Post by Wyntre Cold on Feb 24, 2016 2:07:25 GMT
"-I summon you to save us from danger."
The Empress awoke with all of the serenity of a golden tank flying out of an exploding train falling off of a cliff made out of winged sharks with eyes that shoot eight-legged laser-beams. Strange, she thought, I don't remember falling asleep. She woke up quite shocked, for she had been ripped out of her dream quite forcefully. The problem with this, though, was that there was no dream. She was ripped out of Hell and into the Void, and from the Void into… here. 'Here' was an odd place.
Below her was an inscription with candles and incense. It's patterns made it look like what Hollywood thought would summon unholy beasts and the like, giving Wyntre an odd thought: I don't think I'm in Hell any more. Soon, she caught sight of a hooded figure who seemed more surprised to see her than she was to see him. This was a considerable feat in and of itself, considering she'd just, from the looks of it, been summoned into a room she'd never been in.
"Mighty Demon, I politely request that you request us with our troubles!"
Wyntre blinked once. Then she blinked again. And again. And again. And then twice in rapid succession. And then again. "Come again?" she requested, blinking like mad. Not wanting to anger what he believed to be a potentially-malignant entity, the summoner repeated his words to the letter, and in a very similar tone. "Oh. Yes. Of course. If I were to ask… how was I summoned?" The figure's complete lack of surprise demonstrated, at least to Wyntre, that he's never done this before. Good. Probably. "My, uh, mastery over summoning has allowed me to summon entities from hell for about an hour. As everyone knows, only demons, trolls and spirits inhabit hell. You are clearly neither a troll, nor a spirit. Now, Mighty Demon, tell me your name so that our task may be done and that you may, uh, continue your slumber. If that's what you like to do."
An hour. I have an hour in wherever I am before I'm dragged back down to Hell. It was in that moment that Wyntre had decided to have the first fun she's had in thirty years (she's twenty five) and play along with what seemed to be a highly-inexperienced summoner. His robe seemed to be made out of a cheap grey cloth.
She came across a dilemma: what was she to call herself? She doubted if such summonings could transcend time itself, it was highly probably that the summoner knew the name 'Wyntre' and to whom it was commonly applied. The only names of demons she knew were Beelzebub, Grugg, Paimon and his affiliate. So, who was she to impersonate? She abhorred Grugg and she couldn't even remember the name of Paimon's underling. Just in case the Prince is watching me and not that stupid show of his, I better not make a mockery. Suddenly, her voice deepened as if she'd wanted to sound demonic and such, stating the following: "I am Lady Paimon, Slayer of Slain!"
She surprised herself with how horrible that wasn't. Next, she was to ask a question, one asking for reasons not to do something she was never going to try at all, but asked nevertheless. "What makes you think I won't just kill you where you stand?" she asked, trying to be intimidating. She was just about as intimidating as a sleeping gerbil, but it seemed to have worked anyway. "Oh, well, Lady Paimon, Slayer of Slain, you wouldn't be able to kill me where I stand because, if you were to try, I'd be sure to be standing somewhere else. Now, I should probably brief you on our situation, but I'm not the best to do it. Please, uh, follow me, your Ladyship?" he requested, almost as if he was trying to gain approval.
She nodded, finally getting a better look at the person who had brought her here: he was a Brenchian with skin the color of grass and hair the same color as the grass on the other side. Odd. It's always the brench-seijin.
As she followed him out the door, she got a good look at the architectural design of the floor, the roof, the door and the wall. After mere moments of analysis, she came to a conclusion: she was, undoubtedly, on a Merchant-class Freighter, typically used by merchants, smugglers or pirates who couldn't afford anything better. Why would any of those groups summon a 'demon'? And what members of these groups would actually be able to? "State your name and occupation," she sternly ordered, smelling the distinct smell of air that's been breathed in thousands of times. She was most definitely on a spaceship.
"The name's Picante, ma'am. I'm the guard of this vessel, and the fastest shot in the quadrant," he boasted, showing her an expensive (and illegal) laser pistol. "I apologize for bringing it up, but I can't help but notice you look a whole lot like an Arcosian. Would you care to explain?"
