"Should I be fearing for my life right now?" Blake glanced behind him, as he had been doing in regular intervals for the last ten minutes. "Just give me a warning when it comes time. I've been practicing my screaming."

"I'm hoping Phillip's going to throw something at us, but it looks like we're in the clear." My voice was not suited to growling or grumbling, but I did my best. "And Kell probably won't do a thing either. This whole revenge schtick is going to be harder than I thought."

"You could just not do it," Blake said testily.

"Sure," I said playfully, like I was actually considering his suggestion.

I noticed Blake shoot me an upset look out of the corner of my eye, but he kept quiet. Unfortunately, he didn't seem very intimidated by me or anything in Hell, but he still was being polite in case I dumped him with the same spontaneity that I had picked him up.

To be careful, and sort of to spite him, I had decided not to take the easy route by elevator back up to Greed. Running parallel to the elevator bays was a single long hall at an incline, honestly worse than a staircase. I always felt like I needed hiking boots when walking it or else I might fall backwards.

Like Greed, the level of quality greatly varied in this hallway, sometimes it was lined with walls and lights and other times it'd just be a dark and dirty passage held up by ancient wood. Hell was definitely not a well thought-out place, but that statement carried a lot of bizarre connotations. Just who out there had set expectations for Hell's architecture anyway?

The general feel for Greed, especially, was that someone had thrown a couple of doors onto the walls, slammed a few tiles onto the dirt floor, and called it a day.

My plan to pointlessly ail Blake with needless exercise was failing, as it had slipped my mind how truly weak I was. My legs ached by the time we reached Greed, I could feel myself sweating, and I had long been out of breath. They really needed to install air conditioning in this place.

Blake, meanwhile, looked as chipper as always, though apparently nearly as worn out. We had been nearly alone our entire ascent, for the good reason that is that hallway sucked. Who would willingly walk it when there were sweet, glorious elevators waiting?

"What exactly is the plan?" Blake asked, "Mind you, I'm talking about the bad one. Not the smart one that is immediately leaving."

"You can stay in my dorm room while I deal with Kell."

"Dorm room? What, are you a college student?"

"Dormitory. Collection of private rooms to stay in. I live there."

"Oh! So your work gives you a house?"

"A room. And meals. And that's all I need to live, so that's all I get."

"I'd like to make a quip like 'sounds like prison' or 'that seems sort of illegal, actually' but honestly? We're in Hell. Not too surprised by anything at this point."

Navigating Greed was a terrible game to play, reminiscent of... I don't know. Wandering a hedge maze with no dead ends? Stumbling around an airplane hanger blind and tipsy? I really only knew for certain a few places and the exit.

My dorm was essentially a hole in the wall, like one of those fancy hotels built into caves but without any of the upkeep and amenities. It was a door built into the rock and a series of carved windows in case you wanted to watch the occasional straggler pass by.

My actual room was not much bigger than my bed, and even that was built into the wall. I had a government-issued television on top of a mini fridge. My literary collection of four books was on top of the television, amassing dust.

"I'll be back at some point. Help yourself to the television."

"Did you paint this place yourself?" Blake asked, glancing about my room with clear displeasure.

"Yes." So I had. People rarely stayed in these dorms- payless work like mine was really only meant for the poor, homeless, and criminals. And they all got out eventually. I took whatever they left for myself, and one day, there had been several buckets of yellow paint.

I don't know exactly why someone had that much paint in their room, but I took it and spent the next couple of days swabbing my room in the color with someone else's old hoodie.

Now my scratchy walls were a blotchy yellow, and I had made them that way. And that meant I liked them quite a lot.

"You're supposed to use primer. And do multiple coats. It looks awful."

"I did not realize you were a certified judge of home decor."

"My mother was a painter," Blake said, like that was an excuse, "Just trying to help."

"Stop." I said, "I just want to remind you that, uh, you do realize you're in Hell? And I'm you're only way out? So treat me with respect, please." My voice did not do menacing very well.

