Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Time moves funny in hell, that much was sure. Mike couldn’t seem to grasp how much time had passed since he had been posted here. But, despite how much time had passed, or not passed, he was the FNG on the base, the new kid. A moniker that was likely to remain until the next poor bastard got killed in battle doing something heroic. 

Still, despite not really knowing just how much time had passed, he figured it must have been at least a couple of months since he came here, and he was settling into a rhythm of sorts. Funnily enough, being part of a heaven task force in hell was actually one of the most informal postings he ever had. Seems God expected you to guard this portal, do extraction missions and train. But besides that? There weren't really a lot of restrictions as many other armies around the world would have. While this base had what one would expect of a military base: Armoury, fences around it, guard towers, canteen and barracks (Which were much bigger and better than any barracks he had ever seen), it carried signs of being modified throughout time. 

Hell, which was much more tame that Mike had ever expected, followed Earth in its development. Seems like sinners brought pieces of home with them when they died, and when hell changes, so does the base to accommodate. But it wasn’t just in regards to military installations, entertainment centers, upgrades to the central kitchen, Laundromat, you name it, there is a chance this base has it. Mike suspects half the reason is to also keep people in the base. While they are allowed to leave the base when they have leave (And wander hell if they so chose), they must be back on their post by the time their leave is up. Desertion is in breach of contract, and any breach of their contract with heaven will… You guessed it, forfeit their last chance at salvation. 

Oh yeah, and those extraction missions? That seems to be the entire reason why there even is a portal to heaven in the first place. Apparently, between death and going to the afterlife, even the most paragon of mankind can risk somehow being snatched up and pulled into hell by demons. Fortunately for them, their extraction force exists, so every now and then, they get orders from heaven to find this person pulled into hell, and extract them back to heaven. 

While living on this base they had built around the portal is nice and all, and guard duty is hardly the worst thing he has ever done, Mike really does yearn for the chance to join the extraction team. Some excitement… It’s partly what he used to live for, back when he was… well alive. But so far, he had been excited just by speaking to his fellow soldiers. Seems like this battalion has been built up ever since Jesus walked the earth, the first man to get chance… or be assigned this posting, as they like say, was a Roman centurion named Augustus Flavian who had grown a conscience in the last moments of his life, and protected a congregation of Christians against his fellow Romans. To be, effectively, around for almost 2000 years was a real head scratcher to Mike, not that he had spent much time speaking with Augustus. The Roman was still stoic, not much for casual conversation. Kept mostly to himself in his free time, but he did lead one of the extraction teams (the best one). But luckily for Mike, others were willing to engage in conversation. 

Like Robert Rowland, who was fast-tracking to becoming his best friend here. Robert had also been a paratrooper, he died during the battle of the Bulge, dropping over a brother-in-arms when a grenade was thrown at them, saved the man's life, but lost his own in the bargain. But, he was always in high spirits, eternally grateful for the chance he has gotten. He had been the one to be his welcome committee, filling him in on all the jobs he would be doing, and what future jobs might be available, depending on how well he does. Having a friend like him was a life-saver, managed to make a few friends as well due to Robert in the few months he had been in hell. 

The alarm clock rang out, its annoying ringtone instantly waking Mike up, making him shoot up in bed. One thing you get to learn while in the military, it’s that it only gets worse if you stay in bed a little longer, might as well get up the moment it starts. The same discipline seemed to have never been drilled into his bunkmate. “You plan on getting up today?” Mike asked as he stretched out. 

“Relax dude, it’s my rest day.” Declan Cambbell had been one of those hippie types who got drafted for the Vietnam war, kept his entire style loose, and in any other military force than the Heaven task force they were a part of, it would have been unacceptable. He was the type to wear a peace symbol on his jacket, anti-war slogans on his helmet… The type shown in all Vietnam war movies ever made. That’s another thing that puzzled Mike when he had been dropped off here, mostly everyone kept their equipment from when they were alive. Not that God was cheap or anything (Can an all knowing and all powerful being that created the universe even be cheap?), any military equipment you wanted, all you had to do was fill in a requisition order and it would be delivered, more like spit out, of the portal. A lot of people were more comfortable sticking to the equipment and weapons they used when they lived. 

