A Casual Visit.

[Living_Hellfire]

     The Man in Black lounges in his pocket dimension, the Infernite infused leather of the couch creaking as he stretches and points the soles of his shoes toward the open fire in the centre of the room. His fedora resting on the cushion beside him revealing shoulder length, burnt orange hair pulled back into a pony-tail. A tiny, blood-red demonling gnaws on a bone that looks suspiciously like a human femur within touching distance of a young German Shepherd named Bosco. They aren't so much getting along as they are ignoring each other as they both lay peacefully.

 

     The Man puffs his cigar, tapping the toes of his shoes together as they gather warmth from the fire. Almost as one Bosco and the demonling alert to something. Bosco rises to his feet, barking, moving away slowly while the blood-red creature beats its wings, backing away to the opposite corner, chattering away in some incomprehensible language. The Man in Black puffs his cigar.

 

     A flash of light and a being with a dozen wings and a hundred eyes upon them appears in the space between. Formless, seamless, impossible to percieve in its truest form and yet ever-present the being seems to occupy not just the space, but reality itself as though somehow it brings with it the very essence of another place. A place of love and hate, of acceptance and condemndation.

 

     A Voice - "ANGZIEL. ABOMINATION. SPAWN OF KADZIEL, OPENER OF WAYS, FORSAKEN BY OUR LORD. YOU ARE FOUND."

 

     There would be silence in the space as both Bosco and Screwtape cower, but there isn't. Instead there is the smacking sound of the wet end of a cigar being chewed. "Aye, so I am" Says The Man. "An' what of it?" More smacking, more blue smoke blown into the ceiling.

 

     A Voice - "YOU WILL BE TAKEN TO THE HIGH COURT OF THE HEAVENS WHERE YOU WILL FACE SUMMARY JUDGMENT FOR YOUR EXISTENCE AND RETURNED TO YOUR PLACE OF CONFINMENT IN PERDITION, IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE WILL AND WORD OF OUR LORD AND FATHER. SO IT SHALL BE."

 

     The man grins, taking the cigar from his mouth, shifting comfortably on the over-stuff sofa. "Aye? An' who might ye be?" He sniffs the air, his chuckle more of an outward sniff "Yer new, are ye not? Yer jes' a jumped up wanker lookin' fer a way tae get noticed, are ye not?" The strange, almost formless being seems to tremble in anger, clearly not used to being spoken to this way. There is an audible distortion of noise, like an overamplified speaker, buzzing and shaking.

 

     A Voice - "YOUR DISRESPECT TO OUR FATHER'S HARBINGER HAS BEEN NOTED AND WILL BE ADDED TO THE RECORD."

 

     "Aye?" Asks The Man as he gets to his feet, taking three steps forward to meet the being's gaze in its eyes, as much of them as possible. "Ye tell ol' Granda he's a feckin' wanker too. Ye ferget where ye are, cousin. Yer in my home, aren't ye?" A glint flashes in The Man's eye from behind the opaque shades.

 

     A Voice - "YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE JUDGMENT, ABOMINATION. COME WITH ME NOW AND YOU WILL BE TREATED JUSTLY, IN OUR FATHER'S EYES AND WITH HIS MERCY."

 

     The Man puffs his cigar for a moment, appearing to consider the offer before chuckling. "I dinnae think so... Lads!" At that both the German Shepherd and the tiny Demonling change their posture from one of trembling fear to rage. They lunge at the Angel, tearing it apart. The Holy Cries of one of The Host is unbearable... unless you happen to be Fergus McRae, son of Kadziel, Opener of Ways and architect of his own pocket dimension. The din quiets down, the Angel gone, Bosco and Screwtape return to their spots with the latter laying down a brand new bone right next to his old one.