Persephone had called on her inner demon, hoping to tear this small, pathetic man before her apart. She was stunned when, not only did her power fail her, but she was forced out of her demonic form entirely. Uncertain of what to do next, she attempted to run, only for Chaudry to slaughter her in sloppiest and most undignified way imaginable.
Strange that Persephone somehow made this judgment ... while being literally murdered. And yet, she did. Oh, she was in her body for the first three or four strikes, to be sure--she felt every moment of terror, panic, and pain. She felt her heart explode from the stabbings and her breath rattle its last. She felt the blood drain from her brain as her dead eyes stared up at the weaselly little face of her killer.
But then, there she was, observing there whole thing, her perspective slowly drifting away from her body. She saw the hellhound stirring behind Chaudry, responding to her sloppy sacrifice, suggesting that Chaudry does not control this creature, but only bribes it with sacrifices such as her. She wondered, But why? How? And...
Her post-mortem reverie was cut short when she felt a sharp tug, then another. Something was pulling on her... her mind? Her soul? Suddenly she was torn from the caves at great speed. Earth and stone and darkness flew past her rapidly as she was pulled through what seemed like miles and miles of earth, only for her to glimpse a field of stars against the vastness of outer space, followed by darkness.
When she awoke...or was again aware (can souls sleep?), she found herself embodied once more, in her familiar Persephone flesh suit. Why did I just think of my body as a flesh suit? Ew, gross!
She sat up and found herself dressed in sharp business attire, sitting on a cream colored, minimalist sofa in a luxe penthouse office waiting room. The decor reminded her of her own condo, in fact, but somehow even more expensive. A pro looking woman with an impossibly tight bun stood across from her, holding a clipboard. The woman spoke, her voice a difficult to place mid-Atlantic accent, with perfect, almost exaggerated enunciation. In her clipped and intensely controlled voice, she said, "Persephone Mei Zhang, welcome to Hell. As this is your first visit, you have earned an audience with The Master. You will be relieved to hear The Master will be adopting Their "agreeable" presentation for your audience. This is due to the fact that your profound incompetence when facing the other party has relieved our Adversaries of any concern about your allegiance and, thus, rendered The Master sufficient plausible deniability. What's more, through your eyes, our organization has gained a glimpse of the purpose and practices of the opposing party as well as the infernal presence accompanying said party. Thus, you seem to have avoided a more severe reaction, despite yourself. Now, if you will follow me? And please, conduct yourself with the utmost respect--The Master may be eternal, but Their time is nonetheless infinitely valuable. You are encouraged to feel honored by this opportunity to bathe in Their Presence.
With that, the unnamed woman led Persephone through a byzantine series of corporate spaces, every one of them of the highest quality and style, but all of them entirely lacking in humanity. Rooms with dozens of identical looking faceless humanoids typing in unison, vast cavernous office spaces with seemingly endless file cabinets stretching further than her eyes could see, with what must have been millions of imps flitting about filing and retrieving papers. And a maze-like array of pneumatic tubes running everywhere, like a gigantic, organic infestation that had grown throughout the many rooms and structures, with capsule shaped containers zipping to and fro, containing all manner of papers, objects, even moving things. Overall the experience was staggering with its extreme corporate aesthetic, its weirdly antiquated technology, and its utterly dehumanizing lack of anything resembling human life or flourishing.
They walked for some time, as if they had to cross multiple city blocks of massive corporate installations to reach their destination. Never once did she see a window, or a human being, though she did catch glimpses of demonic beings here and there. Instead, she saw white boards, styrofoam coffee cups, purple-inked mimeographed papers, carbon copies, old bakelite phones and mechanical typewriters, mail carts moving of their own accord, fluorescent lighting, and tasteful, high-end, but soulless corporate decor everywhere.
After some time, they arrived in a different area, in which the decor took on a decidedly more executive air. Persephone glimpsed luxuriant, dark wood paneling, caught the smell of cigars and scotch, and heard the low murmur of domineering voices behind closed doors. Finally, they arrived at a vast executive office, where the unnamed woman brought Persephone through several security doors, scanners and detectors of various sorts, and beyond several heavily guarded security checkpoints, finally to arrive at an elevator door.
She pushed the singular button on the panel next to the elevator and the doors opened. She turned and looked at Persephone, who tentatively stepped in, overwhelmed by the weirdness of it all. The doors closed and the sensation of movement was present, though she could not tell in what direction she was moving at all.
She had a moment to herself, and she could not help but think that the whole experience in Hell had been utterly absurd thus far, like a weird episode of Twin Peaks, or a Terry Gilliam film, or some kind of satirical dystopian office horror crossing Mad Men with Cthulhu.
The door opened to a sprawling office space the size of a stadium, with wood paneled walls decorated with masterpieces form human history, marble pillars bearing statues of the greatest works of art of all time, and more. Without even realizing it, Persephone found herself walking across the vast space, the clack of her shoes on the marble floor, and then suddenly she was seated in a high back, leather padded arm chair. Across from her, in a similar chair, lounged what seemed to be a white male, with an unkempt beard, wearing a dirty tee shirt, cheap dark sunglasses, and a fluffy bathrobe.
He slid the sunglasses down his nose and spoke, his voice friendly and affable, but distinctively Californian. He smiled and said, Persephone! Pers! It's good to see you in the ...well, not the flesh! I'll be the mouth of your Master today. You like? It's a form our specialists determined would be friendly and familiar to you, you know? So anyways. Babe. You screwed up, yeah? Like, royally. Let's see... This dude began to recount the many failings and poor decisions she had made recently. So listen, hon, here's the sitch. You don't go making unauthorized deals, first of all. That's a no-no. Second, you don't go revealing your allegiances to strangers, unless, you know, you do it in a really cool way. You gotta represent the side well, you know? Not like you did. Oof! So anyway, here's the thing: we're coming to the climax of our most recent five-century plan, and we're spinning a lot of plates, you know what I mean? Lotta balls in the air right now. So it would help if you didn't.. you know... throw any wrenches in things. Oh heaven, I'm mixing my metaphors again, aren't I? Oh well. Anyway, just, do what your handler tells you to do, mmkay? But look, I'll tell you this, you somehow managed to helps us out, ok? And I can see that you wanna take the initiative, maybe take on some more responsibility. And I appreciate that! I really do! But you're a mess, hon, and in no position to do so. Still, I'll instruct your handler to be more forthcoming with information, so you won't feel quite so left out, mmkay? 'Cause you know what? I saw what you did with Henry. And with Kal’verrak'thurazel. I like that! keep doing that! Ok, now get outta here!"
And suddenly Persephone felt the nauseating feeling of being transported at light speed across vast distances once again, but this time she felt as if she was slammed into the earth like a sledgehammer hitting stone. BOOM!
She sat up, her head spinning, and found herself in her bed, in her condo, naked, the dawn sun just coming up over the horizon. had it all been a dream??? She looked down at her chest, where she had been stabbed, and saw five or six pale, thin white gashes where the dagger had struck her. She rose in a daze and, in autopilot, took a shower and tried to process what had just occurred. She had died, she knew. She had gone to some kind of other place. Hell, maybe. And met... the Dude? And now she was back.
Suddenly, it hit her like a punch. When her patron had withdrawn their favor, Persephone turned back into a normal human! She was still a normal human underneath all this! And she had a soul! She... she would need time to process, especially since she kept having vivid, disturbing flashbacks to being murdered.
What was she going to do??