“Well, enjoy it. I’ll see you tomorrow at the common?” 

“Sure thing dude.” Declan groaned as he switched sides on the bed, turning his back to Mike, who simply shook his head and chuckled. Well, time to hit the showers and get ready for the day. 

He greeted the men who passed him by in the halls as he made his way to the showers. There weren’t many women on the base, but there were a few. Not that women couldn’t die as heroically as men, most of the world had simply decided for a long time that women shouldn’t fight, so those who were here tended to be those who fought during extreme times of need. They had their own barrack on the other side of the base. 

Taking a quick shower, and then changing into his military rags, he finally exited the barracks, to make his way towards the mess area for some,breakfast. But before that, he met Logan McGhee, Scottish man, killed in the first world war, guiding a group of children, who for some reason had never evacuated the farmhouse they stayed at, to safety. He was a lot of fun to be around though. 

“Morning lad, you slept well?” 

“Yeah, as good as one can in hell.” It always seemed like your dreams were muddled when you slept in hell. Robert had told him it had something to do with the fact that they were still… well alive to some degree. While they did not age anymore or get sick, they could still be killed by trauma. And if they did, God would judge their soul, and send it to where it is destined based on how well they have performed. So there was a chance you’d end up with the demons you defend the portal from. 

“You’ll get used to it lad. Scuttlebutt says we’re gonna get front gate guard duty today.” 

“No doubt as interesting as last time.” 

“Aye lad, it is boring. If rumors are true though, you got me as company. Not bad, eh?” McGhee laughed as he slapped Mike on the shoulder. 

“As long as you leave your bagpipes in your bunk. I can’t stand that music.” Mike grinned. 

“Watch your tongue lad, I shall not have some yankee mock our music.” Logan’s face switched to serious on a dime. Mike looked back at him, almost nervous his attempt at humor had just burned a bridge. 

“Look, I’m-” 

“Got ya!” He laughed, a full belly laugh. 

“You fucker.” Mike began to laugh with him. 

“Should have seen your face! HA, priceless!” 

“Just get your fat highland ass going” Mike tried to switch to a more serious tone, but it was clear he wasn’t as skilled as Logan in that regard. 

“Sure lad, sure” Logan remarked as they continued on. “Oh, and by the way… You coming to football tomorrow? Lads are having a game.” 

“Actual football or that thing you Europeans love to play?” Mike looked back at Logan and asked. 

“You yanks call it soccer, but its proper name is football. Are ya’ coming or not?” Logan asked back. 

“Nah. Me, Cambbell and Fritz were going to have a pool game.” Mike excused himself. Logan shook his head as they finally entered the mess area. 

“Let us hope Mathieu made some proper food today, none of the French fancy stuff.” 

“Say what you will about Mathieu, but he serves the best food I ever tasted… At least in a military context. Understandable that you don’t enjoy it though” 

“Eh, what’s that supposed to mean?” Logan stopped up and asked, but Mike just kept going with a smile. 

So, here he was again. Duty at the front gate. Stand here for two hours, be relieved from your post by the guard roster for 4 hours, to rest, and then back again for two hours. Rinse and repeat for the next 24 hours until the next guard team would relieve them. Then it is four days of either rest, training or different assignments, depending on what base leadership commanded. It was evening now, the day had been uneventful, as far as he knew. He was at the tail end of his two hour shift, getting ready for four hours in the guard house in about 40 minutes. 

But for now, he had to listen to Logan go on and on about some old story while keeping his eyes peeled on the horizon. Mike hadn’t fired his gun since he came here, besides the shooting range of course. There had been no attempts to breach the perimeter of the base on his watch during his time here, but there had been a few attempts when he was off duty though. 

He knew he shouldn’t wish for the excitement of an attempt at a breach of the base, but he had always loved the adrenaline in his veins when things turned to shit. Things were probably… getting a bit too normal. When he came home from his first tour, he quickly realized he had lost the ability to adjust to life at home. He was military for life, quite literal now though. 

