Chapter 582: Stock Car Race (2/2)
”Are you Daxin's daughter? One of Legion?” another asked.
”Tell us who you are!” the first one said, still holding on. He knew that he was skirting the line on assault, but as a journalist he usually got away with such things as a single column or mention from him could make or break a person's life.
Jekstex grabbed one of the reporters, pulling them away from the woman. His three men followed, grabbing the other one and pulling him back as well as the one the LT had pulled away.
The woman slowly turned, as if the journalist wasn't holding her arm, until she faced him.
Her eyes were glowing red.
”You wish to know who I am?” the woman asked, exhaling smoke that smelled to Jekstex of blood and rusting iron. ”You dare lay your hands upon me?”
”Which Immortal are you and what is your opinion on the use of the Black Cauldron?” the reporter said, smirking slightly. Once they started asking questions or interacting, the interview was as good as...
The woman snapped her fingers.
The ground cracked open at the reporter's feet. Hands and arms of blackened bone reached up up out of the crack as flame shot out. The reporter screamed as cruel hooks and barbs on chains whipped out of the crack and embedded themselves deep in his flesh.
”You wish to know who I am?” the woman repeated, this time in a deep and rumbling voice. ”You wish to know me?”
The reporter screamed as one of his companions jumped forward and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him out of the crack as the hands and the chains dragged him into the burning smoking crack in the ground.
”Do you wish to join your friend?” the woman asked. Her eyes were no longer red, just flat gunmetal gray.
The journalist jumped back.
”Let him go!” the third one said.
LT Jekstex just stared, the same with his troops.
She smiled, showing long incisors and sharp teeth. ”You have always been mine,” she said, her voice back to being a female Terran's voice. ”Your ilk has served me since time immemorial. Maggots chewing and gnawing at decency to find or create rot and sin and gleefully gossip about it that you could feast upon the pain and anguish your gossip caused.”
The reporter was almost completely engulfed now. More chains and barbs came up, wrapping around his arms and head.
Jekstex and his squad just stared.
The crack in the ground slammed shut, only one arm out, and it was quickly pulled down.
The woman chuckled, taking a drag from her cigarette.
”Any other questions?” She asked with a smile that did not touch her eyes.
The reporters just stared.
”Run,” she said softly. She held up her hand, her fingers ready to snap. ”There is room for thee upon the plains of Gehenna.”
Jekstex watched as the two reporters ran, the fly-cams chasing after them.
The woman turned around and started walking.
”I could really go for a pop,” she said.
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General NoDra'ak sat behind his desk, still in his exercise uniform, as the Immortal known as Legion entered his office in full dress. The Immortal didn't salute or come to attention, merely moved over to a seat and sat down.
NoDra'ak could also see on his holoscreen that another of Legion was sitting down at a table with the thick bodied matronly looking Immortal, who was eating a sausage dog laden with mustard, relish, sauerkraut, and something called 'horse radish'. Legion had a 'polish dog' and a cup full of soda and he smiled at the matron, who smiled back.
The four Telkan who were guarding her were about five meters away.
”They should probably leave her alone,” the Legion in NoDra'ak's office said.
NoDra'ak looked at the thin dapper man. ”Who is she?”
Legion shook her head. ”There would be no records of her. You would not have heard of her. Suffice to say, she is actually older than any of us, in a way.”
NoDra'ak watched as the woman took a big bite of her meal.
”What happened to the reporter?” NoDra'ak asked.
”That's a difficult question to answer,” Legion said. He smiled as the version of him at the table took a bite of the food. ”Oh, no wonder she wanted to go get one. That tastes exquisite. Greasy, hot, and spicy.”
NoDra'ak kept his body language silent as he lit a cigarette to mask his pheromones. He had no doubt that Legion could read his species body language and non-verbal cues.
”Try. I'm going to have to answer,” NoDra'ak said.
Legion shrugged. ”All right. You're looking at The Detainee,” he said. ”No other name. Just that. She has another name, a title, really.”
NoDra'ak looked at the holo then at Legion. ”All right.”
”She's known as The Detainee, Lord of Hell,” Legion said.
NoDra'ak looked at the woman, who was sipping her carbonated drink through a straw.
”She's in disguise,” Legion chuckled. ”Actually, that's how she looks to most people. Her other form is a lot more what you'd think of. Lots of muscles, chains, leather, a whip, claws, big bat wings. You know the look.”
”So... the reporter's in Hell?” NoDra'ak tried. He watched as the Legion on the holo asked a question. The Detainee stopped sipping at her drink, primly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, then answered.