Oh dear. As she tried to think up some reason or another to explain why she looked the way she looked, she came up not with the reason she needed, but one she could use anyway. "Normally, I only let myself be summoned by Arcosians because they're the best at talking and the most generous. Because of this exclusivity, I decide to take on a form they would find familiar. Back home, I have many more horns. And hair. And redness. And there's fire. I'm also much taller. And, uh, demon-y."
She has never lied so much in her life. With the exception of that bit about Arcosians being good talkers and generous (as that was wholly true), she'd lied so much that her pants would have caught fire if they didn't know better.
"Oh," he muttered, pretending to understand perfectly. He didn't. "Anyway, we're at the Bridge."
And, indeed, at the Bridge they were. It was a horrendously short walk they've been through and yet they've already had a conversation in that frame. Isn't it magic how Wyntre can say so much in such little time? The Bridge wasn't as extravagant and dramatic as one you might have found on a larger ship. Rather, it seemed to be comprised of cheap metals, levers, buttons and rust. It was a small room, which was appropriate considering the size of the Freighter. Considering the condition of panels, I'd say this ship hadn't been checked up in years. Considering it also has a guard, I'd say they're Smugglers. Pirate's tend to not need guards.
Wyntre was surprised to find that she's happened to notice the condition of the control panels much sooner than she'd found what she presumed to be the ship's captain and chief smuggler sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair with a laser pistol aimed at her forehead.
Picante, an explanation is in order!"
"Nice to meet you too."
The Brenchian in question, afraid, unnecessarily saluted at an alarming speed. "Yessir, Cap'n! I have found a piece of mystical cargo, a book of spells. And with it, I had summoned a demon to save us!"
The person of authority that Wyntre had assumed to be the captain of this vessel (Picante calling him 'Cap'n' was a clue) put his pistol up to his face and scratched his nose slightly, almost as if he were thinking. The Empress- sorry, Lady Paimon, had enough experience dealing with idiots to know that he wasn't. "Greetings. My name is Lady Paimon and nothing else."
The Captain seemed to be taken aback by this statement. No, the Captain seemed to be taken aback by her. That look in his eyes gave her the impression that he recognized her from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it. The next look she received gave her the impression that something clicked and he figured out who she appeared to be. The look after this gave her the impression that he disregarded this. And with good reason, too: it seems more likely for a demon to imitate the appearance of Wyntre than for the Arcosian Empress herself to be summoned.
"Hmm. I'll call everyone to the Dining Chamber. Keep your demon pet on a short leash, I don't want it causing trouble."
Well, let's see who thinks he can boss around an Empr- Demon Lady as if she were a slobbering dog No one can, by the way. "You are aware that I could kill you whenever I feel like it, correct? I'm losing my patience and I have a whole bunch of absolutely nothing to catch up on back in hell," she informed, not quite lying. She did have a considerable amount of nothing to catch up and she was hoping to finish the nothing soon.
"Somehow I doubt that," he started aiming the pistol at her more threateningly, reeking of liquor, "Watch yourself, mutt. I could blast your head off any time I pleased."
Wyntre would have said that she was scared, but that was a bigger lie than any of the ones from before combined. With a horrifically slow hand movement directed towards the pistol, the Captain pulled the trigger, only for the laser to fly into Wyntre's skin and… disappear with no evidence of existing. She grabbed the laser pistol with immense ease and crushed it in her hand until it was little more than powder slipping from her fingers and to the floor. Meanwhile, the Captain looked like he'd seen a two-headed zombie eating a gourd-shaped puppy or something equally gasp-worthy. Completely unlike this, Picante was having a little giggle in the corner.
"Call everyone to the Dining Chamber. Now." She sounded bored.
She tried to give the impression that she was about to 'lose her cool', but in reality she was as calm as a fragrant tulip on a still day. From the looks of the Captain's face, this impression had been given. These people were adequately clean and weren't trying to, lord forbid, hug her, so their necks and their heads could stay connected for now. That sounded unnecessarily morbid. After all, the process of losing your cool is not something Wyntre was known for: while she certainly didn't use it, she'd always kept it on her.