“-Oh, you should have seen how he squealed when he saw what he had done to his clothes…” Seems like Logan was finishing up another story, Mike looked over at the scot with a sideway look. “Heard the lads on south gate duty last night had an attempt at a breach.” 

Now Mike fully looked over at Logan. “I didn’t hear any gunshots?” 

“It was Mendez and Blackburn. Both are from the medieval times, so they carry swords. Probably why you didn’t hear it.” 

“And the man in the guard tower?” 

“That jap guy… What is his name again?” Logan snapped his fingers trying to remember.

“The Samurai guy? Don’t those guys fight with katanas?” Mike was the first to admit he didn’t know much about the way the Samurai fought, he had only seen them depicted in popular media, and besides: he had never said two words to the guy. 

“I think they fight with all kinds of weapons. Anyway, he nailed one of the imps with an arrow, and Mendez and Blackburn killed two more. One got away though. Hopefully he will spread the word for others to not try their luck.” Logan explained as he adjusted his grip on his Lee-enfield. 

“Christ. How come it’s always on other people’s shifts that kind of thing happens?” Mike complained, but seemingly it was aimed at no one. 

“Don’t be so quick to wish for battle lad. Those creatures can be vicious.” Logan reminded him. Mike knew the scot was right, but still, he couldn’t shake it. 

“Don’t you ever feel like it’s weird just how… normal things are here in hell?” Mike turned and asked, still frustrated. 

“Everyone feels that way when they get here, lad. They expect fire lakes, the smell of sulfur, the sounds of screaming from the torture of sinners. Then they see it’s pretty the same as the surface, just with more violence, sex and whatnot.” 

“I mean, for Christ's sake they have an entire city built.” Mike gestured out to the horizon. The base, and the portal, was located on a hill outside of the city, by the very edge of the ring of pride. But they could clearly see the city from their base, with the crimson sky as the backdrop. While it felt normal here, there were still many indicators it wasn’t earth. While the red sky was the biggest one, and the demons roaming the street working nine to fives, the temperature was always… uncomfortable, either just a tad bit too warm… Or too humid. Stuff like your shoelaces coming undone, your lighter not working sometimes. Things which are minor inconveniences in contrast to the torturing he figured was going on in hell. 

“Look lad, I can’t explain why things are the way that they are. I figure even the padre in our church can’t truly answer why it is the way it is. It simply is. Now, we have a job to do, focus on that. If you want, you can go into the city on the next leave and ask the locals.” Logan tried to comfort him, putting an almost fatherly hand on Mike's shoulder. 

“Right, and get my head ripped off by some sinner who is bitter about being placed here.” Mike tried to joke. 

“Yeah, doesn’t seem to bother Karl though. He still goes into the city every time he has leave. Just make sure you come back again.” Logan reminded him. Mike wasn’t sure though. Why bother? They had everything here. But then again, if he craved excitement… 

“Disciple 4. This is overlord. Do you copy? Over.” The sound of their radio interrupted them. Mike pressed the button down on his radio. 

“This is Disciple four. Go ahead overlord. Over.” Mike said. Command tended to check in every 10 minutes. 

“Requesting status report. Over.” 

“Everything is clear, overlord. Visibility 100%. No attempts at breaches detected. Over.” There were a few seconds of silence on the radio. Probably the man on the other side writing down the report. 

“Copy that Disciple 4. Butcher 2 is moving on assignment in two minutes. Clear the road for trucks passing through. How copy? Over.” 

“Solid copy, overlord. Over.” Mike gestured to the roadblock, and Logan nodded as he walked over to it. 

“Good. Report if need arises. Overlord out.” And with that, Mike went to help Logan with moving the roadblock so the extraction team could move through. Looks like some poor sap was in for a rescue, which was undoubtedly a relief for them. Mike wondered if they would be back quickly. 