"Would someone who didn't respect you give you their honest opinion on the quality of your interior design?" Blake said, not missing a beat, "Go do your stupid plan. I'm sort of excited for Hell television. Do you guys have like, sitcoms? Somehow the very idea of a classic american sitcom but with just, casual demons, sounds absolutely hilarious to me."

"It's mostly gossip about The Few and war stuff. We get Earth shows on one of the channels though."

"Shucks." Blake jumped onto my bed. "Ow. Man, this could be a rock and I wouldn't know the difference."

"Hey. I said you could help yourself to the TV. Stay off my bed."

"Can I get something to eat?"

I raised a finger at him warningly.

"Oh. Right. Just the TV then, huh?" He slid off my bed and onto the floor. "You do realize your floor is hard tile, right?"

I kept my finger raised, staring him straight in the eye as I left the room.

Locking the door behind me, I set off for my office. It was precisely eleven twenty three according to my spectacular internal clock, meaning I had a good twenty minutes to get there and irritate Kell before his lunch break.

This proved impossible, however, as I found out the moment I stepped into Kell's private office and found a significant lack of Kell.

Christina was there though. "Hey," she said.

"Hi."

Christina was the sort of girl who could energize someone to exhaustion, steal their wallet, and then sell them a purse. She was terrifyingly juvenile, not terribly bright, but sort of naively driven. But I mean, she was like eighteen. She'd grow out of her success.

"Where's Kell?" I sort of nodded at her. People who were both younger and more successful than me always sort of got on my nerves. But we had developed a sort of restrained manner when we were forced to chat.

"Lunch"

"Bit early."

"Yeah. Might be a meeting."

"Right. Uh. What are you doing here then?"

"Just kind of... filing things. You know."

"Can you... call him or something?"

Honestly, we weren't really the most exciting conversational pair.

She shrugged emotionlessly. "He did leave you something." She sorted through the papers on Kell's desk until she came up with a small note and two envelopes. I guess I should have been more concerned about her reasons for rifling through his belongings, but she was his secretary. Presumably they had reached a certain level of paperwork-moving trust.

She handed the letters to me. I opened the note first, which wasn't really different from any other note I had received from Kell in the past- it just thanked me for running the errand for him. He wrote one of these for me like every day, even if he was sitting right in front of me. It was sort of embarrassing.

The envelopes were something different in that I hadn't been expecting them. They were more of the same in that they were just another errand Kell wanted me to run for him.

Both envelopes had 'Wrath' written on them. The first was for Phillip Miller, while the second was for someone named Marie Newman.

"I was just in Wrath though."

"Guess you'll just have to scurry back down again," said Christina with a certain air that suggested apathy. I'd been running errands for Kell for however long, and Christina had grown quite used to watching me run in and out of the office.

"I'm quitting this job though."

She stared me down for a little while. Four seconds, actually, but it was still a significant pause in our banter. "He's not going to want to talk to you if he learns you got these letters and never delivered them."

"I don't really want to do this," I said, staring at the papers in my hands, "Not a big fan of the concept."

"Wrath's not... a nice place," Christina said. I waited for her to add something else to that thought, but she left it hanging for an uncomfortable amount of time. She was flipping though Kell's personal planner with a determined look on her face. "I'll come with."

"Huh?"

"I'm coming with you."

"To... deliver these letters?"

"Yes."

"Is there a reason you're...?"

Christina blushed. "I have something to do there too, alright?"

"I mean..." I probably did not have a very friendly expression right now. "Not like I can stop you."

"Let's hurry."

Every few seconds I took an obvious glance at Christina, just to see if it'd inspire me to say something to her. Spending this much time with her outside the office seemed like something that warranted a proper dialogue between us, some sort of bonding conversation, but I was still thrown off by her actual presence.

I clutched the letters in my hand as we rode the elevator down to Wrath, and watched as Christina took out her ponytail and retied it into a bun. I think she was a natural blonde, but she dyed her hair candy red, and was the sort of girl who colored her eyebrows into dark black lines. She fixed up her outfit, too, straightening her button down shirt and tucking it back into her skirt.