Cursing unmentionable words, the Captain pressed a small button, surrounding by hundreds of identical buttons with worn-out labels. "They've been alerted, demon," he spurted, Wyntre pretending to be insulted whereas she was not, "Get to the Dining Hall before I change my mind. "
The truth of the matter was that 'Paimon' could have made her way to the Dining Hell whenever she wanted to, be this before or after the Captain changed his mind: not that there was much mind to change in the first place, of course. The Captain with his measly power and impotent pistol couldn't damage her if he activated the self-destruct sequence and waited the obligatory sixty seconds to have the ship blow itself up into smithereens. Of course, he'd never do that. There was some… precious cargo… that he had to deliver.
As people started coming into the room with terrified looks on their faces, the Captain pulled pushed Picante to the side quite violently, away from anyone else, as they began a little one on one chat. Unfortunately for them, scouters could scout and thus included the ability to hear small sounds from a good distance away. They weren't very quiet and they were close-by enough to be heard easily, giving 'Paimon' the ability to overhear their little chat.
((Yes, please pronounce the asterisks. Alien cusses are weird.))
"I leave you alone for five ****ing minutes and you've already brought in a ****ing demon ****. Why the **** does she look like a bloody frost-****?"
"You're gonna be thanking me soon for all of this, Cap'n Sir,-" "Answer the damn ****ing question!" "-She said she'd chosen a form that her usual summoners would be familiar with or whatnot."
The Captain would have laughed if he knew how to. But no, he was a man obsessed with zeni, it was his only desire. Any semblance of love had died many years ago. "Are you ****ing daft? Why the **** would anyone believe that?" When Picante took a while to answer, the Captain pushed him into the now-complete group of people, now ready to do what he should have done sooner.
"Ahem. It has come to my attention that, through the arcane cargo that had been found onboard, the usage of which is against policy, by the way, one of the guards-" he started, even though there was only one guard, "- had committed a taboo and summoned a powerful, yet unbound, demon. We are in hopes that the kindness of our guest surpasses her stupidity, of which I am doubtful. Desperate measures for desperate times."
Still, what was wrong was not known and what was not known was wrong. In total, it seemed the ship contained a mere six people, two of which known. The other four seemed to be distraught, probably trying to move from Planet A to Planet B without much cost. In fact, the smallest one seemed to be an Arcosian under his heavy hooded robes, likely trying to avoid persecution after Arcose became a poorly-maintained garden.
"As all but one are aware, a great tragedy had befallen this humble vessel. After slamming into a comet at high-speeds, we had been sent off-course, sending us dangerously close to the local star, Ajokoira V. Despite the air conditioning working harder than any of your sorry asses ever have, we will get too close and will burn up in, say, fifty minutes. The engine had been damaged and is struggling with sustaining even life support and the lights. If we try get to away from Ajokoira V, it would require all of our energy. All of our energy isn't quite available. Demon, what can you do to save us all?"
This provoked serious thought. Or, rather, this provoked what seemed like serious thought. Wyntre knew what she was to do because he finished, she even knew what he was going to say before he started, clues were everywhere. Like, for example, the dials on the monitor at the bridge that the Captain likely didn't understand the meaning of. 'Paimon' simply stood there for the purposes of giving a dramatic pause and/or to give the Captain time to think about what he's done. Considering the fact that he evidently didn't know where the corner was, maybe he would have to be forced into it.
"'Save us all', Captain? It's almost as if you think I'm in some sort of danger. No, I think I'll just stand by as your flesh melts and your innards pop as I enjoy the show."
Wyntre wasn't quite like this, of course. As everyone knows, your innards don't pop when unprotected from the ravaging void, she merely said what she did to show how powerless a star was against her, and therefore them. She wasn't quite going to watch them burn and die horrifically either, such a sight should not be seen. For this reason, she decided that she would look away when it occurred. However, more importantly, she wasn't going to watch them burn and die as burn and die they wouldn't.
"Yes, I will save you. How? I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me. So I'd rather show you. According to my scouter, thirty minutes had already passed since I was summoned. A very short forty minutes. Therefore, according to Picante, I have around twenty minutes to save you all. I can do that. Picante, would you please direct me to any escape pods you may have on this vessel?"
Picante scratched the back of his neck as if there was a script hidden there detailing how to answer the question. There was not. "A bit of a problem with that, actually, ma'am. For the sake of… business… Cap'n had us re-purpose the escape pods and their room to store cargo, they cannot be used as escape pods. Why would you want an escape pod?"