”Yes. Bound to one of the Trees of Woe in Cocytus, the Ninth Circle of the Torments of Hell,” Legion shrugged. ”She wants to know if anyone would speak for him.”
”There aren't many humans left,” NoDra'ak said, knowing his voice sounded less than convincing. He watched as Legion said something than the Detainee.
”She doesn't care. All souls come to her,” Legion said in the office.
NoDra'ak sighed. ”He's under my protection.” He watched the long explanation. The woman primly used the napkin to blot away the mustard from the corner of her mouth.
She then looked straight at the camera and NoDra'ak knew she could see him. She lit a cigarette, still staring at him, and exhaled smoke.
The smoke poured from the hologram, filling the room. NoDra'ak could smell old iron, hot blood, burning rock, and the stench of ash that came from destroyed cities. He could hear screaming, wailing, begging, pleading, and prayers torn from suffering throats.
The smoke cleared the room and a naked male Terran was on the floor, his body cut, bruised, abraded, and burnt. He had holes in his hands and feet, scars from burning hot chains around his arms, wrists, legs, and ankles.
”She apologizes to you, General NoDra'ak, for taking what is yours. She advises you to teach this creature manners, for he touched her without her permission and spoke to her as if he was her better,” Legion said.
NoDra'ak looked up from the sobbing Terran male to stare at Legion.
”We Immortals are to be respected,” Legion stated, shrugging. ”Be glad it wasn't Daxin, Daxin would have just killed him.”
As NoDra'ak watched Legion suddenly puffed out of existence.
He checked the holoscreen and saw that the version of Legion sitting at the table was saying something to the thick bodied matron, who started laughing.
The Detainee, the Lord of Hell? he thought, reaching out and thumbing the medical emergency alert.
As he watched the medics whisk the reporter away it suddenly came to him.
He started smiling as he prepared a quick message.
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Legion looked up as the door to his apartment crashed open.
Dee stood there, her eyes flashing with anger. She was holding a piece of honest to God parchment with calligraphic lettering on it.
”What in the name of Billy the Kid's Balls is this?” she asked, waving it at Legion.
”I don't know. What is it?” Legion asked.
Dee stomped up and held it out to him. Legion took it and read it real quick.
At first, he was shocked.
Then he started laughing.
”It's not funny!” Dee snarled.
Legion laughed harder.
The corner of Dee's mouth twitched.
Legion tapped the part of the parchment which named ”The Detainee, Lord of Hell, Servant of the Digital Omnimessiah” in elegant calligraphy, still laughing.
Dee snickered.
Legion laughed harder.
Dee joined him, sitting in one of the chairs, holding her stomach, as she rocked back and forth and laughed.
Finally it was over and Legion shook his head, tapping the parchment.
”Are you going to do it?” Legion asked.
Dee nodded. ”Yeah. The faster we get this over with, the faster we get Trucker, the faster we can plan our assault on Heaven,” Dee said.
Legion shook his head and tapped the parchment. ”You have to admit, the bug's got balls.”
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The courtroom was silent as the officers of the court and the judge filed in. Trucker was brought in, dressed in his dress uniform with all his medals, his lawyer looking nervous and wishing he was anywhere but there.
The judge sat down and looked at the prosecution.
”Well?” she asked. ”Where's your lead prosecutor?”
No sooner had she said that then the lights flickered. Screaming could be heard, growing louder. A divot punched up from the floor, light and cinders erupting from it. A huge clawed hand burst from the divot, slapping onto the table. The stench of scorched warsteel, rusted iron, hot blood, and brimstone filled the courtroom.
A massive creature, all muscle, brown skin, and chains, struggled out of the divot. Once it got loose the divot shrunk down, leaving the creature standing there, slowly flapping great bat-wings.
It suddenly shivered, like jello, and shrunk down to a slightly plump matronly looking woman in a suit top and knee high skirt, her hair pulled back in a bun.
”My apologies for tardiness, Your Honor,” the woman said, her voice smoky and rich.
”And you are?” the judge asked, feeling her body prickle with sweat.
”The Detainee, Lord of Hell, and I'll be representing the prosecution,” the woman smiled. ”In the interests of the court, you can call me Miss Taynee.”
The judge noted that the flooring beneath the woman's feet was not unmarked. There were slight scorchmarks here and there.
That, and holograms were easily disrupted and seen through thanks to countermeasures.
”Very well. Court is in session, the Confederate Armed Services v. Manuel Trucker,” the judge said.
She tapped the silver bell.
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7TH ARMY BUGLER
All news! No rumors!
THE DEVIL TO PROSECUTE GENERAL TRUCKER!
You read that right! The Devil herself is the lead prosecutor on the Black Cauldron Case!
[YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE!!!!]