?”

“What's he do for a living?”The voice continued.

“Business, lots of that rubbish… JcJenson is one of the big ones.” 

More questions poured in, every voice making themselves known.

“Got a favourite food?”

“What colour’s the sky?

“How many siblings do you got?”

“Ever ate a rat?”

“Thoughts on the machines?”

Tessa visibly lit up on that last one, how could she forget her friends? The thought of them made her strangely sick for some reason.

“Machines? Oh sure! I got a few drones back home!” She smiled warmly. “They're servants for the manor, but they're real lovely! J’s a bit bossy, V’s a little shy and N’s a little… Bloody hell, he's a lot of fun!”

Her words fell on puzzled ears.

Tavish spoke up, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Tessa, could ya describe ‘em for us?” He smiled awkwardly.

She obliged. “They're all worker drones, different models but workers nonetheless! I got them wigs too—” She paused, her heart skipping a beat. “ETHICALLY!”

The Scotsman leaned forward, his smile diminishing as a genuine look of concern crossed his face.

“I'm going to ask you a simple question, lass.” 

He dug into his pockets, producing a small notebook and a pencil. He slid them across the table to her.

“Draw us a wee sketch of a… Worker drone, and tell me…”

“Does the name Earthmover mean anything to you?”

. . .

Tessa slid the notebook back over to him, keeping the pencil as she fiddled with it. Tavish and the other husks were huddled on the other side of the table, looking over her sketch.

The Australian hadn't a clue about anything they'd asked her, nothing rang any particular bells. Earthmovers, the New Peace, an endless war… None of it made sense to her.

This confusion was mirrored to the Husks. Worker drones, JcJenson, high society… It was something so foreign to them.

“Never seen it before.” Tavish admitted as he slid the notebook back over to Tessa, grimacing as their eyes locked. “Not from around here, are ya?” 

Tessa shrugged wearily, feeling the air in the room slowly shift to something uncomfortable. “Apparently not…” She muttered, taking the notebook and sketching a few more doodles to calm herself down.

Tavish opened his mouth to speak—

Faint footsteps could be heard approaching from one of the doors, and the Husks scattered. They returned to their tables, acting as if nothing had been happening.

Tavish leaned over the table, shoving the notebook and pencil into Tessa’s lap. “Keep ‘em, you need it more than me.” He hissed, before standing up and finding another empty table to occupy.

Tessa nodded awkward, confused out of her mind, but trusting the Scotsman. She slid the newly acquired items into her pockets, standing up as the doors pushed open.

“You've had your fill, Tessa.” The Ferryman called, his presence filling the room as his voice boomed. The Husks froze.

She stood up slowly, bidding the husks a subtle wave before ascending the stairs and standing before the blue skeleton.

He gestured for Tessa to step out of the room, and she obliged.

The doors shut behind them as the Ferryman guided Tessa back to her cabin.

“Did you figure anything out?” His voice cut through the empty corridors.

Tessa tilted her head curiously. “What is there to find out…?” She asked hesitantly. Did the skeleton expect her to do anything other than eat? Was this a test?

The Ferryman scowled. “Nothing… It is beyond you, sinner.”

He stopped abruptly, pushing open a door to reveal the familiar cabin. A rough nudge forced the Australian through the threshold. The door slammed shut right after, leaving Tessa to her own devices once more.

Tessa huffed, rubbing her back as she scanned the humble cabin… She didn't like to admit it, but she was glad to be alone.

She sat down at the desk, pulling out the notebook and began to sketch away.

. . .

The Ferryman ascended a grand staircase, emerging from the decks below to the raging storms of the surface. He walked purposely, his stride unmatched as he approached the foredeck of his ferry.

He stopped in the middle of the wooden platform, placing his oar aside before getting down on both knees.

His gaze turned upwards, witnessing the clouds part as golden light shone through the cracks. The Ferryman bowed, his head touching to the ground as the warmth of the light embraced his weathered body.

Soon, he would bathe in it eternally.

“What news do you bring, Ferryman?” An angelic voice rang through the calm seas, a blue glow emanating off of the divine being.

The Ferryman risked it, looking up from his submissive position to gaze at the beauty of the Archangel. “Oh Gabriel… Your presumptions are correct as always.”

He rasped, his tone filled with adoration and desire.

Gabriel nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at the simp devoted follower of the Lord. “Then it is time to see the true colours of this… Enigma.”

. . .

Chapter Text

WRATH: THE SHIP OF THE DAMNED

The lantern bathed the room in a warm embrace, illuminating the sleeping figure it rested beside.

There laid Tessa James Elliot, the sole daughter of the prestigious family, the heir to a massive company, and an adventurous grave robbing young lady, in a deep slumber.

She was currently drooling on her notebook.

Very deserving, mind you. Ignoring the minor coma she was in prior, this was the first time she's properly slept since arriving in the watery wasteland.

The boat doesn't count, that was more like… A power nap?

Anyways, here she was, drooling on her notebook. She'd taken the newfound liberty to pass the time by doodling, and she was quite good at it too… If you actually knew what a drone looked like.

Tessa slowly stirred awake, the gentle motions of the boat coaxing her back to sleep more times than not. It was truly a struggle, wearing warm—mildly uncomfortable—clothing and having a lamp right next to you.

Quite the downgrade compared to her normal situation… Oh, she missed home so.

Her breathing had improved too. She could consistently inhale and exhale, as opposed to her grueling experience beneath the waves. Tanned skin had become more healthy, actually feeling like her skin and NOT being weirdly rubbery!