Was it not obvious?
Escape was not the only purpose of an escape pod. You could always use them to send idiots into the Great Abyss. Or, alternatively, you could use them to send a single spaceworthy (it's a word now!) person to the outside without losing a good amount of oxygen through a direct puncture. Of course, the escape pods couldn't be used so she just left the ship through the main entrance. It was oddly comforting to know that just about anyone in your scenario would be dead by now. Not as to show that many others would be dead, of course, but rather that you and a select few others wouldn't be.
She now flew about the outside of the small freighter, surveying the surrounding areas. Besides the innumerable amount of stars, the two things that could be seen were one especially close star (Ajokoira V) and the freighter itself. Oh, and Wyntre's arms and such were also seen if we were to go into the pedantics of the situation. Her scouter made sure of the situation at hand: there was no life in any form in orbit around that star with the strict exception of Wyntre and the beings on the freighter, which weren't really in orbit at all anyway.
Let's blow up a star.
But first, to prepare. To remove the chance for any… unnecessary… damage, the ship should be moved a considerable distance away from the star. With immense ease, a single flick caused the ship to fly away at great speeds, allowing 'Paimon' some space. Insurmountable energy formed a sphere of red. This power was reserved for legendary figures; gods, even. There were few beings who could stop such a thing and a far smaller amount who could start such a thing. This was the immense, this was the unfortunately-named, this was the feared: this was the Death Ball.
It was named such for a reason.
It would have been immeasurable if it wasn't, you know, measurable. It would have been infinite if it wasn't, as you'd expect, finite. It would have been beyond comprehension if it wasn't, as one might think, comprehended. But it was immense. It looked like a smaller version of the star itself. Besides the size, the only discernible difference would be how absolutely stuffed the larger one is in comparison with how absolutely stuffed the smaller one is.
If the scene were to be viewed from another angle, one befitting of epic orchestral music, one could see that the attack and the star would appear to be the same size. If a photograph was taken from said angle and 'Paimon' was removed from said photograph, one who had seen it would likely believe that it was a picture of a binary system, even if the distance in between the star and the 'star' was minimal. I believe this is what is called 'irony': what is one star is thought to be two when it, in actuality, soon to be no stars at all. Reality and the popular perception of reality are often affected adversely, as demonstrated. Soon, 'Paimon' could not be seen against the intense magnitude of the Second Star. So, with a mere movement of the finger, a teeny-tiny change caused a greater one. A much, much greater one. The Ball of Death went forth, decreasing the distance even further in between the two red spheres. Closer, closer, yet closer still.
There was a terrifying silence.
There was a frightening calm.
There was an abhorrent tranquility.
There was a monstrous peace.
And then there wasn't.
The two spheres met and roared their noiseless roars. Despite the great difference in their sizes, 'Goliath' was clearly struggling against 'David'. The whole 'battle' would end in mere moments: an ever-present and timeless orb of gas and plasma would simply vanish without rhyme, reason or any form of explanation. Astronomers will be baffled.
Normally, destroying a star is something is something you wouldn't really do. In fact, it was quite unnecessary. So what reason did she have to destroy a star, something she would normally be opposed to? She had been dead for quite a while. She found an opportunity to make a large mark on the living realm and she took it. No harm done.
A struggle ended and a star was no more.
Wyntre had found out that she was not welcome back in the ship. The Captain seemed to not want to let her back her in. Too bad for him, she capable of… just about anything. She couldn't just blow up the ship, there were others on it. However, endangering crew members the way he did warranted a punishment. She couldn't kill him, he was probably the only one who knew how to pilot the ship without confusing the self-destruct button for the the ketchup-serving robot button.
So how could she get in? She could pierce the hull and suffocate anyone in the effected room, but that was risky, someone may die. So how was she to get in? Simple. She flew towards the ship and started vibrating in a certain, unique way on an atomic level. When she might have normally smashed into the hull, she had rather went through it as if it wasn't there. Behold, the Intangibility Technique.
She made her way from the outside and into the inside with the same ease one might have have when attempting to go through an open door. Finding herself back, she was disappointed to find that the first person she'd see after destroying a star was the otiose Captain. Oh well. I may as well make the best of the situation.
"I should have ****ing killed you as soon as saw you, you worthless demon ****!"
