Operation: Immortal Hellbeast

"Heavy? So these doors are an actual physical door?" he had assumed there would be some kind of mysticism involved. Either way, the answered seemed to be clear. If that Winston tentacle could close the door, there would be no problem. In theory. It was just a matter of getting the hellbeast girl to cooperate.

It was then that the armored demon exploded and its eye landed near The Lost's boot. He observed how its pupil dilated and it's optic whipped about long after a normal human eye would die. As disturbing as it was, he remained turbed. He crouched down next to it, slamming his attache case onto the floor next to the eye, causing it to bounce up a little. It was finally time to reveal his secret weapon. He popped open both locks on the steel attache case and opened it to reveal... nothing. Well actually inside there were a bunch of containers, test tubes, and bags, but they were all empty. He pulled out a reasonably sized tube and carefully unscrewed the cap. Pulling a pair of forensic tweezers from his utility belt and picked up the eye by its optic never. He held it up, and took a good look at it from a different angle, letting it get a good look at him, then lowered into the tube and covered it back up. Finally, he replaced the tube back into the attache case, where it would be held firmly in place by specialized, form fit foam.

He then began work collected several samples of zombie and demon remains. Even if it was just ashes. Using a liquid collector, also from his utility belt, he collected several test tubes worth of zombie and demon blood.

"Soothsayer, override the lock down on that terminal for her," While he was working, he noticed that the hellbeast seemed interested in the computer. Soothsayer 01 thought to protest, but he knew better than to actually go through with it. It'd only take him a few moments to unlock the computer using New Path overrides. When New Path handled your security, that also meant they could disable your security at any point in time. Something the world was not yet as aware of as it should be, considering more and more of the world signed itself over to The New Path every day.

The computer would be at the Hellbeast's command, the lock down warning suddenly disappearing. After quickly collecting a reasonable amount of materials, he would close up his attache case and carry it over to the Hellbeast.

"Say sunshine, I don't suppose you can help me out with a little problem I have. You see, all my men can't seem to even close a simple door," he explained as he gestured toward the demon gate.

"I don't suppose your friend, Winston- was it? Could he help close that door for us?" he decided asking directly would be their best bet.

The screen moved to the main window. The icons were sparse, but the OS was familiar enough. Dabbler sits down to start browsing... except she thought she needed to dial-up.

"Oh! Okay now we're in business." She looks around "Hmmm. Where's the phone line? Can't start this dial-up without a PHONE. Come to think of it where's your modem? Ah forget it... it'll take me forever to connect. You don't even have internet explorer. She asked then gave up on using the internet.

she tilted her head as she listened to Javian ask her a favor to close the doors to hell. "Hm? OKAY! Leaving doors open is bad bad BAD BAD. Strangers could just stroll in and take whatever they want. HMPH."

Dabbler begins skipping towards the large demonic door at the end of the experimental chamber. The demonic vanguard there took one look at her approaching and began to consider their career choices.

"Oh dark lord! she's coming here! Quick! close it! close it!"

They begin to flee, and in their fear close the door themselves. One demon got locked out, too slow to get to the other side.

"Nooooo! don't leave me here with the hellbeast!" He bangs on the door.

"La la la la la~ SHOW ME THEM GUTS FELLA! CHAOOOS BEAAAAMS!" She shouted at the demon at the top of her voice, as four beams of red energy flashes from her hands and connects. The demon screams in pain as he was reduced to his charred skeleton.

"Yaaaaay I did it! BUT I'M REALLY HUNGRY NOW."

"..." The Lost quietly observed it all, making a note of both the demon's reactions to her and her abilities. He would have liked to have captured that demon as well, but he didn't dare deny this Hellbeast her kill. He approached her, seemingly without fear, but was actually a nervous and paranoid wreck inside. This was not the first time he had to maintain a poker face, though. Well, poker posture actually. He kept up the act of a calm and collected individual as he strode over towards her.

"Then please, allow me to treat you to dinner," he asked as smoothly as he could possibly manage. As he did, he offered his elbow to her in traditional gentlemanly fashion.

The Massive Doors closed shut, and once they did the demonic portal sank into the solid ground, disappearing from the material plane.

Temporarily forgetting her company, the mention of dinner caused Dabbler to whip around and start screeching, showing Lost an unfortunate close look at those demonic eyes in her hands that shoot death beams."Dinner? DO YOU KNOW THE PENALTY FOR SMOOTH TALK IS A PAINFUL FIERY DEAAAAATH! Oh wait it's just Fishbowl head. KIDDING! You mentioned pancakes?" She put her hands behind her back and gave him a big toothy grin.

Logan decided to communicate to check on the situation. "Boss, the control room is reading a drop in energy levels. What's your status now?"

The Lost tensed for a moment, bracing himself for the incoming blasts. Could he endure those beams, or would he also be instantly vaporized? Thankfully, he didn't get to find out. She didn't take his arm, but he took that in stride.