Tessa's head rested in her arms, said appendages folding overtop her book. If any of her friends saw her like this, they'd assume she'd been up all night working.

Ignoring the streak of drool, the exposed pages were relatively spared. She had doodled over at least three pages, the forth a chaotic mess of notes and unanswered questions.

She was… Confused, for the most part. It was clear she was in Hell, and that Heaven was a real place—angels, even.

The Aussie was in the land underneath the land down under. As it turns out, Hell was VERY different compared to how mainstream media portrays it. She was in one of its layers, Wrath, that consisted of an endless sea that hosted the Ferryman… And anyone who couldn't pay the toll swam in the waters below.

It was kinda metal, she wouldn't lie to herself.

Moving on, Tessa is very clearly surrounded by old people. Incredibly old people… How could you NOT know about drones? Or even like… Basic brands or technology?

She hadn't been able to name any negatives about the notebook, but one immensely helpful thing was its previous owner. Like the like-minded soul the Scotsman is, he had included his own notes and thoughts… Even a poem!

But seriously, what the hell IS an Earthmover? The first thought was always some sort of construction vehicle, but she could tell the way they spoke about it that it was FAR from a vehicle.

Apparently these people… Lived on them? From what Tessa could gather, they had this symbiotic relationship? The Earthmover had a mind, it was more than… Whatever it was.

It's name is so fucking cool.

It's weird, honestly. How come she couldn't even imagine what this thing looked like? How come she couldn't imagine anything?

Guttermen, wars, Earthmovers, weird drones…

It shared a name with a worker drone, but it also wasn't a worker? It was a security drone, which Tessa thought was even weirder.

Admittedly, she was very isolated from the world… But she knew the world of robotics quite well. Anything JcJenson did? She knew. Whether it be from eavesdropping her parents, the news or J’s own journalism…

Tessa would know.

So how did she not know what a security drone was? The thought drove her insane, does J know? Does J THINK Tessa knew?

. . .

You speak as if they are still with you.

They are not.

You are alone.

You are here now.

You are home.

You intrigue me.

. . .

Tessa groaned as an irritating noise cut through the fog of her unconsciousness. Her breath quickened as she sat up.

She looked around groggily.

Everything looked just as she'd left it. The bed was a mess, the walls were wooden and the door closed shut. Just how she liked it… For the time being, really ought to make her bed.

Satisfied with her messy living conditions, she stood up with a dramatic stretch. She yawned freely, her arms outstretched as joints cracked pleasurably.

Tessa trudged over to her bed, collapsing into the pigsty. It didn't take more than a few seconds before she was out like a light.

Of course, she wouldn't be getting that experience. No rest for the wicked!

That irritating, sharp noise cut through the room. Three times, louder and harder than before. Bloody hell… Couldn't it just shut up?

The Australian rose to her feet again, rubbing her eyes groggily. She examined her room more intensely, finding no source to the agitation.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Tessa's eyes snapped to the door. Drowsiness escaped her as she stumbled back, her calves pressing against the wooden bedframe.

Oh shit.

She looked around quickly, taking measured steps and tidying up quickly.

She shoved the notebook under her pillow.

Smoothing out her clothes, Tessa gripped the door knob tightly. Her eyes squeezed shut momentarily, a deep breath escaping her lips.

Alright, she can deal with the skeletal prick again.

Knock.

Knock.

The door swung open, and Tessa crossed her arms expectantly. “I'm up, I'm up!” She muttered. Her accent thick with irritation.

. . .

Her eyes opened a moment after.

They widened.

She stumbled onto her ass.

“Remove that tone, and rise.” The voice demanded. Its power is apparent from tone alone. It carried through the air with a silent energy, reverberating divinely.

Gabriel.

This certainly wasn't expected. Where the hell was the blue bitch? She was so screwed, giving attitude to an angel.

An Archangel?

It just gets worse and worse for her… Doesn't it? What's next, is she going to be in the presence of God, perhaps? Oh, maybe the Devil? Satan? Lucifer?

Actually… Who ran this shit hole?

The Archangel stepped into the room, studying the small cabin intensely.

Tessa crawled back, her back bumping against the bookshelf and sending an avalanche of books upon her.

The Aussie swore freely as she clutched her head, tucking her knees tight to her chest as a plethora of emotions flooded her.

Pain…

Embarrassment…

Fear…

Footsteps drew near, and the Angel stopped. Tessa slowly opened her eyes, looking up at the divine warrior.

Gabriel stood at her feet, towering over her slumped figure effortlessly. His armour was pristine, radiating an energy of perfection and purity. His wings were nowhere to be found, but his halo remained. The hardlight only further illuminated the room.

They remained like this.

The mortal looked up at the divine and the divine looked down upon the mortal.

As it should be.

Gabriel broke the silence. “Tessa James Elliot, was it?” He outstretched a hand, offering to assist the Australian to her feet.

She looked at it, then him, and then remained.

Two, godforsaken minutes of awkward silence ensued. Tessa was lost in her thoughts… Gabriel was taking it surprisingly well.

He is an Archangel, a son of God. What cowered beneath him was a mere mortal… It was beneath him. Physically and literally. It was a child.

Gabriel could be patient.

Eventually, the Australian relented. A warm, trembling hand found its way into the armoured gauntlets of Heaven. Tessa was shaking, but brave.

She smiled hesitantly, her eyes meeting him for a moment before flickering elsewhere. “J-just Tessa will do, really…!” She sputtered.

Tessa yelped as she was pulled upright, the armoured gauntlet tightening around her much, much smaller hand. “Do you recall my name, Child?" He asked calmly, crouching down to be at her eye level.