Seeing the armoured convey come through and speed off into the city really made Mike wish he was with them. But before he could ever be considered for the extraction team, he would need specialized training. He had already applied for the role, alongside at least 50 other men still waiting. They quickly closed up behind them. 

“You know, sometimes I wonder why they even have us guard this place. Considering the automated defences in place if they ever breach the wall.” Mike thought out loud. “Who even knows if demons can use the portal? They might get instantly killed if they tried.” 

“It’s possible. But you have your orders lad. Best stick to them. Could be worse if you ask me.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Anyways… How about another story? See, my uncle went to sea-” 

Mike mentally drowned out whatever story Logan was coming up with next. He liked the guy, but damn it could get tiring to listen to. Mike tried to focus on the job at hand. Keeping his eye training on the horizon if anyone tried anything. But no demons ever really came close to this place, usually staying outside of a mile diameter around the base. Still, it wouldn’t hurt if one just-

“Disciple 4. This is overwatch 4. Please copy. Over.” The radio came to life again. Overwatch was their watch tower just above them on the wall. The man currently occupying that position today was Fritz. A good man, even if a lot of people gave him sideways glances. He had been a German soldier during world war two. But all soldiers posted to this base were brothers in arms, after all, they had all died doing the same thing…

“Overwatch. We copy, go ahead. Over.” 

“That rock, two hundred yards North. Looks like there might be a Hotel Delta there. Can you check it out? Over.” Fritz ordered, even though it sounded like a request. Mike quickly brought out his binoculars to see, and true enough. Someone was sitting there. Looked like a hell hound. 

“Solid copy. I’ll check it out.” 

“Understood Disciple 4. I will provide cover if things escalate. Overwatch out.” 

“I’m going down to check it out, if you hear a commotion, come quickly.” Mike turned to Logan and ordered. 

“Understood lad. Be careful, you never know what they might try and do. You sure you want to do this on your own?” Logan asked with a concerned look in his eye. 

“I got it under control-” Mike turned in the direction of the rock. “I hope.” He almost whispered. But he could feel his heart beginning to pound faster. Finally, something is happening. 

“Be safe. Shout and I’ll come running.” Logan reassured Mike as he began to walk towards the rock. Mike held up a thumbs up as he continued. 

It was time to find out just what this hellhound was up to. 

Chapter Text

Walking along the uneven ground, trying to navigate all the bigger rocks on the ground that could provide cover for anyone attempting to reach the base if they took a stealthier approach. Keeping his M4 in a semi-ready stance as he slowly walks towards the rock in question. He can see the hellhound much more clearly now. A female, style looks very goth, long grey hair, not bad looking-

Christ, what the hell are you thinking Fitzpatrick? Mike reprimanded himself. He had a job to do. Ascertain the threat, and if possible, get them to leave the one mile perimeter without issue. He moved with steady steps, trying to get his heart rate under control. This is the most excitement he has had since he was killed back on earth. 

He could see her ears perk up in response to the sound of his footsteps, but she did not turn to face him. Who the fuck do she think she is? Mike thought bitterly. There was nothing he hated more than not being taken seriously when he meant to. But that’s when he noticed the empty wine bottles on the ground. Christ, how long has she been there? He would need a word with Fritz on his power of perception when he was done here. 

“Ma’am? I’m sorry, but you’re in a-” 

“Go. Away.” She spoke coldly. Her voice dripping with venom, he could almost hear her growl with her teeth showing. Another bottle fell from her hands, and onto the ground. 

“So this is where the youth of today go to get drunk?” He picked up an empty bottle off the ground to examine it. “Hmmm, good year.” He lied, before throwing the bottle away again. 

“I told you, leave me alo-”  

“Yeah, I heard what you said. Doesn’t change the circumstances though.” She finally turned to look at him. Yup, she truly was a hellhound, but everything paled in comparison to her eyes, red eyes. They were almost urging him to go on. Some part of him said those were beautiful eyes. “You’re close enough to the base to be considered a potential threat. So, what’s your story, Mrs….?” 

