Chapter Twenty-Five

The way Zia carried herself in a debate was nothing short of magical. In just a few short minutes, she convinced nearly half of the representatives—demons included—to accept the proposed draft. Something that, if left to him, would've taken hours to do. "When it comes to public speaking, she sure is gifted," the Templar thought as he watched the ambassador move to her next central talking point.

"This issue is a major one for all of the realms," she continued. "Where we send our damned is not something to be taken lightly. However, the terms on which we send them are also important." Aeron's eyes narrowed when he heard that; just where was this woman taking this? "For us to continue working together, Heaven must be more lenient with how it makes its decisions," she finished.

"Jeremy…" Aeron started as he spoke into his receiver, "are you hearing this?" He knew that something was wrong before the operator could even connect.

"Yeah, I am," the man said while Aeron heard him type fervently in the background. "You might want to stop her. I've got a feeling that she's about to say something stupid." Oh great, that was just what he needed.

"The steps required to accomplish these lofty goals will be massive, but they are necessary. If we want to make our universe a truly cohesive unit, we must recognize the poor living standards of our people and work together to improve them."

"Ah hell." This wasn't going to end well. It appeared that Ms. Lombardi was using the contract to advocate for her constituents. "I should probably stop her," Aeron thought while quickly connecting his transmitter to Zia's. "You might want to quit while you're ahead," he said. "Otherwise, there'll be hell to pay once we get back home." The leading diplomats would not be happy if she used this to dodge their roadblocks. To put it simply—by openly speaking in this situation—she was stirring up a hornets' nest.

"Hey, this is an eye for an eye. I negotiate for you, and in return, I get a platform to address the summit." Aeron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He forgot that Zia was a master politician. Give her some bait, and she'd latch on and never let go. "Now, as I was saying," she continued as she turned her attention to the other delegates, "problems will occur with a system like ours. And Heaven is no exception to this rule. Our rigid caste system completely blocks any chance for lower-ranked souls to rise to God's garden, and if you couple this with the whole ascension system, you get a cesspool of crime and discrimination. Issues like this should be a focal point for future summits, and all races and realms need to work together towards a solution. Don't forget that Heaven and Hell are the centers of our universe. If we want the current balance to remain stable, we need to ensure that both sides fulfill their responsibilities without fail. Hell punishes the sinners, and Heaven welcomes the saints. Or, at least, that's how it should be."

"Ms. Lombardi, are you suggesting that we amend the current contract?" Satan asked her. Aeron prayed that wasn't the case. He knew that Zia meant well, but he hoped the woman had the foresight to recognize that she was swimming straight into shark-infested waters. The ambassadors from the upper levels looked like they were about to explode. And, honestly, he couldn't blame them.

"The poor fools are being upstaged," he thought. Zia was practically an unknown speaker, and there she was stealing all the attention and, therefore, all the votes. He didn't doubt that—after this summit—she would be invited to many more meetings like this.

"From what I can gather, she sounds like a natural talent. Much better than you," Jeremy joked as Aeron heard something big and heavy come crashing down in the operator's office. "Ah hell," the man mumbled.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Whatever fell must've been significant and fragile.

"Don't worry—it was just a prototype that I've been working on." For a second, Aeron thought that the man was crying.

"Has the Minister put you on overtime again?" Aeron asked Jeremy as he absentmindedly watched Zia continue her lengthy speech. "Jeez… you'd think at this point she'd come up for air," he thought.

"Nah," Jeremy spoke, "for once, the Minister's giving me some time off. However, I can't say the same about the councilmembers. All of them have been stressed lately, and they won't tell me why."

"Do you think this summit has them worried?" Aeron asked him.

"No, I think the contract you're pushing is the least of their concerns. Whatever it is, something has got them watching their backs. Maybe they've finally realized that everyone here hates them." Aeron scoffed. If only that were the reason.

"They'd have to be self-aware for that to happen. And we both know that that's an impossibility." Heaven's leading members were not known for their sense of logic. That said, the behavior Jeremy described was still abnormal. "Has the Minister said anything? Maybe he let something slip?" Sadly, Jeremy had nothing. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Jeremy, but this situation reeks. Even Malcolm would smell something fishy," Aeron whispered as his friend whined. He already knew all of this.

"Yeah, this whole development doesn't sit right with me, but that's my problem. I'll get back to you when I know more. Besides that, how's the summit going?" he asked as Aeron turned his attention to the conference hall. Zia had mostly finished her spiel about the contract, and Satan was preparing for the next vote.

"I guess this means I owe you one," Aeron told Zia as the ambassador returned to her seat. She didn't say anything, but her smug look told him everything he needed to know. That woman sure loved the limelight—that much was certain.

