"And hello!" In a blur of green, Sydney was upon us. "I took the day off. Well, technically I didn't- I'm not allowed to. But as luck has it, I'm part of The Few and there's only twelve people in all of Hell who can undermine my authority."

"Who's this?" Asked Blake. I had forgotten he hadn't met Sydney.

"Ah, this must be the human kid you took from Wrath. How interesting! I'm Sydney, Ms. Westman to you, and I'll be joining you for your shenanigans today."

"Oh! I didn't know you had any friends, Mannie. That's great!"

"You're too excited about this. Sydney's not my friend, I literally met her yesterday. She's not coming with us, she's going to tell us how she found us, why she's here, and then she's going to leave."

"I'm going to ignore that tone of voice you're using and instead point out that as your superior, I have authority to order you to take me along. And if you don't comply, I could always just arrest you."

"I don't mind you coming along, Ms. Westman," said Blake.

"You don't need to call her Ms. Westman, Blake. Or be polite to her at all."

"I'm not going to be rude to a total stranger."

"Fantastic! Looks like we're settling in. So what are you brats doing digging through this trash heap? Breaking two laws already, so off to a good start."

Blake shrugged, "I'm not really certain. Mannie just wanted to look at some files, and I wanted to find mine. Except it isn't here."

"Huh." Sydney put enough emphasis on sounding puzzled that I wasn't surprised by what she said next. "The reason for that, I'll admit, is because I have your file. Looked it up and took it down the moment I heard Mannie had taken you from your cell."

"Why would you do that?"

"I wanted to know if there was anything about you that'd prompt such a move. And the answer is no! I have it up in my apartment if you want to drop by some time. I'll make tea."

"How did you find me here?" I asked.

"Mannie, dear, you're rather protective over your identity, aren't you? I'd rethink my life choices in that case. Hell is covered in cameras. Even if we don't quite care about the rules, we are dedicated to watching them get broken."

"Blake, let's get moving."

"Okay." He got up and followed me past where Sydney was standing. She immediately turned and followed as well. "What do you have against Ms. Westman anyway?"

"Something about her rubs me the wrong way. And I met her yesterday. I don't trust people that quickly."

"I met you yesterday."

"Yes, and...? Blake, do you honestly think we've bonded in that time?"

Blake was silent. After a beat, Sydney spoke. "Wow. How do you put up with this? You poor child."

"Mannie's working on saving me, so I try not to mind the snappy remarks."

"Where to next, leader?" Sydney asked me.

"Going to check if Kell's done with his meeting," I grumbled.

"Oh, you do sound cranky. Sorry." Sydney was clearly having an absolute ball.

We went on. I couldn't really ignore her, and she was entirely right that she had the power to arrest us. And I couldn't have that. I decided to just comply with her and look for an opportunity to lose her the next chance I got.

Blake, of course, was being dumb and making conversation. "So what do you do as military personnel?"

"Kill birds, what do you expect? I don't do any direct killing, but I have been responsible for many. Currently I have the most kills indirectly under my name ever achieved, by anyone, ever."

"By 'birds' you mean angels right? So the angels are evil? It sort of goes against the ideas you hear on Earth. I mean, they're supposed to be all holy and divine."

"Nah, angels are the real scum. We kill as many of them as we can, with good reason. It can take up to thirty men to kill one, losing at least half in the process. Or, it used to take." She had a voice well suited to boasting. "See, since I gained power, things have changed. We can just send in maybe five men and get the job done. Won't be long until we've backed them birds into a corner."

"What did you do that changed things around so much? It must be something really crazy to be responsible for saving all those lives. Not like I'm really into the killing part, but I mean, if they take so many of your own..."

"Ah, ha, you flatter me kid. I can't say what I did though, it's a top-secret project. We still haven't got it one hundred percent perfect yet."

"The rings," I said.

"Well, yeah." Sydney seemed surprised that I had spoken. "But no need to spoil the kid on that."

"What rings?" Blake asked.

I fished Kell's out of my pocket and held it up for him. "This is an angelsword. It's a magical ring that, went worn, allows an angel to summon a powerful weapon. Closest thing to magic out there. Sydney's found a way to make them work for demons too."

"Sounds like it is magic."

"No such thing."

"You say that, a demon in Hell, to a human who had to die to get here."

About halfway to Greed, Sydney's phone began to ring. She ran off to the far wall and leaned back, flashing us a finger to imply this would only take a minute.

"Hey, bye!" I said, walking ahead.

"It's only going to take a few minutes," said Sydney.

"I'm just glad you're leaving."

She flashed a sour look, and I sped up the pace, skittering on the uneven surface of the tunnel floor.

"I can entirely understand why you have so few friends."

"And I continue to be your way out of here."

"So far we've been fine and fancy about everything. Who's stopping me from getting out of here." He stood still as if to illustrate his point. "No one cares that a human is loose."

"Believe what you want." Before I got too far away, he ran up to keep in pace.

"I need to talk to Kell one more time, and then I'm getting you out of here. Hundred percent."

"We'll see, but thanks for promising again."

Blake was walking very close to me and looking up occasionally in such a way that I instantly knew he wanted to talk with me about something important. He was no doubt having his own internal monologue. God knows what he was thinking about though.

I think he wanted me to break the silence, but he gave up by the time we crossed the threshold into Greed. "I didn't want to talk about it around Ms. Westman, but what she said about the angels... well, being evil and all. I thought it made sense at first. Pepper is a fallen angel and is super sweet, so she must be really different from all the non-fallens, right? But she spoke so highly of Heaven and of Percy that I'm not so sure."