“Came here because I heard no one comes around these parts. Wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Seems I now know why no one comes here. Dickheads patrol the place apparently." She replied, still with the same tone as before, mockingly almost, but there was a hint of… Sadness, or melancholy maybe. Either she was a good liar, or she really did have something to think about. 

In return, Mike lowered his rifle fully, letting it rest by its trap on his front plate as he rested his arms on it. “What’s your name?” He asked, trying to change his tone to something more caring. He didn’t really know why he’s  trying to bother with this. 

“Why do you care?” She asked, still venom in her voice, like she rejected this supposed mockery he was performing on her. It was the million dollar question though. 

“I don’t know.” He remarked after a period of silence. “Technically my only job currently is to see if you intend to breach the base-” Mike pointed behind him towards the base. “-And to escort you off the premises once I have established you are not a threat, at gunpoint if need be. But-” 

“Get to the point.” How rude 

“Something compels me to speak. Like-... Shit, I don’t know, like it’s the right thing to do.” Mike finally said. Vague as it may be. “Let me go first then. I’m Mike Fitzpatrick. Corporal now, but I used to be a sergeant before.” Mike finally pulled down the scarf covering his face, and removed the dust goggles that covered his eyes. “Nice to meet you.” 

“But you’re… human?” Her voice had changed from harsh to puzzled in a heartbeat. He could see how her eyes were looking him over like crazy, trying to figure out this newest mystery. She clearly tries to take in his features, no doubt the big nasty scar he had over his right eye drew attention. Another quirk they had, scars sustained in those moments up to the death were kept, and could never fade. 

“Last I checked.” He smiled. Adjusted his stance a bit. 

“But I thought you were a sinner?” It was like he could see the gears tick in her head, attempting to connect the dots. 

“Aren’t all humans sinners?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, somewhat confused. He had to admit, he never spent much time in church during his time alive, so he was a bit hazy on details… That reminded him that the base had its own church, and maybe it was time to frequent it more, given that the whole goddamn thing about religion was proven to be real. 

“Not what I meant, dickhead.” She rolled her eyes, her tone annoyed. 

“Then what did you mean?” He asked. It was actually a good chance to uncover some stuff. Apparently there was a difference in appearance between humans and sinners? So few people ventured outside the base, so no one really knew how things worked in hell. They always had their own little corner, and if it weren't for the extraction mission, they’d hardly ever leave the comfort of their fort. 

She sighed, long and heavy. “How long have you been in hell?” She then inquired.

“A couple of months, at least I think so. Time is… funny here.” He remarked, feeling the need to stretch out all of a sudden. “Haven’t been more than a mile from the base yet.” 

She rubbed her temples in annoyance, then let out another sigh. “When sinners die, and get sent to hell. They take different forms. Maybe in relation to their sin, maybe in relation to how they died. Either way… They don’t look like humans anymore. But you do…” 

“We all do here-” Once again gesturing to the base “We are not exactly like the others in hell, or so I have been told. We’re still mortal… Despite being killed back on earth. We have accepted a contract with heaven, hence why we are different.” He tried to explain it as best as it was explained to him. She looked him over for a moment, as if trying to figure out if he was bullshitting her. 

“Huh…. Not like I care anyway.” She dug up a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, but quickly groaned once she realized it was empty. When she looked back up at Mike, she saw him standing there, hand reached out, with a pack of cigarettes in his palm. 

“Bad habit I can’t seem to shake.” He smiled as he offered her one. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of the gesture. Until finally, she took a cigarette from the pack, and then studied it for a moment. 

“Lucky strike huh?” She asked. Never heard about the brand. Before bringing the cigarette to her lips. 

“It’s toasted” Mike said with a grin as he threw his lighter to her, she caught it with one hand. A zippo lighter, she once again studied it. A blue circle against a red background. The letters AA spelt inside the blue circle. Above, it said AIRBORNE, beneath it the circle, words spelt out DEATH FROM ABOVE. She lit the cigarette. 

“Thanks… I guess.” She did still look a bit puzzled by the gesture, but took a long drag of her cigarette before giving the lighter back to Mike, who lit up a cigarette of his own. 

