Chapter Twelve

As the evening's entertainment settled, several guests headed to their assigned rooms to retire for the night. What few remained awake were either drinking, talking politics, or just plain lost. The gigantic tower was like a labyrinth at night. The dark halls seemed to become endless when enveloped in the shadow of the moon. Of course, Aeron and the Demons had no trouble at all finding their way around. However, for the mortal guests, finding their accommodations became an exhausting ordeal, especially for Zia Lombardi. "Dammit," the ambassador cursed as she pressed her hand against one of the walls. "I just had to go and make a wrong turn," she sighed as she tried to find her way through the identical rooms and hallways—this was an annoying problem she had. Be it Heaven or Hell, to her, everywhere looked the same. "God, you mind giving a girl a hand?" Zia thought as she fumbled through her pockets for the keys to her suite. Usually, she'd have one of her guards carry it. However, for security reasons, all non-guests had to stay outside of the primary embassy.

Thank God the Demons had the best security equipment in the realms, or she would've had to file a formal complaint. And nothing would ruin her day more than arguing with some bureaucrat over safety procedures. "This fuckin building is giving me a headache," Zia thought as she finally stumbled upon her designated room. The place was very simplistic; the entire flat consisted of just a small bed and bathroom. If their hosts had placed any other diplomat here, they would've been insulted by the room's shockingly poor quality. However, she expected this. After all, out of all the ambassadors attending the summit, she was at the bottom of the proverbial ladder. As she collapsed into the bed's soft sheets, she removed the pin holding her hair together and allowed her red locks to flow over the bedding. As she lay there, she reached into her pocket and grabbed her pistol. After staring at it for a few moments, she sighed and placed the weapon on her bedside table. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to use it.

"Well, what should I do now?" Zia asked herself as she pouted at the ceiling. Unlike most in Heaven, she was quite the restless soul; she always needed something to distract her. Her natural curiosity certainly didn't help. "I should probably go wash myself off," she said as she gently started to rub her face. Her makeup was beginning to get to her. Most modern concealers and foundations were far too irritating for her sensitive skin. She could thank the burning flames of Hell for that. With a sigh, she got up and meandered over to the sink. The faucet and handle were carved from ivory, while the actual basin appeared to be rough granite. The cool water felt amazing, and as she rubbed off the multiple coats of window dressing, her true face slowly revealed itself. The seared flesh hidden away under layers of makeup looked just as horrid as ever, and she couldn't forget the putrid pus-filled boils!

"The features of an Ascended never ceases to amaze," she thought. In a way, it was almost funny. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she scrubbed, she would never be able to heal her wounds. But it wasn't all bad; that's what the makeup was for, after all. Plus, even though her true face was quite a horrific sight, its sensitivity more than made up for her loss. The exposed nerves could feel anything, from the slightest change in temperature to the amount of dust in the air. Heck, if a noise was loud enough, she could even detect the sound waves bumping against her cheeks. When she was sneaking through the final circles, this odd form of echolocation was necessary to avoid the Demons that were stalking her.

With a yawn, Zia flung her hair aside and practically leaped back onto the bed. Now, at this point, any decent denizen of Heaven would get down on their knees to give a small prayer to thank God for his mercy and to ask for good fortune in the coming day. However, Zia did not do this. She gave up on praying the day she was damned. Down in that unholy pit of rape, torture, fire, and pain, what little faith she had was squeezed out of her. "Now that I think about it," she thought as she snuggled into the sheets, "why did God forgive me?" Maybe it was because of her determination, or perhaps she was just lucky. "Eh… that's a question for another day," the young ambassador murmured to herself as she drifted off unconscious.

Sadly, even though she loved to sleep, she wasn't very good at it. Thanks to her time in Hell, even the slightest jolt or hum would be enough to wake her. "It's going to be another one of those nights, huh?" Zia mumbled as she rubbed her sore temples and turned to her room's window. It was still dark outside, and her alarm hadn't gone off—which meant that something had woken her up. "Here's to another restless morning." She was so tired that she couldn't even put up the effort to roll her eyes. "I'm going to have to make some coffee." Zia tried her best to force herself back into dreamland, but that was a futile endeavor. "Dammit, this must be my punishment for not praying," she hissed as she lifted herself from the bed, raising her middle finger towards the sky as she did so. "I know you want me to have faith, but do you have to be such an ass about it?" God must've heard her whining because, just moments later, the rumbling of passing thunder rocked the building. She wouldn't be getting her beauty sleep now. No amount of praying would make that noise go away. And so, with nothing better to do, she got up and watched the storm batter the landscape. The rain was coming down in buckets and showed no signs of stopping. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the dense forests below with every bolt.