"Satan's going to give her opinion on the issue, and then we'll vote. Besides the delegates from Heaven—who we know will vote yes—I've mostly convinced the other realms' representatives to support the draft," Zia told him, her voice overflowing with confidence.

"I'm impressed," Aeron replied, "but be sure to watch your back. Your two guard dogs can only do so much." Compared to the power and resources the ambassadors from the upper levels controlled, she was little more than a fly.

"Oh my, could it be that you're worried about me?" she teased as Aeron sneered. "You don't need to concern yourself—I'll be careful. Remember, I spent years dodging Demons and crawling through the Nine Circles. Trust me; those old bastards won't be a problem." That carefree attitude of hers was going to bite her one day. Then again, he wasn't in a position to criticize her for it.

"She sounds a lot like you," Jeremy added as Aeron tried his best to tune out the man's relentless teasing. "Aww, that's adorable. Are you ignoring me?" he said in the most insufferable tone he could manage. Before going any further, Aeron switched his transmitter off and tossed it into one of his coat pockets.

"Ugh… I'm getting another headache." Too much Jeremy was detrimental to his health. Any more and a full-blown migraine would assault him.

"Ms. Lombardi has a point," Satan started as she brought a few graphs up on the screen. All of them displayed Hell's yearly soul intake, and the trend they were depicting was insane. "While this contract is a necessity now, it will soon become outdated. Like it or not, my realm has been forced to take in far too many souls—more than we can handle."

"That sure is strange," Aeron thought as he looked over the data. Surprisingly, a few souls were processed by somebody other than him, which meant that God was doing his job. However, if these numbers were correct, virtually eighty percent of the souls not judged by him ended up damned. "Maybe the old man's finally gotten tired of dealing with his children's bullshit," he wondered. He wasn't the only one who found this suspicious. Several of the other ambassadors also looked very confused.

"That's larger than usual, is it not?" one of the neighboring Drakes asked him.

"Yeah… it is." He had to be careful not to say too much. "This is way higher than the last few centuries." Its question answered, the Drake thanked him and nodded its head. "Don't mention it," Aeron said as he turned his attention to Dr. Leeson and the other head ambassadors. None of them looked particularly stunned, which meant that Satan had probably briefed them on the matter beforehand. "Could this be what the Minister and councilmen were so worried about?" the Cherub thought before shaking his head. He didn't have any evidence to support that claim. But if his theory was correct…

"You sure looked shocked. What? Did you finally find God?" Zia joked as Aeron rolled his fingers against his desk. Right now, what he needed was information.

"I certainly found something," he thought as a few diplomats started to fire off a string of unwanted questions.

"You're the Templar, aren't you? Do you know anything about this?" they asked, practically yelling right into his ear. "What is the Bureau thinking?!" Aeron couldn't help but rub his temples in frustration—if he knew there would be no need for all this confusion.

"Now, now, all of you, calm down. Try to give Heaven's ambassadors some space. They don't know much about this issue." Aeron was shocked. Satan, a Demon, was trying to be a voice of reason. Was he living through some sort of sick joke?

"It looks like you're getting swarmed down there," Zia said as Aeron flopped back into his seat. That was an understatement; the diplomats' questioning was more akin to a rabid feeding frenzy.

"You aren't helping," he hissed. For once, Zia's rivalry with the upper levels was proving quite beneficial. Thanks to the other ambassadors' interference, she was sent to a row with very few neighbors. So, unlike Aeron and Heaven's other delegates, she wasn't being interrogated. "Since I'm stuck here, why don't you make yourself useful and do me a favor?"

"Like what? Don't forget that I'm a politician. Favors from people like me don't come cheap." Aeron scowled—at least she was being honest.

"I want you to look into the rising number of damnations. The Minister and the councilmembers haven't told me anything. That means I will have to resort to more backhanded methods," he told the ambassador as she scratched her chin.

"And I'm assuming that I'm one of those methods?" Aeron nodded. They were partners, after all. "Well… I won't lie and say that I'm not interested, but are you sure about this? If the Minister finds out that you went behind his back, it could jeopardize your position." Aeron chuckled when he heard that. The Bureau couldn't afford to fire him now. He was far too powerful and efficient to be tossed aside like some rookie.

"If that happens, I'll figure something out. But we both know how serious this is. At this rate, Hell will be full within the next two centuries—I'd like to avoid that." After a few more moments, Zia gave in and accepted his proposal. "Thank God, that's one thing out of the way," the Cherub thought as he watched Satan whisper something to Dr. Leeson. "Damn… if only I could read lips," he hissed.