"I missed you too."
Enraged beyond belief and back again, he pulled the trigger as a glowing laser-like 'bullet' flew towards her. Doing absolutely nothing to prevent the bullet, it simply disappeared against her forehead, not visibly affecting anything as her scouter gave the power readings.
"Laser 'Bullet' Power Level: 30. Your Power Level is a pitiful 12. My Power Level is just a little bit under two million. I am hundreds of thousands times stronger than you. You could shoot a never-ending nuclear mini-gun at my face all day and you'd see a three-winged, eleven-tailed and legless unipegasus with rainbows for teeth and cereal for eyes before you'd see me being damaged in any form. Scram, before you find your torso firmly lodged in between your teeth and your eyes having had turned into confetti which you will then be forced to eat through your burnt nostrils."
So scram he did.
Wyntre's scouter went through some simple calculations. Based off of the time when she was summoned and the time when she was was told she had already been summoned for thirty minutes, the scouter told her roughly when she would be desummoned, sent back. It was quite soon. Too soon. She had mere minutes remaining, mere minutes left to prevent the Captain from doing something stupid and killing the crew members.
Meanwhile, the Captain had just about lost it. How dare that demon *****!
The ship's occupants were visibly, and quite understandably, shaken. They had just seen what they believed to be a high-class demon of some description fly out in space, perhaps due to the Arcosian 'disguise', and blow up a star. Just like that. "'Ey Cap'n Sir, you may wanna check this out, Sir." urged Picante, looking at the readings the ship picked up. "Kanassa has closed its trade frequencies. The last thing we picked up was something about an incoming tree of some sort."
"Trees are of the least concern, don't stop the path to Kanassa. More importantly, how do we get the Demon ***** off of our tail?"
"Have you tried not shooting her? She did just prevent our deaths."
"Do you have anything meaningful to add to this conversation?"
"Well, according to the summoning tome, she only has a few more minutes before she's sent back to hell. Then she'll be gone."
The Captain seemed to be in an intense period of thought. In reality, the Captain was thinking very little: this thoughtful gaze was, in reality, not very thoughtful at all. But Picante didn't need to know that, did he?
"Then all we have to do is hold her off until she's gone. If you see her, kill her."
"I'd much rather not."
At first, the Captain didn't quite realize what was said. In fact, he didn't quite realize who said it. Rather, he was under the impression that Picante had said 'yessir' as he had been known to do. This was not the case. It took a few seconds for him to realize anything was off. When he did, however, he was a sight to see. He turned around with all the speed as a peregrine falcon being shot out of a cannon and into an active blender.
"How did you get passed the guards?"
"There were no guards."
"How did you get in here, then?"
"I walked in."
"But how did you get passed the sealed doors?"
"They were open."
"But what about the guards?"
"As I've said, there were none. In fact, this freighter's only guard is currently standing behind you, about to press his valued laser pistol against your neck."
The freighter's only guard, currently standing behind the Captain, pressed his valued laser pistol against the Captain's neck. "Cap'n… you're about to do something rash. Think about your actions."
"You've betrayed me, huh? That I can take. You're threatening my life. I can take that. But now you're with the Demon *****? Stand down, Picante, let the adults threaten each other uninterrupted." Next, there was a whole lot of a lack of standing down as the guard held his ground in silence. "Stand down!"
Sensing an opportunity, the Captain jumped away, escaping from the grasp of his subordinate and grabbing for his own laser pistol which Picante masterfully shot out of his hand. Fastest shot in the quadrant.
"Calm down, calm down. You won't shoot, will you? No, I raised you. I gave you that gun. I found you eating Ikfrian Dust-Rats and I brought you in, grew you up, yet this is my repayment? Lower your weapon, Pic. That's an order."
It may have been an order but it wasn't being followed very well. As 'Pic' froze like a statue, it became further clear that he was being torn as to what to do. Of course, the least morally-questionable thing to do would be to set the pistol the stun and shoot the Captain, even if that would lead to a very much alive armed man wanting to kill you once he's awakened.
60.
Another option would simply be to shoot him and to let him perish. This had its merits, of course, but it was not without its flaws. Namely, there would be no one who knew how to fly Pic and the rest of the people on-board back to Kanassa: the ship used to have an auto-pilot function but was later removed and sold because, and I quote, 'there simply is no need for it'. Oddly enough, no matter what were to happen, the Captain would still have never seen it been used.