“So… You never told me your name.” Mike then pointed out. She studied the human as she took another drag of the cigarette, exhaling the smoke through her noise. Clearly a debate was happening in her head, questioning if should give up her name. But, in the end, telling this stranger her name in exchange for a cigarette was a favorable deal.

“Loona.” She sighed, looking away from him and towards the city. 

Mike tasted the name on his tongue. “Loona” He whispered. It was a good name, he decided. He wasn’t sure why he liked it. Despite his whisper, she clearly heard him, the way those ears perk up is a nice indicator. Which also made Mike wonder if her tail would wag if she was happy. Though he doubted she would enjoy that question at the moment. “Well, Loona. What’s got you down and out?” 

“It’s nothing” she dismissed, almost before he had even finished his question. But her demeanor betrayed any words she could utter. Which made some part of Mike realize he had to pursue this subject. 

“You wouldn’t be sitting on the front porch of a military base, drinking shitty wine and smoking cigarettes if it was nothing.” Mike pointed out. Getting a bit closer to the hellhound and sat down on the rock. She clearly wasn’t expecting it, and she was trying to determine her response before Mike spoke up again. “So, I’ll ask again. Loona, what’s bothering you?” 

She was silent for a good long bit, and he didn’t push her into anything more, figuring she needed to do it in her own time. They smoked in silence. “Just… Life I guess?” She finally admitted. She tried to be nonchalant. “Mostly about my… Dad.” She took the last drag of her cigarette before flicking the cigarette bud off into the distance. Mike might have complained about littering, but this was hell after all. Mike gestured for her to go on. “Just… urgh…” She buried her head in her hands, or paws… Or whatever the correct terminology for hellhounds was. “I don’t know if he cares. It’s like-” The words were definitely a struggle for her to vocalize, or maybe just get in order. “I mean, he adopted me and he got me a job working for him, and he tries but… It just always comes out wrong!” She vented. “We had another fight, just before I got here.” She confessed. 

Mike hummed in acknowledgement. Adjusting his rifle to be more comfortable in his lap. “Shit. I don’t know why I bother telling you this. Look at me, first jarhead offers me a cigarette and I start telling my life story.” She sighed. Mike put a hand on her shoulder. She growled and he quickly took it off again, muttering a quick sorry. Making a mental note not to assume just how friendly they were with each other. 

“I’d bet dollars to doughnuts your life story is much more than just that.” He smiled. “Parents are always a hassle to figure out. Do they care or not? When I was just a kid, my parents were my entire world. Then… when I became a teenager, I hated them. Thought they were the cringest people in the world, purely there to embarrass me. Then…” Mike took a deep breath. “When I’m 15, my dad passes, car crash. And then I wish I had spent more time with him. Hearing his stories and whatnot. Just one last chance to go fishing with him… Parents aren’t perfect, it’s a hard thing to realize that, and some parents are down right cruel, but most of them try their best” When he looked over at her, she was paying attention, much more than she ever had prior in this conversation of theirs. “Anyway. I’m sure things are different on your end, and I wouldn’t want to assume anything. But just because people have trouble showing it, doesn’t mean they don’t care about you.” Mike thought about going all out, doing some attempt at psychoanalysis, but he had to remind himself that he didn’t even take a course in it when he was in school, and no one cares for an amateur armchair psychologist.

“Maybe.” She muttered quietly. She brought the bottle of wine to her lips, and took a healthy swig. She looking over at Mike, continuing drinking while Mike just smiled. She finally parted her lips from the bottle, rolled her eyes, sighed and offered it to Mike. 

“Appreciate the offer, but I’m gonna have to take a rain check on it. I’m not allowed to be under the influence while on guard duty.” He chuckled. “Don’t stop on my account though.” She gave him a look that clearly said wasn’t going to. Mike wondered just how much she intended to drink, not that he would reprimand her for it, he was just as likely to drink when the occasion called for it. Just too bad guard duty wasn’t such an occasion. 

“So, how did you die?” She asked after taking another large gulp of the wine. Her attempt at small talk was interesting, but maybe this was a common way to speak to people. 