"Of course, you can have anything you want," he said with a shrug.

"Please, follow me," he'd lead her to the mess hall. He didn't respond to Logan personally, but as he past the members of Shield Wall, he performed a discrete set of hand signals. He tapped his ear, then waved at his throat.

"Viking, please maintain radio silence until further notice," Shield Wall would reply quietly after Lost had lead the hellbeast out of the room.

"By the way, you never told me your name," despite being warned, he continued his smooth talk. As they approached the kill line, he performed another discrete hand signal that told all of them to hold their fire.

"You can call me Dabbler. I like to dabble. In magic. ESPECIALLY CHAOS POWER. IT'S DA BOMB HAHAAHAHAH!" She gives only an alternate name, but it was functional enough and described what she did.

She hums and skips behind Lost as she followed him, sometimes sprinting ahead a few paces before going back, then looking at all the interesting weapons they carried. She even asks questions about each of the troops, from irrelevant things like their favorite food to soul crushing things like belief in afterlife.

Pratt, impatient, greeted Lost just past the Kill Nest. "...Well? what happened? Did you recover anything useful? The doors..." He asked earnestly, before noticing The little witch. "Gah!" He was aghast at the sight of her, and recoiled a few steps back.

"Dabbler, the Immortal Hellbeast then?" The Lost maintained a steady pace, keeping himself aware of Dabbler's presence. He didn't press her for a real name. After all, he had only given her The Lost as his. Some of the security contractors were hesitant to reply, but a look from The Lost would make each of them respond. Though, they didn't say anything particularly interesting.

When Pratt came to meet them, Lost came to a stop. He let him prattle on before finally deciding to play his gamble.

"Congratulations are in order. It would seem your summoning ritual was a success. I can assure you, The New Path will remember your name, Joseph Pratt," the Lost choose his words carefully, intending to see what would happen.

Dabbler was not listening. Of course not, not when she was describing what happened to a soul who had committed suicide. As it turned out, one of the soldiers had a brother who killed himself.

"So like, the SOUL is wandering around the woods NAKED, hunted by HELLHOUNDS until he's torn apart! Since he's just a soul he can't die, he'll feel every bite... Then his body get petrified in the suicide forest... then it starts all over again..."

The look on his face was one of complete, abject terror. The man felt like he should not have mentioned that. Nope. Definitely a bad idea. The guy would probably check himself into a psychiatric ward later.

Dabbler was not paying attention (big surprise) even when the cult leader was talking with Lost and frightened by the hell beast. It was only when his name was called, Dabbler's grin vanished.

"Joe... Pratt? Uncle JOE? JOE JOE JOE JOSEPH." A mewl quickly turned into a growl, and once again everyone's trigger finger got tense. She slowly approached Joe Pratt, with an uncharacteristic focus and intensity. Flames began to engulf her hands.

Pratt turned to the soldiers. "This... this demon is trying to trick us! She's going to kill us all! Shoot her, SHOOT HER!" He pleaded. The grunts on the ground raised their guns, but hesitated to shoot. It all fell to Javian now.

"..." The Lost did not give the order to shoot, and he had distinctly ordered them not to shoot. Instead he just crossed his arms in a stance of defiance. None of the men he brought with him would shoot without his command. That was part of why he relieved even the illustrious Viking squad.

Normal people might have reacted to this situation a certain way. However, there would be no psychiatric ward. Certainly not from a ghost story, even if it was from an actual demon. These were all survivors rescued from irregular incidents. Trained to deal with irregular incidents. Ready to die in an irregular incident.

Determined not to die in an irregular incident.

They've all come to understand- no were made to understand that The Lost was their best chance to stay alive in such a situation. His orders were absolute. Pratt's panicked words would have no sway over them.

"You seem distraught, Pratt," Yes, it was true that Lost was afraid of Dabbler, but courage is not as simple as being unafraid. To be brave was to be afraid, and yet still have the presence of mind to act. If it's one thing Lost had, it was presence of mind. In this situation, he used that presence of mind to decide on the best course of action.

He stepped to the side, getting out of Dabbler's way. His men were already standing clear of her. There was nothing between her and Pratt, the one who seemed to set her off. Once again, Lost would hold back and simply observe. It may have seemed like he was doing nothing, but instead he was doing something very important. He was learning, and when knowledge is power, that meant he was growing stronger and stronger.

"I said stay back, demon!" Pratt, having trusted his security team, now realized his error. He was defenseless. "Lost! HELP ME!" He pleaded with Javian.

"C'MERE UNCLE JOE! GIMME A HUUUUUG! BY THE WAY YOUR EYEBALLS ARE MINE!" Dabbler pounces Joe, her glowing claws raking across Joe's face and burying into his eye sockets. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

"AH! AAH! AAAAH!" Pratt was in so much pain, he finds reflexive strength to push the much smaller murder-gremlin off himself. But the damage was done. His eyes were sealed shut by a horizontal claw.