Zia sighed and walked over to her bedside table. In an instant, she picked up her pistol and quickly dismantled it. "Well, it's not an amazing way to pass the time, but it'll do." This way, she could be somewhat productive—now if it could just be a bit more entertaining! Who would've thought that cleaning a pistol in the dead of night would be so heart-wrenchingly boring? "Dammit, this is horrible!" She was nearly about to rip her teeth out! There was just nothing to do when everyone else was off dozing! And for someone like her, being bored was torture nearly on par with Hell's scorching flames. "Ah, screw it! It isn't like anybody will see me." With nothing else to do, Zia grabbed her coat and rushed out the door. A quick walk always helped to calm her nerves. Granted, in a place like this, she couldn't go far without setting off an alarm. Thankfully, the massive lobbies and central halls weren't walled off. A few laps in the main ballroom would do her some good. With a smile, Zia quietly drifted into the large lobby and started to pace. Her mind was moving at a mile a minute, and for all the wrong reasons. "They need to replace that tile," she thought as she stared at the floor's single grey panel in a sea of white marble.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she stopped to rest at one of the many velvet benches. She yawned and pulled out a small pocket watch from her coat as she rubbed her aching legs. It was just past two. "Damn… the nights here sure do drag on!" Zia whispered harshly to herself, closing the watch and slipping it back into its home. Even after pacing for hours, she still wasn't tired! Insomnia was a bitch. After waiting for a few more minutes, she sighed and got up from her seat. Whining about her problems here would solve nothing. At the very least, she could complain in her room. As she slowly wandered back, she grinned and scratched her sore cheek. It was at times like this that she was glad nobody could see her. That spot was bothering her all day! Moving carefully through the shadows, Zia eventually came upon the entrance to the ballroom. She wrapped her hand around the handle, and after a deep breath, began to pull. However, just as the door cracked open, Zia stopped herself. Someone else was there with her; she could feel it.

"Alright, I'll call her soon. Just make sure all the guests are asleep." Zia's eyes narrowed when she heard that voice. It belonged to Dr. Leeson. What was he doing up at this hour? Unless, of course, he was nocturnal, but she doubted that was the case. "Is anybody in the ballroom?" she heard the Demon say as he neared the doorway. Suddenly, her instincts took hold, and she dived behind one of the pillars. The second the ambassador got the chance, she aimed her gun right at the Demon's head.

"Old habits die hard," she thought as she holstered her weapon. She wasn't in Hell anymore. She couldn't just shoot Dr. Leeson without justification. Not unless she wanted her ambassadorship revoked. So instead, she relied on her senses. She could feel Dr. Leeson's footsteps as he walked into the lobby. She could hear his heartbeat grow louder and louder with every slight movement. And, of course, that meant she knew where he was going. There was a reason he was here, and she was going to find out what that was.

Years of practice in Hell had transformed her into a masterful thief. So, her footsteps were almost undetectable to untrained ears. For her, shadowing a Demon was child's play. As she glided effortlessly along the tiled surface after the devil, Dr. Leeson took out a small transmitter. "Is he going to make a call?" Zia thought as she hid in the darkness. The Demon was especially careful, constantly checking over his shoulder for unwanted eyes, making him exceedingly difficult to approach. "Jeez… just get to where you're going already!" The wait was excruciating. She may have been a master thief, but that didn't mean she had patience.

"Hey, you know who this is. Connect me to the Ninth Circle," Dr. Leeson spoke as he inserted the transmitter into his ear. Even when he thought nobody was around, the Demon kept his volume down to a minimum. Whatever this call was about, it must be important. As her pursuit continued, she eventually followed the brute into the gardens at the tower's base. The devil proceeded to step over the stone path and went through the woods to hide in a small, well-hidden cave. To avoid detection, she kept her distance, going no further than the clearing's entrance. Once she was in a good position, she knelt beside a nearby tree and listened. "Boss, I've got good news, but I'm not certain that we have the resources to take advantage of it," Dr. Leeson whispered, his voice so soft that it was practically inaudible. She had a feeling that this was the juicy part. As Zia strained to make sense of the Demon's ramblings, she neglected the soft sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.

"Come on, you bastard, squeal," she mumbled as she pressed her ear against the cave's mouth. However, right when she thought she had him, Zia felt a hand grab her shoulder. "Shit!" she cursed as she whipped out her pistol and turned around. She couldn't tell who it was in the dark, but that didn't matter. All she needed was a target. In the blink of an eye, she cocked her weapon's hammer and pulled the trigger. However, to her surprise, no bullet exited the barrel. All that left the chamber was a small puff of smoke and ash. "Oh no!" Zia panicked as she frantically searched for a weapon to defend herself. "Did I forget to refill the clip?!" She shook her head. Losing her nerve would accomplish nothing. Right now, she had to focus on finding a weapon. After a few moments of searching, her keen eyes discovered a small iron fencepost glinting in the moonlight. "Ah, this will do!" she thought as she tore the makeshift spear out of the ground. However, before she could attack, the mysterious figure who'd caught her stepped out into the open air.

"You know—if we want to hear what that Demon is saying—we shouldn't be making all of this noise," the man said. Zia swore her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"You're one of the ambassadors!" she frantically whispered as she stared at the man. What was his name again? She heard some of her comrades mention it. After a few seconds, Zia finally recalled his name. "Aeron Weber!"

Twelve years ago...

I finally made it! After ages spent slogging through bureaucratic and administrative hell, God has finally granted me an ambassadorship. The position only represents the lower sectors and carries little to no political weight, but it's something! Hell, I think I deserve an award! There aren't many Ascended to start with, but one gaining an official position in Heaven's government is unheard-of! However, I beat the odds and made it!

Sadly, now it's time for the hard part. An ambassador's workload is nothing to scoff at, and I'm sure it'll be excruciating at times, but that doesn't matter. I need to be sure to do my best to help the bottom levels! Otherwise, none of us will ever be able to advance in this society. Down here in Heaven's gutters, there's barely any respectable or well-paying jobs. Many of my friends have terms in the upper thousands with no way to pay them off! And I'm no exception. Thanks to my hellish background, my quota is also unbelievably high. One million years is simply cruel, right? Although, with my new position, my wish may not be so far off. It'll take some time and a lot of effort, but I do not doubt that I'll be able to accomplish my goals.