Wow… Patronizing much?

His question was met with a slow nod. “Gabriel… Right…?” She answered hesitantly.

Her response was answered with a nod. “Good, for we have much to discuss.” Gabriel released her hand, folding his hands nearly behind his back as he turned around. “Follow, and stray not too far.”

And just like that, he walked out of the room.

Tessa's eyes widened in surprise, before she sprung into action. Lunging for her bed, she pocketed the notebook before rushing after the Archangel.

She caught up quickly.

Falling into step beside the Angel, she remained deathly silent. Her hands remained tight to her sides. Nervousness and anticipation gnawed at her. Where were they going?

“What troubles you, my Child?” Gabriel spoke softly, his tone reverberating with undoubted power.

Tessa eyed the Archangel hesitantly. “It's nothing… Honest!” She replied, not very confidently.

Gabriel shook his head. “Lying will not lessen your fear.” Tessa frowned.

The two moved through the ship with few words spoken. Not a husk was seen, nor a sound heard. Tessa reckoned the Ferryman had confined them all to quarters… Likely due to Gabriel being here.

What was their relationship?

No time to ponder on the thought, for the storms of Wrath already rained down upon her.

Tessa stood on the open expanse of the top deck, looking up at the downpour above with weary eyes. The Archangel stood beside her, gazing up to the clouds with a separate intent. Silence befell the two, not a word shared between them as the rain continued to fall.

. . .

Gabriel was not like his brothers.

He was not patient, like Phanuel.

He wasn't the wisest, like Michael.

He wasn't the strongest, like Raphael.

Gabriel was himself, for he was God's will.

And what was that telling him?

Not much, at the moment. He was mildly regretting his decision to watch over the Ferryman, especially in these… Unfortunate times.

Heaven was undergoing some sort of upheaval, the absence of the Lord rocking the kingdom to its very core. While they bickered and debated above, Gabriel knew there was work to be done.

Perhaps he was just testing them? The Father would certainly return soon… Unless they were failing him?

Gabriel continued to work, because that is God's will. His order will not be shaken, his law is Gabriel's to uphold.

And that brought him here.

To the bow of a ship, swaying softly in a sullen sea of souls. The Ferryman had nearly died, Hell was even more a shit hole than usual… And this little thing was still here.

Tessa James Elliot.

A girl presumably raised under the Australian sun, yet her mannerisms were as polite as a virtue. She hadn't a clue where she was, why she was there and apparently unaware of anything occurring on Earth. Perhaps it was trauma? Likely, a little girl dying so soon would develop something akin to that.

But the enigma continued. The mind may be scarred, but her body was not. Her husk appeared as lively as any other human, her hair flowing in the harsh winds of Wrath, her hazel eyes still ablaze with emotion.

This was not normal, not at all. Few managed to retain most human-like characteristics, fewer kept any.

How does this child have the same will and standing as the likes of Minos and Sisyphus?

. . .

“Tell me, little one.” Gabriel broke the silence. “What acts have you committed against the Lord?”

Tessa turned her head to look at him slowly. She scratched the back of her neck nervously, her voice coming out hesitantly. “I… Err… Grave robbing?”

The Archangel crossed his arms over his chest. “A heinous crime indeed… Is that all?” That wasn't an answer he expected to hear from a little girl.

She cocked an eye. “... Yeah?”

Gabriel nodded. “Describe yourself to me, you're upbringing.” He ordered, his voice smooth and calming.

Tessa shot the Archangel a hesitant thumbs up. “Well… I was born and raised in a big manor surrounded by a forest. Uhhh… Not many people, unless you consider old businessmen as people.” She grinned… That melted under the cold gaze of Gabriel. The Aussie cleared her throat, listing off things with her fingers.

“Basically a tool for my parents.”

“Absolutely isolated, barely met a person my age.”

“I made my own friends, is that bad?”

“Oh, also grave robbed… Like a dozen or so times.”

“I taught myself to shoot a gun!”

“I don't know how to drive.”

“Extremely rich, like…”

“HORRIBLE PARENTS.”

“I know my way around a motherboard!”

The words blurred together as Gabriel's patience began to melt with every syllable spoken by the Australian. He couldn't blame her, but this was just…

How is this supposed to make sense?

Gabriel hadn't ever recounted a human life so mundane in ages, the girl before him spoke like nothing was happening on Earth.

“Enough.” The Archangel snapped. Tessa's jaw locked, her words dropping dead on her tongue. She winced at his tone, physically shying away from him.

Gabriel stepped forward, his arms leaving his chest as he towered over the trembling Australian. “This game will continue no longer, sinner.” His wings appeared, bathing Tessa in angelic light.

Tessa shrunk, looking up at the imposing figure in fear.

Sternly, he asked a simple question. “What are you?” 

The Australian's eyes narrowed, a puzzled look overwriting her intimidated expression. “I'm… Tessa?” She stated hesitantly.

Gabriel did not accept that answer.

Tessa continued, “I'm from Earth, I lived a short, confusing life? I… Uh… I'm human?”

Gabriel exhaled.

Tessa leaned back further.

“It seems that even you are as lost as I.” The Archangel spoke, stepping back and allowing the girl some breathing space. “I…” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Apologize.” The word was clearly forced through a thick layer of pride.

Tessa nodded awkwardly… Was that really deserving of an apology? Well, she was more thankful for his admittance. 

So maybe she wasn't meant to be in Hell?

Gabriel's gaze lifted, looking over Tessa as footsteps accompanied an approaching figure.