Despite the carnage, the soldiers stood and watched. Most stood stoically. A few green ones turned away to puke.

Pratt had the presence of mind to crawl, trying to reach the lift. "HELP ME! HELP! ME! SOMEBODY!"

"AHHAHAHAHA! SEE UNCLE JOE! THIRD DEGREE BURNS ARE HOW I SHOW AFFEEECTIIOOON! RECIPROCATE WITH A SCREaaaaAM!!!"  Dabbler simply lay where she was, rolling over and crawling, mocking Pratt's pain with a shrill, manic laughter.

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Even with The Lost at the top of the chain of command, The New Path would only be as strong as its weakest members. That is why Lost did not bring any green security contractors with him to this particularly dangerous situation. He knew full well that he'd be facing the most terrifying kind of enemy possible- the unknown. That is why he only brought his best and brightest.

"..." Speaking of weak links in The New Path, The Lost watched as Pratt was mauled by the very demon he had created. He listened to his cries for help, but did not feel compelled to take action.

Aside from creating his own demise, Pratt's biggest mistake was thinking that The New Path was his security team. The ugly truth of The New Path, was that it was created by The Lost, for The Lost. He did not need anyone within The New Path organization who could not be useful to him. Pratt was a recklessness fool tampering with powers beyond his recognition. Not only was he and his family responsible for a poor girl's disappearance, he had opened a door to another dimension. One that was likely hell. A door that he was not prepared to shut. He could have brought about the end of the world, and he would have done it using the very organization Lost had created to protect the world.

Lost wasn't lying when he said that The New Path would remember his name, and yes he was successful in summoning a demon, but he was a liability. This was his final test. How would he handle the very demon he had created? How would he control it? How would he be useful to The New Path? Lost watched as Pratt desperately crawled towards the elevator.

He calmly strode past Dabbler as she cackled maniacally. His heavy footfalls slowly, but steadily caught up to Pratt as he screamed.

"Mr. Pratt, as the executive chosen by the company to evaluate your performance, I have decided that despite the success of your ritual, The New Path Conglomerate has no place for someone as incompetent as you," he explained in a monotone voice, as Pratt continued to beg for help. As he did, he passed Pratt and continued on towards the cargo elevator.

The key difference between Mr. Pratt and the men and women of The New Path was very simple. When Mr. Pratt was faced with the threat of the irregular, Mr. Pratt became distraught. All of the security contractors Lost had brought with him, had all remained traught. Well most of them. The ones he'd keep around. Those who did not- Those who broke down in the line of duty, when they were needed most, they were not allowed to stay in The New Path.

It was then that the cargo elevator doors opened. It was Soothsayer 02, holding a bag of McDonalds takeout.

"Um... ah, sir! I've returned with... the package," he saluted The Lost, who came to a stop in front of him.

"Uh... what did I miss?" Soothsayer 02 tried to look past Lost, to the scene unfolding behind him. He flinched as Lost snatched the bag of food from him, then ripped the silver pin off of Soothsayer 02's uniform.

"Soothsayer 02, you're dismissed," Lost stated flatly. Soothsayer 02 would be sent home. Soon after, he'd find a pink slip delivered to him. All it took was one moment of weakness, at a critical moment, and he was out. This team was supposed to be The Lost's elite unit. The one he brought with him to the field. The one he trusted with his life. His very important life. There was no place for someone who cracked under pressure. Not when these people were supposed to protect his life.

Now with the bag of breakfast pancakes, Lost turned back to Dabbler. It was still unclear if she had a place in The New Path. Sure, she could be useful, but the question was could she be useful to him? Could he control her? Or was she a demon that he couldn't put down?

Pratt screamed and groaned, but deep down he was summoning that iron will the block out the pain of losing his sight. It was of little consequence. He was furious though, at the Lost's arrogance, thinking him weak- though unfortunate that it was his choice, there was little way to enact his own gambit against the demon. Plus, now he saw Lost's true self.

"Hhahahahaha! SHADOWFIRE seared flesh Smells so GooooOOOOd!" The demon gloated and laughed, not even paying heed to her victim. Good. Pratt begun muttering the words of power. The dark litanies he gained from bargaining. He, a Pratt, a family of occultists, had sacrificed much to gain that knowledge. The chanting was a scarce whisper but good enough.

"Hey are those Pancakes?! PANCAKES PANCAKES..." Distracted by the arrival of the food, the demon strolls over, oblivious to Joe's chanting, until he reaches the crux of the chant.