50.
Another option was for Pic to turn around and shoot Wyntre straight in between the eyes, but this had major problems. Firstly, as demonstrated, such a meagre attack would do just as much damage if he didn't shoot at all. Secondly, she'd saved their lives. Thirdly, the Captain was the offending party.
40.
Growing impatient, the Captain grabbed for his second laser pistol and tried to shoot his guard. Unfortunately for him, his guard was the (self-proclaimed) fastest shot in the quadrant. Or, in terms so simple Zucceta could understand it, things didn't go well for him.
Picante shot the 'bullet' with one of his own, the two canceling each other out, before reflexively shooting once again, the energy slamming itself into the solar plexus of his boss and immediately killing him.
Or, at least, it would have if Wyntre hadn't intercepted it.
"No one should die so meaninglessly."
30.
There was a horrible silence. Much the eye of the storm, you knew that the same chaos was soon to continue in just a few short moments. Worse than this still was the likelihood of what has yet to come being worse than what had been.
"You ****ing demon *****, get out of my way!"
"Are you referring to me? If so, no."
20.
The Captain sent a barrage of poorly-aimed blasts at the person who was still believed to be a demon. As you might have expected by now, they were less than effective. To make sure something like that didn't happen again she shot a quick purple ki ball, no larger than a golf ball, at his weapon which then commenced to melt in his hands, forcing him to drop it. I just hope he doesn't have a third weapon.
"You two have in the dark for a while. It has caused some damage. I suppose I should elaborate. However, first, I have some important business I need to attend to."
10.
Moving over to a bench with innumerable buttons, switches, dials, levers and other such whatnots, 'Paimon' simply focused on one seemingly insignificant counting device: or, rather, counting-down device. It's 09 quickly turned into an 08, which in turn became a 07. This was not the time it took until Wyntre faded back to hell. No, rather, it was the time until something far more sinister was set to occur. 06. She typed something into a keyboard. 05. She pressed the enter key a few times, seemingly frustrated. 04. She typed something else. 03. She typed the exact sane thing but with slight alterations. 02. She looked over what she had just wrote, making sure if it was right. 01. In one of the last possible moments, she pressed the enter key.
Self-destruct sequence canceled.
Looking back to the two, triumphantly, she saw an angry captain and a confused Picante. As expected. "What in bloody heaven's name was that all about?"
"That's an interesting question asked in an interesting way. However, I shall answer it. Your Captain here recognized that there was no feasible way to be rid of me without waiting, or so it seemed. He was likely under the impression that I would claim your souls or some similar nonsense. So, as to prevent this, he wanted to kill himself and you. Is this correct, Captain?"
Angered, the Captain tried to grab for both of his weapons, neither of which were there. "Could be. You can't blame me, everyone knows you shouldn't make deals with devils!"
"That's just it, see. I am as much a devil as you are. I am not 'Lady Paimon, Slayer of Slain'. I am Empress Wyntre Cold, the High-Benevolence of Arcose. There's more to it than even that, you see. You have trapped yourselves down the rabbit-hole and you don't even know it yet. During this eventful hour, I had found enough time to go and read that book of spells you had summoned me from. Of course, it was written in a very old Arcosian dialect, so some translations may have been off, understandably. What you believed to say 'for a single hour only' had actually meant 'for the most dire hour'. In fact, you'd actually just skipped over an entire paragraph, perhaps the most important. You see, the summoned entity will not fade after one hour, but rather after its goal had been completed, after the dire hour's problem had been resolved. I only just remember it now, but you summoned me to save you from danger. Captain, I had not yet returned. Therefore, you are classified as a danger."
This was an awful lot to take in and it was quite understandable if they didn't quite get it at first. This was fine. It'd give them time to think about the implications. "Hang on a moment, Empress Wyntre mam, if you want to return to hell and the only way to do so is to… incapacitate the Captain, why did you save him from my attack?"