“We shall be docking soon, my Angel.” The Ferryman greeted as he stopped a few feet behind Tessa, kneeling for the Archangel.

Tessa shuffled awkwardly to the side. She could feel the weird vibe the skeleton emitted.

Simp.

“Very well.” Gabriel acknowledged his presence, his voice remaining calm and divine. “See her return back to her quarters.”

Ferryman nodded, rising to his feet and stepping towards Tessa, who was already approaching the skeleton. “No need to drag me this time.” She declared, her voice dry. Not her best attempt at humour.

She just didn't like the guy.

The skeletal figure did not acknowledge her presence at his side. “Will that be all?” He rasped, and Gabriel nodded.

Bowing his head once more, the Ferryman nudged Tessa back as he guided her towards the entrance to the lower levels.

Tessa sheepishly waved goodbye to Gabriel.

His arms remained crossed.

. . .

Gabriel soared through the air like a shooting star. The winds of Wrath affected him not, for he had purpose.

His expedition to the Ferryman had yielded little results. Tessa's past was mundane, grey and likely had no impact on the world…

The world she described was unlike the Earth he'd witnessed, not even in the time before the Final War had he ever seen such a thing.

The high societal era nearly four hundred years ago? Perhaps, but technology hadn't reached such a high as she described.

He left the ship with more questions than answers.

And unfortunately, he knew where to find more.

The clouds parted before him, the skies opening up as he ascended. Gabriel called upon the power that gave him, and many others, life.

The Light.

The Father's light, to be specific. Despite the absence of God, his light remained. Thus, his children as well.

Warm light embraced him as a pillar of golden light slammed down from the Heavens—and the Archangel disappeared from the layer of Wrath.

. . .

Limbo

Lust

Gluttony

Greed

Wrath

Heresy

Violence

Fraud

Treachery

Each layer of Hell served a purpose. Every layer is home to souls of a certain sin.

Limbo, its inhabitants guilty of nothing in particular, but died without knowing the word of God.

Lust, reserved for those who desired sexual activity above all else. Heavy winds carried throughout the layer, giving its souls no comfort or rest.

Gluttony, overindulgence of excess material like food and drinks. An eternity of the damned slowly digested alive in stomach acid.

Greed, where the hoarders of wealth and riches went. An endless desert of gold dust, an eternal punishment of carrying the weight of their hubris up humanity's own monuments.

Wrath, a life defined by anger and sufferance. Damned to an eternity of struggle over air in an endless river turned ocean.

Heresy, the belief in false gods. Soaked in boiling blood, or burning alive in an iron coffin… Any fate is deserving in the eyes of Heaven.

Violence, any acts against another, themself, or God and nature itself. This layer houses a diverse roster of punishment, whether that be fighting an eternal war without reason, boiling alive in the river Phlegethon, or to wander endlessly in a garden of forking paths.

Fraud, deceit and manipulation brings a soul here. Their punishment is what they bestowed upon others, a layer of illusions and confusions.

Treachery, a frozen wasteland representing the cold hearted nature of betrayal, the opposite of love and warmth. The sinners of this layer are frozen shoulders down, but most aren't given the comfort of a neck.

Of all these punishments, sins and places to suffer eternally… Are some even deserving?

Once, a man sat upon a throne. A cog in the machine long before the machines of today were made. He was the Judge, sentencing sinners to their fate and sending them off to the river Styx to be ferried off.

He was wise, he was intelligent. He was a king. A man so successful, he was given divine purpose.

The King of Crete became the Judge of Hell.

And when God disappeared, leaving Heaven and Hell to their devices… The eyes that watched over the king were gone, and his thoughts could become reality.

Dangerous thoughts, yet the king deemed them necessary. In a time of chaos and confusion, a place of torture and punishment could become a home.

After all, could you really consider the act of loving another an act deserving of eternal punishment?

Minos thought not.

. . .

Chapter Text

HELL: THE LAYER OF LUST

An alarm beeped incessantly, the analog clock vibrating atop its wooden nightstand. Light poured into the small apartment through the tall window, illuminating the face of the sleeping husk.

He groaned, rolling onto his side.

The alarm continued to beep.

He conceded.

Rolling onto his side, the husk lazily slapped at the nightstand. A few swipes later, the alarm fell silent.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes groggily. He didn't have eyes, but his eyelids were still there… Good enough. Slipping out of bed, the husk took the few paces required to his sink and poured himself a nice glass of water.

The husk leaned against the counter, taking the occasional sip. His eyes drifted to the small portrait on his wall, just above his bed.

His hero, King Minos.

He smiled, downing the water and setting the glass aside—he’d wash those later. He had to get to work.

The husk couldn't let him down, his King and savour deserved that much.

He moved to his dresser, fetching his clothes and preparing himself for the long day ahead. Thoughts echoed through his mind as he slipped into the routine.

Today was quite the big day, for the city of Lust and their King. Today, the largest powerplant would be opened, and King Minos himself would be there to turn it on!

If only he could be there to see it…

He'll watch the news when he gets home, no sense in feeling jealous. He has a job people would KILL for.

The janitor of King Minos’ throne room!

The ROYAL janitor!

He could actually have a conversation with the king if he wasn't busy—which wasn't often!

The Husk smiled to himself, enjoying the warm feeling within his chest. Like many others, he adores the King.

Fully dressed, the husk stood in front of the mirror attached to his door and smiled. Adjusting the cloth of his uniform, he pinned a name tag above his right breast.