Mike sighed. The memory of his death was still fresh in his mind, he suspected it always would be. There was always something to be said about trauma, either it sticks with you for life, or you forget about it, mind literally shutting it out. Guess he was stuck with the memory. “Afghanistan. About a week before we were meant to pull out of the country. Convoy was ambushed. RPG round straight into the side of the humvee. I’m thrown from the side, and then I try to help the others out of the car… Then the taliban that is hiding out on the hillside gets the kill shot on me while I’m trying to rescue the last one.” He summarized. He figured she wouldn’t be that interested. “Small act compared to some of the others. You should hear their stories.” He looked at her and smiled.  He suspected some people were hesitant to share their story of death, but on the base, they all shared their stories with each other, built trust that way. 

“So what, you did something good in life and now you get to guard some stick in the ground?” Crude version, but not inaccurate. He laughed a bit at that. 

“Yeah, pretty much. Officially it’s called the Covenant of lost soldiers. We all call the contract through. Serve until judgement day. That kind of jazz. Base’s official name is Fort Redux” Mike explained. He looked over at Loona again. “What about you? What’s your story.” 

“I was born here, idiot.” She quickly pointed out. Now it was Mike’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, I realize that. I mean, what do you do here? Got a job?” 

“I do.” She deliberately didn’t celebrate. Which he chose to respect. No need to push her too far. Those teeth did look sharp enough to rip a man’s throat out. 

“Is it fun? Out there.” He nodded his head towards the city. 

“There are some good clubs and bars.” She answered. “Why? You thinking of going?” 

“I got leave in a few days. Almost none of us ever leave the base, but we are allowed to if we want. Just as long as we can make it back to curfew. Been thinking about going out to check it out for an evening.” 

“You want me to be your guide?” She sounded almost disgusted by the thought. 

“Nah, no need to waste your time being a tour guide for the new kid on the block. Just give me some recommendations, and I can check it out for myself.” Mike chuckled. “That way, you can also ensure I’m staying away from the spot you are currently at. I can tell you think I’m cringy” He laughed. She huffed in, what could be considered, amusement. 

“Huh. Alright. I can text you the names of a few places that are pretty cool. What’s your number?” 

“Already asking for my number? This is going better than expected.” He chuckled to himself. He thought it was a pretty good joke, but one look at Loona told him he was alone in this assessment. 

She growled. “Don’t push your luck, dickhead.” He chose to heed that advice. 

“Anyway. I don’t have a phone.” He confessed nonchalantly. Clearly, by the way Loona was looking at him, she did not share the sentiment that it was so casual to not own a phone. 

“The fuck do you mean you don’t have one?” 

“Haven’t gotten around to ask God almighty for a new one yet.” He joked, but it was at least half true. That, and he figured there probably wasn’t much need for a phone down here. Turns out he was wrong. He did have a phone when he was alive, but between all the deployments he was on, he never really used it much. Not at lot of signal in the mountains of Afghanistan. 

She groaned in annoyance. “You got anything to write on?” She then asked, after giving her temples a furious rubbing. He handed her a notepad, and a pen that he always kept on him. She scribbled some numbers on it, and promptly handed it back to him with a huff. “My number. When you get a phone, text me and I’ll send you places of interest.” 

“Thanks.” He smiled as he looked down on the note. 

“Whatever.” She responded, turning her attention back to her bottle, which must have been close to finished now. Christ, this girl can drink. “So, what’s the deal with this base anyway? Just an excuse for you to play soldiers and ride around town killing demons?” Her question caught him off guard. 

“You mean you don’t know?” He was confused. He figured every demon was aware of what was inside the base. That’s why they always tried to get in, right? Attempt to go through the portal to heaven and cause as much mayhem as possible. 

“All I ever heard is that you dicks keep to yourself, then once in a while you take a ride out in your armored cars, kill some demons, then head home. Then when the friends and family of those that were killed get angry, they try to assault the base, you kill them and throw them in the sea. How am I doing?” Seems like everyone in the base operated on a different worldview than the rest of hell. Christ, how could he have been so blind? Of course, none of these demons have ever seen the portal, and they don’t go around advertising it. So obviously, the people that attack the base are just angry people looking for vengeance for their loved ones. 