"Another interesting question put interestingly, congratulations. However, to answer it, a single explanation will not suffice. Firstly, I'm not quite a fan of letting people die. Second, he's the only one onboard able to fly this thing. Normally I'd be able to, but these controls are ancient. And lastly (yet certainly also most importantly), you cannot get something from nothing. It is like this in all systems, all concepts and all actualities. You cannot simply bring people back from the dead for free. You cannot make the dead live without also doing its opposite. Picante, if the purpose of my summoning were to be fulfilled, your life will no longer be yours. I do not know if you will be the plaything of some real demon or you will simply die, but I do know that it will not be pleasant."
"So if I die, we'll all be going to the ****ing World Beyond. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
This entire experience had been eye-opening. The problem was, of course, that he may not be able to close them again because he may be dead by then.
"No, not exactly. So, uh, miss Empress mam, while I don't exactly know what the bloody heaven's going on, I do have good reason to believe that this is a tricky situation for all involved."
It wasn't. Wyntre could do practically whatever she pleased: she could destroy the ship and all on it but her with absolutely nothing bad happening to her. She could, of course, but she won't. Wacky adventures like this seemed to happen way too happen: things like this simply couldn't surprise her anymore. So no, this was not a tricky situation for her at all. Clearly, however, no one but her had to know that.
She had pondered the possibility of not returning to hell and simply going elsewhere, but there were multiple reasons why she did not do this. However, the only one important enough to note, and boy is it important, goes as such: every ten minutes or so, her Scouter has shown that her Power Level has halved. Because it had been an hour or so, her current Power Level was thirty thousand or so. If this pattern continued, she wouldn't be able to take much of the laser shots from either gun if either decided to shoot her in about 100 minutes time. And, an hour after that, she probably wouldn't be able to stand in 0.5g. Or, in another words, she only had a few hours to do something about it.
But what was she to do? The two may as well be at each other's throats. The only reason they weren't currently trying to murder each other was because they were both weaponless and because they were under strict supervision. To return, the Captain would have to stop being a danger and Picante would die as a result.
"Indeed. Picante, the fact that your soul had been directly bound to such a thing as this will kill you. This will most likely occur when the request has failed, when I die. According to a trend I've noticed, I'll only be around for a few more hours. All that needs to be done is to do this… cleanly."
If Pic hadn't realized his fate earlier, he had now. Wyntre's (admittedly) small amount of knowledge concerning summoning had told her that if someone had their soul paid in a request not yet fulfilled, there was no way that person wasn't either serving a demon or dead come request completion.
Pic looked down as if he'd find salvation on the floor. He hadn't. He knew the reason he was going to die was because of his inaptitude when it came to the arcane. Well, his inaptitude did save everyone on the ship but him. He was going to die doing the right thing, he was certain of that, as he nodded slightly.
"Great. Now, Captain, all we need to do is impris- Where'd you go?" queried Wyntre, referring to the lack of anyone where he had once stood. As expected, really. We have a runner. "Just one moment."
A man wearing what used to be expensive clothing run down a multitude of corridors, desperately trying to think up something to do. Fearing for his life, the alien known only as 'the Captain' or 'Cap'n' sprawled around the area. He was, somewhat understandably, quite terrified. That was, however, until he saw a certain something.
Wyntre calmly walked down the corridor, her scouter having had scanned the ship's layout and the Captain's location to figure out how to get there. Of course, Wyntre hadn't needed this: she could tell if he'd went down a certain corridor and how recently he had done so from the smell of cheap cigars he seemed to emit. Curiously, she hadn't actually seen any cigars on-board. He must have used them all in the first five minutes after lift-off. Pretty soon she had come across where he was. He was huddled in the corner, desperately trying to find any weapons he had on hand but had forgotten about. There were none. He was in his own jail: he had locked himself in. In between Wyntre and the Captain was a layer of some form of red laser 'bars'.
"It's pointless trying to get passed. It'd slice anything that comes through. Not only that but I can leave when you're no longer here."