“Hank”

With his morning preparations complete, he bid his portrait of Minos goodbye and exited his apartment. Stepping out into the rooftop neighborhood, his eyes were filled with bisexual pink, purple and blue lighting.

Hank made his way through the neighborhood, walking along the footpaths towards his destination, the monorail.

Gardens of beautiful flowers, stunning architecture and more passed him as he walked. He was a very lucky husk. Lust was the only layer to actually defy Heaven and go against their punishment… Except for Heresy.

He wouldn't want to live under Sisyphus.

Anyways, more important things to focus on! Hank flooded into the monorail like everyone else around him, riding the train until his station. This feeling, being shoulder to shoulder with other people heading off to work… It made him feel like he was alive again.

God, he LOVED society.

It took only a few minutes, Lust was a relatively medium-sized city, and it did help that he was going towards the center.

He exited the train, moving through the station with some prep in his step. He pushed past the doors leading onto the ground level, smiling as he gazed up at the towering skyscrapers.

He was very proud of his people.

Street cars were the only thing that occupied the roads, powered directly by overhead cables. Giving sidewalks more priority and allowing for even livelier streets. Hank enjoyed walking downtown, the storefronts were always so…

Lustful…? They varied heavily.

A cornerstone could be a cute cafe, themed around Valentine's Day and dogs. The door over could be a store that sold only pornographic material. The range of sinners varied from passionate to… Well, lustful.

Those that were too freaky though? They stayed outside the energy shields. They can get freaky with the winds.

Eventually, the palace was upon him. Hank scaled the many steps, and walked through the grand entrance. It truly was a sight to behold. The palace had once been a place of misery, being the court where the King sentenced sinners to their punishments.

But now, it was a place of hope.

Hank continued his daily routine, passing through large halls and corridors to reach the workroom. He bid the feminine husk at the receptionist desk a hello.

Setting his lunch bag down, he made his way to a closet and wheeled off his cart… Back through the long corridors.

A soft hum escaped his lips as he hummed an old melody, tapping the handlebar intune. It's the simple things in the afterlife that keep a husk sane…

He turned the corner, and was met with a beautiful carved, ornate hallway. At the end was a thick, wooden door that was guarded by two large husks… and I mean LARGE.

Greater husks, personally rescued by Minos himself from Greed.

Hank waved to them as they opened the doors for him, allowing him entry and closing the doors behind him as he entered.

There, in all his majestic glory…

King Minos of the layer of Lust.

The husk bowed his head to the elder as he entered, the man responding with his own slow nod. The King was busy, a few lesser husks surrounding him with stacks of papers and images.

Hank found his own little corner of the throne room, and began to clean.

. . .

The morning period came and went, the lights of the city shifting to simulate a rising sun. The city was alive with excitement, many had taken work off to attend the event.

Lust was certainly an oddity compared to the other layers, besides hosting one of only two cities within Hell, it had an actually functioning society. A standard of time had been created, restoring a 24h clock and the similar 12 month calendar.

It had no impact, really. There were no seasons, and it was always the same lighting. But it was a sense of order and familiarity that kept the residents sane.

Water came from the Ocean Styx, being treated by a few module water plants. Food was… If you just ignored where it came from, it tasted surprisingly good. It's honestly a good thing you didn't really require sustenance down here.

For those who felt insatiable hunger, it wasn’t real.

The alcohol however, was actually made down here. Who knew Greed actually had grapes down there?

The city was ever growing, with its reach spanning layers beneath its native home. Unfortunately, it's much harder to go up, then it is down.

Limbo was still unreachable.

They deserved the liberation that the lustful had been given, for their unknowing crime didn't deserve such a fate.

Pen met paper as the final document for the day has been signed, a little request for more streetlights in the frontier.

Minos sighed softly as his advisors took the stacks of papers away, giving the King time to prepare for his upcoming event. A speech, a declaration and an interview.

The King thought to himself as he sat on his throne.

“Your Majesty?” A voice called from the open doors of the throne room, one of his advisors. “The people are waiting.” 

Has it been so long already? Minos thought to himself, slowly nodding as he rose. “Very well.” Descending from his throne, he exited his throne room.

His entourage followed, his two greater husks flanking him as a handful of soldiers, advisors and ministers followed. The grand doors to the palace opened, and Minos was blinded.

Cameras flashed, people cheered, and the masses parted.

The King descended the many, many steps of his palace, reaching street level soon after. Despite the pleas of his security, Minos refused a personal transport. He was a servant to the people, and he would walk amongst them.

The crowds followed him as he made his way through the city centre, stopping briefly at his most treasured storefronts and attractions. Minos was quite fond of the museum, and even the laboratory for agricultural recovery.

Did you know that some machines still had dirt on them? From Earth? A few machines still remained from the original Hell expeditions, and they had been captured… Some repurposed for construction uses.

Seeds of grass and wheat had been recovered, and were housed within the laboratory.

Eventually, the King arrived at the steps of the major powerplant. The facility’s overseer was there to greet him.

The feminine husk bowed her head in respect to her savour, speaking without meeting his gaze. “Good evening, my King.” 

Minos smiled, nodding his head and returning the respect. “Greetings, my child. Is all as it should be?” The King beckoned the girl to rise.

She did as requested. “Yes, shall we begin the ceremony?” 

The King nodded.

The overseer stepped aside and gestured to a podium that was being set up at the top of the steps.

“We'll begin preparations immediately, your Highness. I will bring you a button to turn on the generator during your speech.”

Minos smiled. “People such as thee alloweth our city to flourish, for this, thou have mine gratitude.” He bowed his head in gratitude, mirroring the husk.