I looked primarily at the letters, only once taking a good look at myself in the mirrored doors of the elevator, brushing my hair higher onto my head and frowning at the bags under my eyes.

Before we reached Wrath, we stopped at the floor in between- nicknamed Gluttony, it was basically just a giant cafeteria for people who didn't want to head all the way up to the city to get lunch. Two women got on here, and since we were using the fancy executive elevator, it was a good enough guess to say they were both executives.

Members of The Few, I'd guess, the dumbly named group of thirteen who had absolute power in Hell. Both of them were frightening to me- one, though she was yawning and rubbing her eyes, was muscular and covered in tattoos. On her right arm she had a steady stream of thin black lines- angelic kill counts, very vogue for the people who had enough bloodlust to survive the front lines.

The other was a simple enough woman wearing a comfy red sweater and comically large circular glasses- but she was also actively glaring at Christina and I, with her ringed fist in the air like she was thinking of threatening us.

"Hey Chrissie," the tough one said.

"Hey," Christina replied nervously.

At Wrath, I kept waiting for the two women to leave us, holding my breath at every door and praying for the best. But they kept with us right til the end, silently following us into Phillip's office.

Once inside, they tapered off and joined the others- there were quite a lot of people gathered here, all well polished in suits, ties, and blouses. Christina stayed behind me as I went to deliver Phillip's letter, though a couple people seemed to be examining her with interest. Either that or they were looking at me, but I wasn't nearly important enough for that.

Phillip looked at me with the sort of reproach only the elderly are capable of as I handed him his letter. "Thought you'd be on Earth by now."

I wanted to reply with something giddy and snappy, but all I could do was look ashamed and shuffle away as he opened his mail.

Next I had to find Marie Newman. Surely she was someone pretty high up if Kell was in contact with her, and one of the intimidating women from before seemed like a good guess. I was a bit miffed I didn't know their names. Usually I kept track of everyone important via the tabloids, but the military branch of The Few shifted so often it was easy to miss someone.

The tattooed one was closest, now talking to Phillip and looking over the letter with him, but the other was a lot less scary.

I approached her from behind. "Hi-"

She swung around, and somehow now was carrying a bright silver sword. "What is it?" She said sharply. My reflexes had failed me, and I had jumped back a bit.

"What's your name?" I said, nearly stuttering. I was not a big fan of that sword.

"Sydney Westman. Why?"

"Just checking." I turned around to go speak with the other, but she grabbed the back of my shirt.

"Who are you? Why did you want to know my name?" She demanded, loosening her grip so I could turn and face her again.

"I work for Kell, and I have to deliver a letter to someone named Marie Newman," I said, waving my hands in front of my face.

"Why would Kell trust you to deliver anything?" The anger died from her face and a very genuine confusion replaced it. "I'll take you there myself I guess. Probably for the best." She looked at her watch and mumbled, "It shouldn't take too long."

"Can you just give me directions?" I said, not enthusiastic about the idea.

"Top secret stuff. And I still don't know your name."

"It's Mannie," I said. I looked behind me and found Chrstina, who was standing in the middle of the room clutching her elbow and flicking her eyes between the various groups of people chatting in the room, like someone who went to prom alone. I frowned at her, and she shrugged.

She hurried over to me. "I heard you're going somewhere. Can I come?"

"Oh, you're with Christina?" Sydney remarked, making her disapproval quite clear.

"I feel like it's not really my place to decide that," I said.

"It is definitely mine, you're right," Sydney said, "And I do happen to know that Christina can't be trusted to be here unsupervised, knowing the crowds she runs with. On the other hand, neither she nor you have the security clearance for what Marie does... but hey, who gives a shit?"

I tried to communicate to Christina my curiosity of what Sydney was alluding to, but she was busy looking freaked out.

"Okay," I said, hoping to get things moving.

"If I'm really lucky, hey, maybe I'll be returning back here alone." Sydney threw her hands in the air in a sort of lax shrug, and laughed. "The implication there being that you both will die."

"That's not legal," Christina hissed under her breath.

Sydney waited until the large steel doors of the office closed behind us before answering, "Oh, you'd be surprised."