If Wyntre didn't always look disappointed in everyone and everything she sure did now. She looked disappointed, of course, because she was disappointed. "Are you aware that I could just use my intangibility technique so get passed with intense ease? But no, such effort would be wasted on you. Rather, I am simply going to remind you who ordered this very model of ship to be created: my Father. He was an odd man, you see. He had this obsession with fail-safes and back-ups. If a particular ship wasn't acting properly, he'd use the administrative systems he had ordered to be put in place. If the Captain of a vessel locks himself up, he'd use his systems. If an android isn't acting properly, it would bring itself to a default personality. If he were to die, Frigid would take over. If Frigid became a mindless beast incapable of governing (which he had indeed become), Aisama would take over. If Aisama (more on her later) continued acting only in self-interest, Gelid would take over. If Gelid became a pompous sloth who was too absorbed by his appearance and wealth to rule well, Mother would have taken over. If Mother wasn't already dead, Uncle would have taken over. If Uncle hadn't tried to form a coup and seize power forcefully, getting himself publicly executed, my Cousin would have taken over. My Cousin has the mental ability of a bear in hibernation. Therefore, I took over. There are no more back-ups, no more fail-safes. Just me. And now I've died. The last has gone. There is no more after me and I'm stuck here. Dead. Chasing an idiot, letting himself trap himself."
"What the **** are you talking about?"
The truth was, Wyntre could open that field whenever she bloody well wanted to. But she didn't. In fact, the Captain walked into the trap. All she really actually did was a quick reversal: openable only from the outside. He was now stuck in the cage in the same way that yolk was trapped in an egg if said egg's shell was four meters thick and made of titanium.
"Just a little monologue. Don't worry, you weren't expected to understand."
Picante revealed himself, stepping away from the corner where he had seen the entire ordeal take place. If what was said was correct, he wouldn't be his own anymore. Oddly, however, he didn't seem to care all that much. He was a cheap guard who dedicated his services to a scummy fool who somehow owned a freighter. His entire life would be spent serving an undeserving fool. He wasn't actually the fastest shot in the quadrant. If the Captain were to have died before Pic, his remaining days would be picking up any job he could manage to catch and struggling to feed himself. There was no hope for him anyway. So why not?
And then he collapsed.
No warning was given: he was on his feet one moment and his face the next.
Mere seconds later a glowing golden sigil appeared under his… corpse?… and began its own transportation process. "No one has to die this day." she solemnly spoke, walking over to the sigil and looking over Picante's body. If I were to guess, his soul is still in that body. Only, now, it is his prison. She only hoped that she would be taken with it, in order to retrieve the body from wherever it would be taken.
"You're nuts, absolutely nuts!"
"What? I'm only going through a mysterious portal to save an innocent soul from what may or may not be a terrifying demon stronger than me. Nothing I haven't done before. Now, if you'd excuse me, I have a single, insignificant guard to risk my life for. À tout à l'heure, Captain."
On the other side of actuality, Wyntre emerged with a cadaver by her feet.
Around her were the sorts of things normal people had nightmares about. Fortunately, she wasn't normal people. Or normal. Or people, for that matter. What was she, however? Why, she was the High-Benevolence. She was the Empress of the Arcosian Empire! She spat in Death's face and had it apologize for being in the way! She's accomplished more by hanging upside-down from a branch with her tail for a minute or so than the entirety of the rest of hell's denizens could manage in their entire existences!
But how much power did she have?
… Enough.
Invading her nostrils was the stench of a collection of unsanitary bugs and vermin swimming around in vast amounts of fecal matter. Surrounding her were whispering shadows and unruly mounds of darkness, making rude comments behind her back. Behind the layers of blackened air, she could see an infestation from which the horrible stench originated.
One could hear their horrid snickers, their meals being violently shared, their teeth and legs crossing in anticipation for their next meal and the occasional sound sound of a winged insect flying to another pile of excrement.
Frankly, Wyntre regretted trying to save Picante already. Oh well.
The darkness retreated as she heard a despicable laugh, comprised of pure malice… she's heard better. The owner of this laugh soon emerged, followed by an assortment of sickly oddities.
For a start, the Demon was comprised of dirty bugs, primarily cockroaches. It's potent firefly eyes observed her light-heartedly, yet with the worst of intentions. "Curious. It seems I've caught another fly in my trap…" he mocked, often looking between the Empress and the soulless body by her feet of which the bugs were nearing.
Wyntre could only smile. Yes, she was disgusted, extraordinarily so. But that was overshadowed. Yes, overshadowed. Overshadowed by the promise of cleanliness and the feeling of bug-spray in her hands.
So she brought some out…
Shook them a bit…
Readied her pressing fingers…
And let all hell loose.