The overseer entered the building, and the King took his place at the podium overlooking the crowds of cheering citizens of his kingdom. His security and advisors flanked him.

Minos cleared his throat, pushing aside a microphone and raising his hand to silence the crowds.

Suspense filled the air as the crowd's cheers turned diminished.

“Mine children, how far we have come... Look amongst one another, and rejoice. For the Heavens crush thy spirit no longer. Nay, for they hath forgotten us.” The King declared, his tone calm yet uplifting. Minos was proud of his people, and he would rather perish than let them fall into despair.

“But I have not, nor ever shall I. Our spirits together have raised us from ruin, and now we dwell amongst each other in concord, and in ease.” The crowd cheered, applause erupting from the mass of people. Minos entertained it for a few moments, before raising his hand to silence them.

“But now is not the hour for remembrance, nay. This is a season of revelry. My children, thy toil and vigour hath brought us far…” 

The overseer returned with a big smile on her face, holding up a remote to one of Minos’ guards.

The large husk studied it, and stepped aside. Allowing the overseer to stand behind the King and hand him the device. Minos muttered a silent gratitude before speaking to the people once more.

“And with the grace of mine hand, we shall flourish onwards!” The King raised the remote behind him, smiling softly as his voice boomed throughout the city streets.

“Let there be light!”

. . .

Music echoed through the throne room, the only inhabitant within its ornate walls working without a care in the world.

Hank was absolutely jamming out right now.

He was wearing headphones, his volume cranked to the max.

The throne room was pristine, not a speck of dirt or dust in sight. The Royal Janitor prided himself on his work, and now came his favourite part.

The throne itself.

Hank approached it with an air of reverence, rolling his trolley along and carrying it up the steps. Muttering a compliment to the design, the husk began to clean.

Each splash of soapy water, each stroke of the sponge… Hank was in pure ecstasy. 

Nothing could possibly ruin this moment…

.

.

.

.

.

Hank's eyes widened as the wall in front of him was bathed in a golden glow, wind slammed into his back and sent him stumbling against the throne.

He sighed as he caught himself on the beautifully carved stone, and winced as his cleaning supplies went everywhere.

“Where is he?” A voice demanded from behind him, so perfectly audible despite the music blasting in his ears… How loud was this guy?

Hank ripped his headphones off, tossing them aside in a fit of rage as he spun to face the intruder. “Who do you think you are-” 

His words died in his throat.

“Where is Minos?” The angel demanded, his annoyance clearly rising at the lack of response.

It was Gabriel fucking Ultrakill.

Hank could only raise his shaking hand and point past the Archangel to the doors behind him.

The literal embodiment of Lust's fear could only scowl at the nonverbal response. Turning his back to the janitor, Gabriel's wings disappeared as his feet touched the floor.

The Archangel promptly exited the throne room.

. . .

Gabriel's mood continued to sour as he moved through the palace, this wasn't right. Minos’ palace wasn't ever this intricate, or clean, or well lit.

He NEVER had a janitor!

So what changed?

What was going on here?

Golden accents flared in his blue halo, but dimmed quickly. The Archangel continued his march towards the palace doors, his wings hidden from view.

He passed more husks, more employees, more… secretaries? That was more reasonable.

Gabriel stride faltered as a slow stampede of footsteps approached from around a corner. For whatever reason, the hand of the Father decided to be… Non-confrontational today.

The Archangel leaned against the corner, hidden from view as he listened to the group of sinners entering the nearby room that housed a myriad of statues.

“And here, children, we have some of the first gifts the King received from his newly found subjects.” A murmur of awe and excitement echoed throughout the vast hall. Footsteps burst out without order, lightly treading husks dispersing to view the miniature museum.

Gabriel remained still, listening to the conversations and questions thrown around in the room.

It was clear this wasn't just any museum tour.

No, it was much, much worse.

It was a field trip for children.

His thoughts immediately went to something perverse, the people of this layer were anything but normal. The simple act of reproduction was twisted, love turning to lust and desire without any room for God.

But Gabriel’s mind sharpened, and a sickening truth made itself clear to him.

The influx of souls into Heaven had seized in the chaos of his departure.

Where were they meant to go?

There was no soul more pure than that of a child, even in a world of war.

The Archangel silently commended the Judge of Hell. Perhaps this explained why his palace was filled with more husks than before. Minos safeguarded the innocent from the wretched sinners that they found themselves surrounded by…

This oversight by Heaven would be corrected, Gabriel would make sure of it himself.

Solidifying his will, Gabriel pushed off the wall and rounded the corner.

Much to the delight of the teacher.

Her clipboard clattered to the floor as she saw him first. Whatever conversation she was having with the tiny husk in front of her died the moment she laid eyes on the Archangel.

A dozen or so gazes fell onto the teacher, and then they followed her horrified gaze to him.

Gabriel approached with the grace of a benevolent being. “Be not afraid.” He spoke softly, his hands held behind his back.

The teacher snapped out of her trance, quickly and frantically pulling the child behind her. “Y-your an angel-” She stuttered.

The Archangel stopped before her, staring down at her.

The husk stared back in fear.

His gaze shifted.

Kneeling down, Gabriel offered his hand to the trembling husk behind her. “For you having nothing to fear. Not within my presence.” 

Peeking out from behind the larger woman, the child stared back at the Archangel.

It pained Gabriel.

The husk was deformed, its will so weak it was a miracle it even formed. The same could be said for the other children, yet their existence continued on into the afterlife.

Hesitantly, it placed its hand within the hand of the Father.

