Hell Reverse - Part 5

Spade threw his phone- again. It clattered against the nearest solid surface, he was pretty sure it was a wall, before the floor and sliding to it's new destination: underneath part of a booth. He didn't care. The bottle in his hand felt heavy, and he grasp the neck tighter as he poured.

One shot: She lied to him.

Two shots: She hadn't lied to him, because she hadn't said anything about it.

Three shots: Is it still considered a lie if you withhold information? Spade wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but the irony of it was transparent at best. Here he was, sitting in an abandoned what-once-was-a-bar, barely standing with a whole two walls and a bit of a roof. The District still hadn't been cleared for civilians, and the air still pulsed with old magick. An electrical storm was brewing, Spade could feel it in the air.

He poured another. The alcohol did nothing, really, though it would have been strong to the dwarves that frequented the establishment before the incident. He huffed, and poured another.

Three days. That's all it had taken. It had been normal office hours before, with absolutely no guests on the premises. Time for catching up on overdue paperwork over cooling takeaway boxes and warm cider. Spade had been looking forward to it- and he hated paperwork.

But no, instead there was a phone that vibrated it's way out from underneath file folders. Deceit had taken a single look at the screen before scooping it up and stepping into the hall sans excuse. There was nothing to overhear, and suddenly she was gathering her things before all but flying out the door with a promise of buying him lunch later in the week. Not even fifteen minutes later, the reports had come flooding in by any means available- phone, email, even the fax machine. Spade had mobilized moments later.

They had cross paths again, on the field. It was his job to put the beast down. And there she was, with a length of chain and a look of determination. There was no discussion needed: they were on opposing sides, again. Deceit, the woman he cared for a little more than he should, was protecting it. He only barely registered the various Princes of Hell present, trying to reel the beast back away from the Gates.

All that had mattered to him was Deceit. Trying first with words, then with something a bit more solid. They had collectively wrecked the area, or what had been left of it once the beast was distracted.

Perhaps, perhaps that part wasn't the bit that bothered him so. Spade could be honest, normally, but not quite this time. He had been the distraction, and she hadn't even warned him. Nothing of the sort. Now they were both a mess of cuts and bruises and there was nothing that had come of it. Hundreds had died, or worse. There were shadows where some stood, vaporized on contact. Others had passed in hours, or almost days. He had read the reports of perhaps twelve or so living yet- out of the almost two hundred carted from the wreckage. No one was expected to live through the night.

He poured another drink, and wondered absently if Princes of Hell were there to protect or end lives.