"... Manus, Potentis, Paro! Facio, Voco, Ferre! Samantha Pratt!" He places his hands on the floor, and in a flash of light binds Dabbler in a magic circle. The power of the True Name magic caused Dabbler to sink to her knees, the binding spell manifesting manacles and a collar around her hands and neck. The demon unbound was now firmly, the mania in her eyes replaced with a dullness.

It was now Joseph Pratt's turn to laugh, to cackle with satisfaction. "...Mister Lost... I would see you eat your words... incompetent, was it?" He shrugs off the weakling act he used to get everyone off guard, standing to his feet confidently despite the loss of his eyes. Now, the soldiers trained their guns of Pratt. Of course, he just did bind the most dangerous thing to come out that hell door...

Pratt was too good at concealing his family's secrets. Lost only saw the incompetent facade that he put up as a smoke screen. He only saw the cowardice that was displayed in the face of crisis. He had no idea it was just an act.

"..." Instead, he was focused on Dabbler. Of course, he handed over the food to the young hellbeast girl. As he did, he tried to think of how he could control this demon. How he could make her useful. She as too hard to read to manipulate reliably. She didn't seem to respond well to smooth talk, so seducing her was out of the question. That's when he decided that there was only one option left. He extended out his open hand to her.

"Dabbler, would you, please, be my friend?" he asked directly. It was pretty dorky to flat out ask someone to be your friend, but if being a smoother operator wouldn't work, then the only other option was to be a dork.

He could tell right away that she would never be his minion or his tool, but maybe she could become a friend. So he put forth the question with the genuine hope that they could look out for each other.

However, before she could answer his question, Pratt had finished his incantation. The Lost was left dumbfounded for a moment, and could do nothing but watch helplessly as Dabbler was shackled. This alone was a personal failure that stabbed deeply into The Lost's pride. Only when Pratt began to brag did Lost understand that this was his doing.

"Pratt, so you had this prepared? What else have you been keeping out of your reports?" True, a pawn that kept this many secrets was a liability, but really The Lost just didn't like being fooled. There was no way he'd eat his words and welcome Pratt to walk besides him along The New Path.

There was no doubt about it, Pratt was his enemy.

"What? I delivered exactly as I promised. I would bind a demon to serve us. Nothing more, nothing less. The peculiar details of *how* are less irrelevant." He said, and he didn't need to lie to achieve it. But, being nothing short of a true a diabolist, he was a man of contracts and agreements. Opening portals to hell was an ability, sure, really flashy and attention grabbing but more overlooked was the more mundane yet devilish rules lawyering of such faustian bargains.

"Now... I recall our terms... By tomorrow I will prepare... a device for control, and then on she may be of use to you." Pratt said, taking out a walking cane and began walking to the elevator, feeling his way around. A pricey victory, sacrificing pawns, but it was worth taking down the Queen. But the long game of chess was not yet over, not by a long shot.

"You lack foresight, Pratt," The Lost just shook his head, not moving out of the way.

"If that really was all you had to offer, then we'd have no reason to continue working with you. As I recall our terms, New Path reserved the right to withdraw support- both financial and otherwise -the moment we deemed your results unsatisfactory," he reminded him.

"Summoning a demon as promised was not enough to be deemed satisfactory in light of your other many failings. For one, opening a door to hell that you couldn't seal shut, if you need to be reminded," He had already fired Pratt. Talking about their previous arrangement was foolish. He wasn't going to take him back.

"Furthermore, The New Path asserts ownership of all research data and materials that resulted from failed projects. You are to clear out your desk of personal affects and leave the premises immediately- leaving behind all of the results of your research," of course by this, he was clearly referring to the Immortal Hellbeast.

"If you fail to comply, you will be escorted off grounds by security," upon saying this, each of the members of his team would turn toward Pratt in unison. The sound for their boots slamming against the pavement reinforced his threat.

This was not a matter he was willing to back down on. It was time to see what other tricks Pratt had up his sleeve.

"Such a shame, mister Lost. Here I thought we were going to embark on a journey of learning." Pratt paused just before entering the elevator, sounding rather disappointed. "I have all I need, and you have all I worked on. You are welcome to learn about the Hellbeast yourself."

A snap of the fingers, and the barrier containing Dabbler winks out. She remains there catatonic while Pratt remains in the chamber.

"Now, if there is nothing else, I take my leave. The lack of eyes is a major inconvenience. Dabbler is bound not to kill you or any under your authority." Pratt gets in the elevator. He repeated and emphasized, "Not kill." The elevator doors close.

Once Joe was gone, Dabbler was up and about again, like she never realized she was bound. She picked up on their last conversation. "Gee awkward much Fishbowl Head? Yeah sure we can be friends." There it was, a voice unlike the rest. A voice of a normal adult woman coming from the little gremlin. Samantha Pratt? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Ooooh pancakes DON'T MIIIIND IF I DOOOO." She takes the pancakes and finds a table to eat with the disposable fork. For a crazed cannibal she had good table manners.