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Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

Entering the bunker’s interior, Guns could see a small industrial lift. Walking carefully, she leaned over the railing and saw the long way down leading to the complex underneath. Lights illuminated the way, with red and blue pipes going down and curving off into different sections of the shaft.

“Taking the lift might be risky. Then again, they didn’t have any guards here. This area must be low concern for them.”

Of course, there was the concern of security cameras and sensors. There was none in this room, but sure as Hell, they had some leading all the way down recording this section. It was time for Guns to show one of her gadgets.

“Hold on a second and watch the door. I’m gonna knock out the power.”

Heading over to a fuse breaker, she opened it and retrieved a small blue and red device from her bag. It came straight from VoxTek, something they created for operators in Hell. It saps electricity for about fifteen minutes, disrupting systems. She could have used it on the door, but that would’ve been a waste.

Placing it on the fuse breaker, the device embeds itself. Miniature claws dig into the metal, then electric shocks spread over it. Soon enough, the power fluctuates then goes dark, leaving emergency red lights on. The whole base had gone dark as well.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

There was an edge of anger to her voice. It was stress, maybe even fear. They’re were risking everything by being here. Hell considered this treason. Heaven considered it grounds for war. Either way, they cannot risk capture, or failure, or discovery.

They need to sneak in. Hit hard. Then leave.

Moving through the tall grass and mesquite trees, they eventually reached Hoffman. The perimeter of the base was cleared of tress, mowed down. A barbed wire fence separated the world, wrapping around the old air base. In the distance, there was three hangers built back in the late 40s. Barracks, built not far away, with some more “modern” builds built back during The Cuban Missile Crisis. There were some newer buildings, administration and what not. But this place hasn’t seen real, military purpose since Reagan.

Now? There were rows upon rows of mothballed bombers, transports and fighter jets. Old technology once considered space age and cutting edge. Now, just rusting away and gathering dust and insects.

Guns examined the base through her binoculars. The night vision feature helped her see some points of interest.

“Our best bet is the administration building. It’s that three story office building, the one with the F4 phantom jet outside on display.”

As Guns looked, she remembered. She remembered her dad bringing her here to see the bombers. She was young then, innocent. It never occurred to her that those bombers were created to bring death on a global scale. Nuclear eschaton.

Guns continued surveying the airbase. She noticed patrols, blacked out SUVs that patrolled around the hangers. More were parked nearby, belonging to the same security group. Beyond the patrols and sentries, there were cameras everywhere. Sensors to detect and register any abnormal readings. If they caught Roth, then they know exactly what to look for. What to expect.

Hearing Buzz’s suggestion, Guns smiled and agreed. It was the best way to infiltrate the base after all. From there, they can survey the area better from high up.

Buzz wrapped both sets of arms around Guns' torso before lifting off, climbing to about two hundred feet above the third floor. He then quickly flew over to the administration building and carefully landed on the roof, releasing Guns and looking around. "So far, so good. Now, lemme see..."

Walking over to the edge of the roof, Buzz took a proper view of the airbase. He wondered if he should have brought binoculars; he wondered if he should have brought a dozen other different things that might only be used once. There could be no holding back when going in against the government.

Then again, that doesn’t answer it.

Guns wasn’t sure what they would find exactly down there. Knowing the feds- it wasn’t anything humane. The Feds are cruel- she knew how her father was treated. She knew it from her life on the run, on the other side of the law. Assassination, intimidation and suffocating the truth before it could become inconvenient. She only glanced at the darkness when she was alive, never knowing the full scoped of the evil.

It ran too deep for any light to pierce.

Now Roth was in that darkness, but then again he was in a darkness far before she met him.

Guns swiftly moved towards the heavy metal door that led inside the bunker. It’s protected by a keypad. For this, she deferred to Buzz for his own special expertise on the matter.

Thankfully, the first time Buzz had met the Gwendroid, though it recognized him based on voice patterns (reminding him to get a speech scrambler installed for his mask, which he still hadn't done), it accepted his new name, that little Alex was gone, and Buzz had stepped into his shoes. Germs weren't the only thing Buzz was paranoid about. Good thing these robots had been designed to be as user-friendly as possible.

"Yes, there are. Thousands of us. You are right. Perhaps it is why I wonder you chose to fix one when you did not have to."

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Of course he had to bring that up. Internally, Baal knew quite a bit about Dantalion's little situation, but that damn deal he was forced into meant even acknowledging it was out of the question. "Dantalion's got a lot of little tricks like that in that library of his. I aint' surprised he figured it out." It didn't help not everyone in the flock was good at keeping secrets. But it was time to keep things to the subject.

