TheLittlePenmen

Captain Elizabeth Vinea - an officer with the 3rd Reconnaissance Squadron has been tasked with a retrieval mission.

Her team of four, are two occupy the ruined township of Lycoa and unearth the entrance to a demonic gate reportedly located underneath the now devastated city.

Reports indicated a relic from within the gate is to be retrieved at all costs.

"Intel's here and there, not much to go on, I know. Nevertheless, I'm entrusting this mission to you Cpt. Vinea. We need bodies on the field, and we need them immediately." The Colonel handed over the mission brief to the saluting officer.

"Understood, Colonel, we depart for Lycoa at once." 

"Godspeed."

The captain left with her new orders in hand, the colonel - once the doors to his office were close: snickered, and begrudged:

"...Damned demons...what could they be plotting now..." before continuing on with his desk-work.

**I will be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com**
Profile Link: https://www.royalroad.com/profile/637280

We Who Aren't They

"Huh?" I perked up my head. Trying to remember what I did last.

I got up. Inspecting myself. No injuries to note.

"Good. Saves me the trouble. Besides, someone has to get shit done around here."

With more questions, than answers. I fell into this melancholic state. And well, wiping my face clean, I could've sworn tears fell from my eyes.

 I wanted to get back to HQ as quickly as possible. I'm sick and tired of these stupid missions.

"And there's my ticket out of this dump." I was alluding to what stood before me.

With nary a bit of doubt, I proceeded to enter.

The skies of hell always had this reddish tincture about them. It consistently managed to depress the living shit out of me.

It's also the atmospherically pressure here that's quite troublesome. It's much stronger than what we're accustomed to on Earth; something like four times that planet's gravity.

<em>Shoulders stiffened from the sudden change of it.</em>

Humans have an extremely hard time merely walking the planes. understandable, I guess.

I remember this one military scholar thinking hell was beneath them, so naturally; being closer to the planetary core of their homeland, the gravity's pull would too be stronger.

"Hah! I remember that! Old codger thought hell was below them! The fool!" 

The number inscribed upon the runes encircling the gate demarked the number 15 in Demon Speak.

"Good. It's just the ghouls, then. 15 heads in all."

The Law Of Equivalent Trespassings