Said righteous hand of the Father squeezed the husk’s hand lightly, before letting go.

Rising to his full height, the Archangel looked to the statues. Then, his gaze returned to the older husk.

“I seek Minos, we have very important matters to discuss. Pray tell, where may I find him?” He questioned ever so politely, his tone firm yet soft.

The woman was sweating bullets, but managed an adequate response. “The King is attending an event in the first industrial sector… Should be south of here.” She replied meekly.

Gabriel withheld any further questions.

“I see.” Gabriel replied through tight lips. An orange hue creeping along the edges of his intricate halo.

The Archangel spoke no further as he moved past them, leaving the room in absolute silence.

He pushed through more rooms, encountering more husks at varying volumes—thankfully no more children. He couldn't bear to see the injustice.

Gabriel entered a large hall, white light flooding into the windows and adorning the room in a purplish hue. Greek pillars held the ceiling, bordering the walls.

“The Judgement Hall…” Gabriel muttered to himself, which prompted his unknown audience of one to gasp.

His head snapped to the left, which revealed a large front desk.

There sat a man, covered in the contents of his mug. Scared shitless. Poor thing…

The Archangel simply moved forward and past the desk, walking through the grand hall without fear.

His hands outstretched as they met heavy stone, pushing the massive doors apart to reveal…

The City of Lust

Bisexual lighting blinded Gabriel as he reeled back, covering his face with a hand. It fell just as quickly as it rose.

Gabriel stared out at the city before him, gazing at it without releasing even a snort of disapproval. What was he feeling?

Disgust.

Horror.

… Confusion?

It hadn't been that long since Gabriel last visited the Judge of Hell… By angelic standards of course. 

How in God's name had all of this spring up? Did Minos truly have the gaul? The audacity?

. . .

Anger.

How dare he.

Who does he think he is?

To think himself above God?

Above his actions?

Minos would be punished.

No, he would be destroyed.

This could not stand.

Lust will become an example.

None shall EVER doubt the Light.

None shall EVER stray.

None shall EVER defy.

This heresy will be ended.

Here.

And.

NOW-

. . .

Gabriel's inner monologue was interrupted with a flash and shutter. His head snapped down from the looming sky. A crowd of husks had formed at the foot of the palace steps, and one of them had decided to… Take a photo?

No flash photography!

The Archangel's hand clenched in anger, a spear of light forming within his grasp and in one fluid movement—hurled that shit directly at the reporter.

The husk narrowly evaded, escaping an Angel’s wrath with a horrific wound.

His camera was not so fortunate to escape divine judgement.

Gabriel stepped forward, his halo an intricate mix of blue and gold froze over as the divine blue swallowed the graceful gold.

“You dare!?” Gabriel declared. His voice echoed throughout the layer, reverberating with angelic power and displaying his anger perfectly. Wings splayed from his back as his light covered the crowds of sinners in a brilliant display of divinity.

The masses hushed as they huddled together. The older ones lowered themselves to the floor, bowing in reverence to the Archangel.

The younger stood, a mix of defiance and confusion.

And the eldest of them all was currently returning to the palace in great haste.

The scornful Archangel stared over the crowds, crossing his arms over his chest as his mere presence inspired fear and faith alike.

Gabriel was getting sick of all these surprises.

. . .

What to do…

What to do indeed.

Gabriel knew he had the right to do what needed to be done.

To slaughter the masses and restore order to Lust.

He had every right.

He was the Righteous Hand of the Father.

The Will of God.

Yet…

Gabriel needed Minos.

Not in any lustful or… Sacrilegious sense of the word.

No…

Minos was a key piece to his little puzzle.

That damn girl continued to evade him.

His judgement.

His vision.

His Father.

They must be connected.

They HAVE to be.

And this meant he needed to be in the good graces of Minos.

… Fuck.

. . .

“Make way!” A deep voice bellowed.

Gabriel was snapped out of his haze for a second time, just in time to witness the masses part with the disorganized shuffling of feet.

Then came the heavier footfall.

Two massive husks emerged from the crowd, parting the way and guiding the sinners amongst them to part. The Archangel's chin tilted upwards, they were quite ways away from their layer.

How far does this corruption spread?

And as the masses settled, and the greater husks took their place… He emerged. The King of Lust. The Judge of Hell himself…

Minos.

The frail man carried himself elegantly, bringing himself forward and stopping at the first step to the palace.

And he bowed.

One by one, row on row. Like a wave, the masses followed suit. First came the greater husks, then the reporters, and then the rest.

The dominoes fell into place.

And Gabriel stood over them all.

As it should be.

The Angel took flight, descending the steps without even touching them. Landing on the first step, Gabriel splayed his wings as he looked down at the Judge.

“Rise, Judge of Hell.” Gabriel demanded.

Minos rose without hesitance. “O Gabriel, hast the heavens listened to mine pleas at last?”

The Archangel gestured to the palace behind him. “All shall be revealed in due time.”

“Let us linger no longer, then.” Minos followed behind the Archangel, the two ascending the steps of the palace with an unspoken urgency.

The doors opened, revealing to the King and Angel a hall filled with bowing husks.

They continued further, Gabriel holding his hands behind his back as they moved across the Judgement Hall. 

“I commend you for one thing, and one thing alone.” Gabriel spoke flatly, turning their attention to the younger section of kneeling husks.

Minos nodded slowly. “The halls of mine palace afford greater safety to the young, than offer the waters of Wrath.”

Walking deeper into the palace, the tension deepened as the audience was left to wonder. “What do you think yourself to be, Minos?” Gabriel hissed.