"Baal. I have a... bit of an unorthodox request of ya. There's... an investigation goin' on. Regardin' the identity of a certain Goetia, I've acquired the names of a few imps who may have known them, an' I've been told they were employed by your family. Do the names Trudy an' Lottie ring a bell?"

Baal answered the call with a rather typical gruff. "Yes?" Too many of his brethren saw fit to make a show of major formalities when trying to get his attention so it was nice to finally just get a damn phone call for something less important. He found it a happy medium for these sorts of things. A meeting could be an email, sure, but a phone call was harder to pretend you didn't get it.

He forced himself to not bark back at the vagueness of the request but he knew who 'a certain goetia' was well enough. It was the only now publicly known bastard in the man's orbit. It was a good thing it wasn't the other one from the broadcast- Dantalion's mystery relative he was hunting. That one he couldn't help with and had Gusion to thank for that. Just in case, it was best to keep to the topic at hand.

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Coronis had heard Duedephelon had come to the estate to visit to devise a way of tracking down her birth father. She had been nervous about running into him, and specifically avoided their meetings to the best of her ability. But with Astaroth coming to her direct, she did have to provide some assistance if she wanted answers.

"Most imps in royal employ are in it for life. They work very hard to stay that way." She admitted. "The only ones that tend to cycle from family to family are nannies and caretakers for children. I only had mine for seven years before they were granted a position with another expecting family."

She remembered her nanny and nurse as not being particularly nurturing. The nanny was there to enforce early education, and the nurse was to make sure Coronis was fed and clean. The nanny had been harsh, strict, and would often make Coronis stand in a corner for hours on end when she cried until she "learned" to stop. At the very least the nurse would let her self soothe with a book and allow her to sit quietly in her arm chair until she calmed down.

Neither had ever shown her affection. They had been taught from an early age not to.

Perhaps Lottie had not yet developed the same capacity for letting toddlers cry it out as her aunt did. Trudy would give her the stone cold treatment to enforce her mother's particular style of parenting. But at the time, Lottie did seem to express some remorse, even if it never translated into action.

Coronis had heard Duedephelon had come to the estate to visit to devise a way of tracking down her birth father. She had been nervous about running into him, and specifically avoided their meetings to the best of her ability. But with Astaroth coming to her direct, she did have to provide some assistance if she wanted answers.

"Most imps in royal employ are in it for life. They work very hard to stay that way." She admitted. "The only ones that tend to cycle from family to family are nannies and caretakers for children. I only had mine for seven years before they were granted a position with another expecting family."

She remembered her nanny and nurse as not being particularly nurturing. The nanny was there to enforce early education, and the nurse was to make sure Coronis was fed and clean. The nanny had been harsh, strict, and would often make Coronis stand in a corner for hours on end when she cried until she "learned" to stop. At the very least the nurse would let her self soothe with a book and allow her to sit quietly in her arm chair until she calmed down.

Neither had ever shown her affection. They had been taught from an early age not to.

Duedephelon stiffened and tried to nod as best he could. Though he was settled with the look of affirmation on the duke's face that followed. "O-Of course, my lord. I did not mean to offend." So it was merely for personal satisfaction and possibly closure for Coronis. If Phel had to hazard his own guess at what her life would have been like under the lifestyle of a serial rake, he would suspect chaotic and unstable. Hopefully kinder than her upbringing under her brother's harsh icy roof, but possibly no better in other respects.

He had a feeling that simply going to Archduke Dantalion for the answer was precisely what Astaroth wanted to avoid. The man had proven himself crafty quite quickly and Phel had seen the social aftermath of his broadcast among the common people. He was being heralded as 'one of the good ones' and 'telling it like it is'. It patterned the way the media controlling Overlords would often feed the masses validation of their own woes while also serving others to blame for them. It was a concerning trend he would have to watch. This was only the beginning of something but that would have to wait.

He started to mutter to himself. "I doubt the same people who told the archduke of their secrets will be able to do so twice. Like as not the Marquis has scoured his personal staff to search for possible leaks. Mayhap I shall start by looking at who may have been dismissed from royal service recently- or families of those who have vanished depending on how cruelly they were dealt with. Though that, by itself, may construe an admission of guilt... where to begin...? Where? Where? Where? Where?"

'Right here, right now, I put the offer out I don't wanna chase you down, but I know you see it You run with me, and I can cut you free Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in.'

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@nebula-gaster said: "You're not meant to hate yourself." (Flora for Vaggie) Dealing with Self Loathing

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