"That devil is probably discussing her next move," Zia said as she got up from her chair and stretched. The seats in the back row were criminally uncomfortable. She would rather sit on a pile of rocks than spend one more second in that accursed spot.

"Oh really?" Aeron mumbled as he hurried to join her. The only issues left to debate didn't have to do with Heaven or Hell, so he could safely ignore them. "What do you think the Antichrist will do next?" he asked her as the pair leaned against one of the many stone columns.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Zia shrugged. She had no idea what went through that monster's head. Right now, Satan was the least of her worries. "After the contract is finalized and accepted, both of us should hit the books." The information they were looking for would probably be classified. "I'm hoping that you'll be able to pull a few strings, partner." In this situation, her meager political sway would be practically useless. So, at least for the time being, they'd have to rely on Aeron's position in the Bureau to keep moving forward.

"Again, as I said before, I'll see what I can do," he whispered as the summit finally started to wind down. After a few closing remarks from Dr. Leeson and the other top ambassadors, Satan walked up to the central pedestal to officially end the event.

"This concludes the annual summit. If anyone has an appointment with me or one of the head delegates, they can come and meet us in the main hall," she announced as her eyes slowly skimmed over the crowd of representatives. Eventually, her gaze fell upon Aeron. And, for a second, the Cherub felt his wings quiver. It was something about her eyes. Those serpentine pupils just sent a chill down his spine. "Well… it looks like your Angelic instinct isn't completely dead. You're still somewhat wary of me," the Demon thought as diplomats poured out of the conference hall.

"Hey, Aeron, are you okay?" Zia asked the Angel, who was as still as a statue. Once he realized what he was doing, the judge shook his head and tore himself from Satan's view.

"Nah… it's nothing," he said as he stared at one of his hands. For a moment—when their eyes met—Aeron felt his heart start to beat like thunder. "I should probably try to avoid her from now on." He wasn't stupid; his body was trying to warn him. When faced with the Antichrist, any Angel would feel the same. But why was he only getting this feeling now?

"It's said that the fumes from the many thermal vents here can cause horrific hallucinations and feelings of panic," Zia told him as she placed a hand on the judge's shoulder. "It gets to everyone eventually. Don't let it go to your head." Aeron scoffed. Thermal vents… was that all it was?

"Hmm." Maybe Zia was right. Perhaps Hell's toxic air was affecting him. "Let's just hurry up and get this contract accepted," he exclaimed as he waltzed out into the lobby. Right now, something strange was happening in the Bureau. He couldn't afford to waste any more time here. "Do you know who I should give this to?" he asked Zia as he held up the locked briefcase. During her speech, Satan had an attendant return the contract to him.

"No idea, but you better find out quickly. Remember, we've got places to be," she spoke as she shook her head. Aeron nodded—there was so much to do and so little time. If only God could use a little bit of his magic to give them a miracle. But Aeron knew that was impossible. After all, the Almighty was a creator. He didn't dabble in that sort of business. At least, not for small fry like them.

Fifty-two years ago...

Today I had the pleasure of experiencing one of the finer aspects of mortal life. Of course, I am talking about war. An empire from northern China just invaded the village I was staying in, and now everything has gone straight to hell. Rape, murder, theft, it's all the same. However—thanks to the country's huge population—it's on a scale I've never seen before. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers roamed the streets, rounding up civilians before putting them to the sword. Women and children were butchered, and the men who weren't killed were sold off to slavery. Of course, during this gigantic display of sin and iniquity, I was watching from the sidelines. I was constantly embroiled in some aspect of the carnage. One moment I was masquerading as a soldier, while the next, I was one of the slaves being carted off to the coast. In every direction I looked, one of the seven deadly sins was there to greet me. However, it wasn't all bad. For even in the darkest of corners, I could usually find one or two good souls.

Amongst this blazing chaos, there was one man who caught my interest. I couldn't get his name, but I found out he was a medic. While his comrades pillaged and torched towns, he did his best to heal the sick and injured. That said, every person he healed was eventually executed—but it's the thought that counts. When his commanding officer caught him treating an enemy soldier, he had the man killed. I'm sure that he'll end up in God's garden. Saints like that usually do. Although, the same couldn't be said about the villagers. All of them would probably be allocated to the second or third levels. The other soldiers, however, would all be spending some quality time in the Almighty's basement. And I was the one who would make that happen. While they were all asleep, I sent a swarm of fleas into their tents. Over the next few days, all of them contracted some sort of plague. Before the war ended, half of the soldiers had already passed on. There were a few lucky ones who managed to survive the sickness, and I left them alone. When I finally rehabilitate this horrid planet, those survivors' time will come.