Hell's One: They're Mine! (Past Arc)

Note: This chapter is set in the past and doesn't center on the current timeline of the story. Reading this chapter isn't mandatory for understanding the story, but it would enhance the overall experience. The choice is yours. (Canon)

"One's dreams and idols are the only beacons of light within any dark room, for it is a break from one's grim reality"

A dog comes bounding down the stairs, its tongue lolling out in excitement.

Reacting swiftly, Lisa scoops up the dog before it can approach the burning Persephone, shielding it from harm.

"Take care of Mojo, please," Persephone pleads, her voice weakened by the flames that consume her. "I may be a Devil, but I cherish these small joys that you humans experience. Sanders always opposed the idea of me having a dog, but Mojo was just too damn cute..."

With her final breaths, Persephone's form disintegrates into ash, consumed by the inferno that engulfs the apartment building.

In the end, she has met her demise.

Persephone once despised the fires of Hades, and now, she shall fall to those very flames once again.

Back Within Captain Aiden's Helicopter, Along With Captain Wyatt...

"We are now hovering over the city. We should be able to reach the Devil Hunting establishment sooner rather than later," Aiden says.

"Good. That's about the only positive thing that has happened today. What the hell were those walls?!" Wyatt asks.

"I don't know, but I informed Captain Elias to get there as soon as possible. I heard he went through a terrorist attack, identical to what we faced within the warehouse. We survived, but judging from his shaky voice that I heard through the telecoms, I wouldn't be so optimistic about how his body is doing," Aiden says.

Wyatt then rises from his seat to open the helicopter's door assembly.

It's like staring at the beauty of horror, even though it's truly horrific.

He understands that it's unsettling and disturbing, but amidst this darkness, he discovers a glimmer of beauty.

Even in war, there's a certain allure.

Streams of smoke curling upward from areas engulfed in flames.

Places ravaged by so much destruction that their cement dust hangs in the air.

Despite the night, the sky has an eerie orange tinge, stained by the mist of blood that emanated from the "eye incident".

The streets are eerily silent, devoid of any signs of life.

If it weren't for the faint scent of decay lingering in the air, one might mistake the deserted streets for a graveyard.

"This city used to be vibrant, you know?" Wyatt remarks. "It's just strange how you encouraged him to check out those walls, even after he'd been through a terrorist attack. He was clearly injured, so poking around could've easily cost him his life. How insensitive can you be?!"

"Don't do this, Wyatt. We couldn't have done it ourselves since we faced a terrorist attack too, but we just didn't sustain anything major to our bodies, somehow, which is something that still doesn't make any sense to me. Even if we hadn't died, we should've at least gotten a couple of injuries", Aiden says.

Has Fate once again intervened to deflect a bullet?

"Divine intervention?" Wyatt queries.

"No, definitely not. Something less holy; perhaps, something infernal," Aiden replies.

An eerie silence descends upon the scene.

Wyatt subsequently closes the helicopter's assembly door and takes a seat beside Aiden.

In the chaos of conflict, tranquility can still be discovered. Whether on the battlefield or in the mundane disputes of daily life, moments of peace are always within reach.

"Couldn't we have just teleported there?" Wyatt wonders.

"Travelling by land would have exposed us to potential traps set by this 'Sanders'. He's cunning. I can't quite grasp his personality, it's like he has many layers," Aiden explains. "He also seems to be intelligent, considering how he tricked us."

Five more minutes pass in utter silence until they finally reach the Devil Hunting establishment.

There it looms before them.

Even in its presence, silence reigns.

A gaping hole in the building, large enough to accommodate an aircraft, beckons them, and they fly the helicopter into it.

Beyond the hole lies a carved-out pathway, a testament to the destruction wrought upon the building.

Though there are casualties, the number of dead bodies is not as high as expected.

It appears the Neo-Geisters targeted the laboratory, as most of the casualties are found there.

Aiden shares a silent nod with Wyatt, conveying their unspoken agreement.

With purpose, Wyatt rises and opens the helicopter's assembly door once more, leaping onto the third story where the laboratory and imprisonment area await.

Aiden guides the helicopter away, seeking a suitable landing spot.

Wyatt decides to enter the laboratory first in search of any survivors.

A scanner on the wall next to the door greets him.

Without hesitation, he extends his tongue and licks the scanner, gaining access to the laboratory.

Left, right, left, right.

Akin to the steady rhythm of a metronome.

Slivers of Dark Matter emanate from two of the bodies amidst the graveyard that the laboratory has become.

"You're safe now! Let me help you all, you poor souls," Wyatt assures as he approaches the bodies.

However, his attention is abruptly drawn away by a urgent call from his earpiece.

Aiden's voice blasts through, "Come over now! The imprisonment area, immediately!"

Wyatt ignores the near-dead bodies within the laboratory and sprints towards the imprisonment area.

"Please, no. Please don't die. Please don't let it be what I think it is," Wyatt mutters to himself as he runs.

Fear grips him, clutching at his heart like a child lost in the dark.

Suffocation.

Finally, Wyatt reaches the imprisonment area, its door blown off its hinges.

Aiden stands just outside the door frame, his expression tense with apprehension.

Fear.

Wyatt joins Aiden at the door frame and peers into the area.

It was Sanders.

There stands Sanders, licking the bars that hold Zane and Emma captive.

"It's you again. You're smart, y'know?" Aiden remarks, his voice tinged with admiration. "Especially with those hyperrealistic holograms."

Sanders looks up towards them and smiles.

"What holograms?" he retorts, his grin widening.

Silence envelops the room once again, thick with tension and unease.

They weren't holograms; they were nothing but real, sorrowful lives.

"You sick fuck! You toy with lives as if they're mere pawns on a chessboard!" he exclaims.

"Hey now, let's not get too hostile. Those lives were meaningless anyway. They joined me willingly, seeking an escape from their pathetic, sad lives" Sanders retorts callously. "I merely relieved them of their pain"

Aiden steps forward cautiously, his expression a mix of concern and determination.

Sanders points a threatening finger at him. "No sudden moves. One step closer and one of them pays the price. I won't specify who, but rest assured, I value one more than the other."

Sanders doesn't place much importance on the sanctity of life. To him, life is a commodity, its worth determined by material wealth.

Materialistic wealth, as Sanders labels it, is often reduced to mere "green paper".

Yet, paradoxically, something as profound and valuable as marriage can sometimes emerge solely from materialistic wealth or that very "green paper".

Sad world, isn't it?

"I take and I take, but I don't value any of it. Isn't that right, Zane and Emma?" Sanders remarks coldly.

Aiden pieces together the puzzle with a spark of insight. "You were behind those theater massacres, weren't you? You recruited Zane and Emma. I won't even ask what age they were when you took them, but they're under your control, aren't they?"

"Sharp observation. I didn't think you'd pick up on the connection between us as a trio," Sanders replies with a smirk. "I've raised them, I orchestrated everything, and there's jackshit you can do about it."

Zane and Emma are Sanders' property, through and through.

They always will be...