“A humble servant of the Lord.” The Judge replied immediately.

“And what servant defies the word of his Master? Pray tell, I am EAGER to hear.” 

Minos frowned.

A beat passed.

Minos spoke.

“The fire departed long ago, Gabriel.” 

Gabriel snarled.

Justice slid out of its sheath with a hiss, the blue blade pressed against Minos’ throat. The two remained there, daring the other to react.

“He will return.” 

“But what art we meant to do in his absence?"

“Follow his teachings, Minos! As we should always be!” 

“And if his teachings art erroneous?”

The blade pressed deeper against his skin, drawing a thin line of blood. 

“Watch your tongue before it is cut from your mouth, mortal.”

Minos remained deathly still.

“... Allow me to plead my case, Gabriel.”

“And what would that be?” Minos opened his mouth to speak.

Gabriel interrupted immediately. “No. Save your breath, this crime you've committed is most heinous indeed…” He slowly lowered the blade, his unrelenting grip on Justice causing it to tremble slightly in his hands.

“You will face Heaven itself.”

Minos' face lost its colour as he nodded slowly in understanding. This was how he expected it to go, yet it was still nerve racking. He hadn't expected Gabriel to take this above… But it made more sense than the Archangel taking it into himself.

Yet, Gabriel was never one for rationality. He was God's Will incarnate, always acting in the benefit of Heaven. Wouldn't it be easier to just strike him down and tear everything he'd worked so hard for asunder?

The Judge exhaled as his eyes opened, peering into the helm of the divine crusader. “I thank thee, Gabriel.”

Gabriel simply scoffed, sliding Justice back into its sheath alongside Splendor.

“It is within your interests to not surprise me like this again.”

Minos nodded. “I fear all mine cards lie upon the table.” The Archangel crossed his arms indifferently, presenting an unbothered facade even as he raged inside.

Gabriel wanted to murder this twink so badly.

But he had his own pet project to attend to.

His gaze left Minos' as he examined the throne room of the now King of Lust. “You understand what consequences will befall you and this layer if Heaven decrees against?” Gabriel asked coldly.

“I understood the consequences long before I began.” Minos remained beside the Angel at the foot of his throne, remaining standing as a sign of respect and acknowledgement to his divinity. “Yet, even in these vexing times... I perceive unease within thee, Gabriel.”

The Archangel finally met the King's gaze. “... I have known you for quite some time, Minos. Even by angelic standards. I shall speak, and you will not question.”

Minos nodded.

“I had no intentions on visiting this wretched place, not until the… The issue—in the Heavens had been resolved. In this little dive, I came across a young girl.” Gabriel paused, his gaze sharpening as he stepped forward. “I need to know more.”

“For a soul to seize thy gaze, it must be powerful indeed. I shall obey thy bidding, O Gabriel.”

Gabriel nodded. “Good. See to it you venture to the layer of Wrath, and board the Ferryman’s vessel.”

Gabriel turned aside, walking away from the King and his throne. “Do not keep me waiting.” Golden light bathed his angelic figure, and he disappeared from the room moments later.

. . .

The seafaring vessel swayed above the sullen waters of Wrath, the storms raging ever so affectionately as usual.

The Ferryman had halted his recovery missions days ago, his tumble into the waters fresh in his mind. It was embarrassing, and it was shameful more than anything.

The only good thing out of it would be the fact Heaven finally noticed him. Him as an individual, not as just another Ferryman. For Heaven's sake an ARCHANGEL descended to save HIM! God's Will no less!

The Ferryman hummed happily as he worked, his hammer and chisel carving into the perfect stone skillfully. Another statue of appreciation to the Heavens.

And another statue to cure boredom.

Sure, his statues had become blessed due to their proximity to his cloak… They were most certainly a mistake, and likely going to get him punished by the Lord above…

But Gabriel had seen them plenty of times before. His silence permitted their existence, and the Ferryman loved him even more for that.

Another reason his rowboat adventures had stopped was because of the Archangel's presence. The Ferryman couldn't afford to be unreachable or in a state of disservice. Not when he had such a high priority guest.

And unfortunately, his final reason was because of another high priority guest. 

Tessa James Elliot… Woo.

That girl had been a nightmare ever since he'd pulled her from the wretched waters. What had he seen in her when he offered his oar to her?

The Ferryman shuddered.

Whatever he saw, he'd seen wrong. That little gremlin deserved to stay under.

He shook himself free of those thoughts, no need to focus on the downsides when he's enjoying his hobby.

And deeper down, within the hull of the ship… Rested the aforementioned gremlin herself.

Tessa greatly enjoyed her current life. She has plenty of oxygen, people to talk to, and bread to eat.

Sure, she hadn't changed ever since she had first woken up in her little cabin… But honestly? She didn't care! No parents to boss her around, no societal pressures and CERTAINLY no death threats to her best friends!

.

.

.

Deep within the depths of the boat, surrounded by lost, tormented and tired souls rested a girl like no other. Buried beneath two layers of blankets, her hands clutched her notebook as she held it close to her face.

Dimly lit by the candlelight, Tessa's watery eyes stared at the messy—surprisingly detailed—drawings of her friends.

A blank background framed the three drones, something she'd certainly fill in later.

N.

V.

J.

Tessa's frown deepened as she held in a sob, holding the notebook away as she began to cry again.

She missed them.

So fucking much.

The Aussie took one final glance at her drawing. “G’night fellas… I'll see ya soon, honest…” Tessa clutched the notebook tightly to her chest as she closed her eyes.

Her fuzzy memories were all she had left of them.

. . .