"Who knows? It's not really our business to get involved."

"I don't like the idea of war. And I especially don't like the idea of a war where the sides don't know anything about their enemies besides how to kill them."

"What can you do about it? It's too big to risk getting tangled up in. Just let them be."

"It shouldn't be that hard to prove they don't need to fight. What are they even fighting over?"

"I think you're forgetting that this isn't any war. This is the war between angels and demons. Their whole existence is bent on destroying each other. Look, if it helps, the angels actually are a threat to Hell- they want to kill everyone, so soldiers have to be sent to stop them."

"See? It's simple. There's just a misunderstanding. If the angels were to just see that Hell isn't that bad, they would stop trying to kill everyone and this could stop."

"Hell isn't that bad? Are you forgetting that you were locked up in solitary and experimented on for no reason down in Wrath?"

"Yeah, that was pretty... unpleasant. But that's just Wrath. Since I left, it all seems ok."

"I don't get you." We had arrived back at the office, and Blake stayed outside the door. "I just don't."

My coworkers' glared at me as I passed. I had never liked any of them, which was good, seeing as none of them cared for me. A white haired guy named Fletcher seemed ready to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

I'd never really understood him, or the others, or people in general. Maybe when I was younger I had, but I'd lost that grip on socialization as I had aged. Others always saw me as haughty and rude, with no regard for jovial chats and a strange lack of friendships. Kell was my friend, I think.

We got along.

He liked to talk to me whenever I'd sit on his desk, and the way he asked questions implied he cared about at least one of the answers.

"It's been a few years, and I've yet to see you cozy up to anyone," he had said, implying a question over a hot cup of coffee.

I had my own glass. "Don't care for anyone around here."

"Is there someone up in Pride that you at least visit? I could imagine you settling into a bookstore cafe over some over priced drink."

"Do I seem like the type?" I had made a face of disgust.

"What, the dating or the hipster attitude?" Kell had looked absolutely delighted by how much the subject made me squirm. This feeling really did suit his face best- he looked like a fox, grinning before a meal. But not in some creepy sexual sense, where I was the meal. We didn't work like that. The conversation was.

"All. I love having friends-"

"Mm, wouldn't have guess that-"

"But I'll be dead before I get cozy."

"You aro ace then?" He took a long, hot sip.

"What?"

"Aromantic asexual."

"I don't know either of those words."

He had explained them to me. But labels like that really entered my life too late to matter. It was funny how that worked in Hell, how someone like Kell could look older than me but feel like part of a younger generation.

Growing up I'd just assumed I was straight, as everyone back then seemed to be. You weren't really anything else but, where I lived. I knew about gay people, but it was through word of mouth- back in the early 90s, in a backwater small town with little internet and limited TV, you just didn't know about these things.

Asexual, aromantic- maybe they were around back then before getting big in the 00s. Maybe Kell, in his liberal city ways, had always known. It was nice, I suppose, finding out enough people were like me they'd cooked up a whole terminology scheme. Knowing I wasn't straight, but learning I didn't have to be gay either.

So secretly, I might've been pleased, even if it didn't matter anymore. You live alone for long enough and the odds of anything mattering begins to feel slim. As a kid it might've, but that was a long time ago.

Well.

Secretly, yeah, I might've been pleased. Even if it was late coming. 'Aro ace'. Good to know.

Kell was open to me about this sort of thing, I guess viewing me as one of his peers. He was bisexual, and liked to detail to me his struggles in the world of romantics. Speaking of, he'd freely told me he was aro too- grey-aro, he seemed eager to report. I generally made a point of sighing loudly.

"I know I've felt romantic love before, but one day it seemed to snap off. It's tricky for me, romance." He once told me, monologuing over a hot cup of coffee. I groaned in protest. "I never feel sure."

"You're so fucking old. Get it together already."

"That's the point- I'm old and alone."

"It's time to stop worrying then."

That ended it. He was the kind of guy who didn't tell anyone about his sexuality but the people who knew it from experience. And me, for some reason. In this day and age, no one really cared about sexuality. God, Hell was the gayest place I'd been in, having grown up in a tiny, kinda homophobic town. The fact Kell was still so sensitive boggled me.

He had stopped talking about these sorts of things when Christina came to share the office.

Which was nice.

"Hey," I said, entering the room. Kell was propping his head up with his elbow, looking at something on his computer screen. Hie eyes lazily met mine as I sat down across from his desk.

"You're back. Unemployment not faring you well?"

"I just wanted to talk to you properly."

"Not a good time. I'm more stressed than before," he said softly, going into that voice he only used when he was with me, like he needed to tread carefully.

"It can be quick. I just want to make sure that you know- t-that I'm leaving."

"So. What is it you want again?" Kell asked.

"Some form of emotion. Real dramatic."

"I have no idea how to go about conveying that. Look, I think I know what you're really asking for- attention, right? Some validation maybe? Some reassurance that whatever silly thing you've dedicated yourself to now is indeed a big important deal?" He rubbed his eyes. "I can't help you there. Just tell me what you want to hear, and I'll say it."

"I want you to say what you feel."

"Tired."

My voice caught in my throat. "Just-"

"I'll be sorry to see you go."

"Okay. That's enough."

"Thank you," he sighed.

And I guess that was it.