For just a moment, Mike thought about telling about the portal, but he chose against it. Still, the extractions were no secret, as far as he knew. “Well, for starters, we don’t go around killing random demons, or sinners for that matter. We extract people who are destined for heaven, but have been pulled down here by dark forces.” He explained. 

The way she looked at him, like she couldn’t quite believe it. It made Mike wonder why more demons don’t try and storm the base. Kill the people that they perceive to be killing their friends and family. Maybe they had just given up on the idea after too many failed attempts, so the killing just became another part of hell. It raised another question as well. While the extraction team had the greenlight to shoot and kill demons, sinners or whatever if they got in the way, they didn’t go out of their way to kill. So just how many residents of hell did they kill on their field trips? 

“I have never heard about boring goodie two shoes being pulled into hell.” She pointed out. He had no idea if it was common knowledge or not. Didn’t change the facts of the matter. He had seen those poor souls as they were unloaded from the armored car and sent into the portal. The amount of relief on their faces was immeasurable. “Figured heaven would have angels on that job, not washed up soldiers.” While the comment might have been rude, her tone carried a more sarcastic. 

“By all accounts, God could snap his fingers and they would be transported straight to heaven. I figure it’s just they needed a job to give us, so we could earn our salvation. So, what’s better than to stick us here on a base, and give us assignments to guard and extract.” He theorized. It was just that, a theory. Maybe there was some theologian explanation for it. “Also, Washed up soldiers? Fuck you.” He tried to pretend to be hurt, but from the small smile on her face, she didn’t believe his bullshit one bit. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

“So what’s-” She was interrupted by his radio going off. 

“The hell’s going on lad? We sent you to clear off some mutt and you spent over 20 minutes talking with her!” Clearly Logan did not appreciate Mike’s attempt to clear off the intruder. “Over.” Logan added, making Mike laugh. The Scot still wasn’t used to the radio etiquette they had introduced. 

“I am clearing her off. Over.” Mike reaffirmed. 

“By what? Getting her life story? You’re lucky I convinced Fritz to not report you, you goddamn daff bastard. Just get her out of there and report back!” Followed by a moment of silence. “Over.” 

 “Copy that. Out.” And with that, he turned his attention back to Loona. Who was clearly enjoying watching Mike getting chewed out over the radio. 

“uh oh, someone is in trouble.” She had almost the look of a sister that had gotten her brother in trouble with their parents. 

“Whatever. Best you leave now. The next shift that comes on in a few minutes is a lot more trigger happy. In fact, I would take this spot off your favorite places to drink list.” Mike recommended. She stood up, and only then did he notice just how tall she was. “Christ on the cross. What the hell do they feed you?” He laughed. She was almost as tall as him, and he was the tallest soldier on base. 

“I’m done anyway.” She threw her last bottle on the ground. Making Mike sigh at the litter. “Good luck on your field trip.” She smiled. And with that, she took off. He waved her goodbye, but she just gave him the finger. 

“See you around, Loona.” He remarked. Watching her walk off into the distance. And with that, Mike went back to the gate. The furious look in Logan’s eyes was clear enough to see when he walked up, as soon as he joined his friend at the gate, Logan smacked Mike on the back of his head. Not too effective, considering the helmet Mike was wearing, but still, he played into it. “Ouch” 

“You better start thinking clearly, son.” Logan lectured. “You got a job to do. Not mess around with the local population.” 

“Sorry.One thing led to another, and I suppose it was just interesting to see the other perspective.” Mike remarked. But before he could continue, the next shift came out to relieve them. They spent some time recounting the events of the day, and mercifully, Logan didn’t snitch on him. While they took off their equipment in the guard house, the extraction team came back. Some poor sod was about to finally get where they were supposed to go.

Mike threw himself on the sofa. Hoping to get a nap before his next shift started in four hours.