Sex is a Job Description? Ch. 11

"If you so desire," the hybrid replied, placing his cockhead against the cleft of her thighs. He could see it took everything in Anathane's power not to slam herself against him in a blind bloodlust and throw him to the floor.

"P-please," she begged, grating her claws on either side of the slab.

"You'll have to convince me you deserve it, Anathane. You realize what-"

Another Anathane warped into the chamber, holding a succubus in her arms. "All ready to...to...gods..." She disappeared and the Anathane beneath Jack turned a golden color, a ball of fire sparking to life between her horns as she changed color.

"We've completed our half," she stated, her voice booming throughout the chamber.

"And now for every inch of mine," replied Jack, thrusting into her down to the base.

Anathane screamed in total, utter ecstasy.

------------ The Holding Center, Earth ------------

"What do you mean I can't bring the Nagant?!" Tom yelled, holding out his rifle in its case and shaking with as much force as he could use to demonstrate that he was upset. "It's definitely within my right as an agent to take this thing with me!"

Arms Inspector Cogwell sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Look, I said no because the ammunition you need for it is impossible to import at this time. Also, it's extremely expensive. And furthermore, the only approved weapons on the list as of two days ago are your standard M1911 and any blunt or bladed weapons designed for melee combat and not exceeding thirteen pounds and two ounces."

As he finished, Tom bit his bottom lip in frustration and then handed the rifle over to Cogwell.

"The sword stays then," the agent stated, adjusting the highland claymore strapped across his back diagonally.

At that, Arms Inspector Cogwell rolled his eyes and handed Tom back his M1911 and five magazines of ammunition. "Your sword is lucky these lists haven't dropped weapon variants over the years."

"Don't I know it," Tom replied sarcastically, following the Finnish agent who'd had his weapons inspected and been given ammunition before him. Tom caught up with the agent, who nodded to Tom with a smile.

"Sometimes I hate the people I work for," Tom said, sparking up a conversation to ease some of the tension permeating the building.

"I do too," the agent replied. "But then again, it is a job and most bosses are bad one, right Tom?"

Tom nodded. "Right...uh..."

"Mattiesko," the agent replied, shoving a magazine into the grip of his gun. He safed the weapon and stuck it in its holster at his hip, covering it with his coat.

"Right, sorry. I'm shitty with names. It took me like a week to learn Greg and Harvey's names and I saw them almost every day when I started here."

"It's fine. By the way, do you know why we are required to wear a suit to go to Hell?"

Tom holstered his own weapon and shrugged. "The Director told me it was to make us look presentable. I think it's bullshit no matter what the reason is. We should be going in in body armor and riot gear."

"Or a brigade of soldiers," Mattiesko quipped as they reached the elevator. They entered and held the door for the agent behind them and all three were taken to the second-lowest floor of the Holding Center. As the doors opened, they showed their ID's to the two guards and were allowed access after being scanned with a device that looked like a taser with a set of blue lights at the end. Each light blinked blue once and then the agents were allowed to pass one at a time.

Down the hallway, a large staircase led further down into the complex. Here, the plaster and panels hadn't been put up and were replaced with gray concrete all the way down. Tom guessed this was where even the private contractors weren't allowed to venture twice, or had all been made to "disappear" after the construction was done with.

At the bottom stood three more soldiers, one of them armed with a sniper rifle. Behind them, the Director waited impatiently with a clipboard and a pen, scratching something down on the papers he held. He held up his hand as the agents approached.

"Name," he said gruffly.

"Mattiesko Helsinki."

"Arms in service."

"M1911 sidearm, five magazines of ammunition," the Finn answered, pulling his coat open to show the weapon and ammunition.

"Cleared for service." He looked up from the clipboard. "Name."

"Thomas Lanzig."

"Arms in service."

"M1911 sidearm, five magazines of ammunition, one claymore."

The director scratched something on the paper and motioned for Tom to step aside. "Soldier, continue the checklist. I'll be back." Without saying anything, one of the soldiers at the base of the stairs nodded and took the clipboard.

The Director took Tom aside and motioned for the agent to give him something. Tom pulled the palm-sized amulet he had gotten from Andrea out of his back pocket and handed it to the Director.

"So...?"

"Take off your shirt and be quiet." The director turned the face of the amulet upside-down and split it off from the back of the amulet. Tom took off his jacket, tie and shirt, oddly curious what the amulet was going to do. The Director stood quietly for a moment with a look of contemplation on his face that looked as if it were chiseled from stone. Tom grew more and more uncomfortable as the Director just stood in front of him thinking, holding the two pieces of the amulet apart like he was trying to decide what to do with them.

After a short while longer, the Director held three of his fingers outstretched and pointed at Tom's head.

He murmured to himself. "Seven chakras, God, man, truth, soul, power, creation, sex. Offset toward sex. So..." He lowered his hand until his middle finger came to rest against the center of Tom's ribs where the process at the end of his sternum met the body. "Here." He put the face of the amulet against Tom's chest.

Tom raised his hand and held the face of the amulet up as the Director walked behind him and placed the other half of the thing on his back just below the space between his shoulders. He held it against his back and connected the cords on it to the face of the amulet. They seemed to magnetize to the face and stuck firmly as soon as they made contact with it.

"Keep it still," the Director ordered. Tom didn't move at all. He was too busy staring at the cords as they flattened against his skin and pressed against him like they were tightening.

"What's going-"

"Stay still damnit," the Director snapped in a low tone. Tom's breath caught. The amulet itself flattened until it had all but sunken into his chest. He stared at the thing until the Director stood in front of him and told him to redress and move to the other end of the room.

Tom worked his shirt and tie on slowly, awestruck at the dark gold amulet stuck in his body. He touched the thing tentatively, but it didn't feel like metal. Brow knitted deeply, he moved the face of the amulet around, and found that indeed, all he was touching was his skin. The image moved and stretched with his skin, as did the cords that held it in place.

It looked like he'd gotten a tattoo of a sixteen-pointed sun inside a circle on his chest.

He shook the strangeness of the thing out of his head and continued to dress, eventually getting into presentable order. Tom looked to where the other agents had assembled, and moved to where Greg and Harvey stood, steering clear of Allen as he did so. Allen had been more than just strange recently. He'd demanded articles of Ceria's clothing from Tom, which the teen had only just managed to scrounge up from the time Ceria had removed her panties in his bathroom.

The assembled agents quietly waited in a line for several warlocks, each wearing nothing more than a large obsidian torc around his neck. Each of them worked on painting a stone that would fit into a slot on the wall that formed an arch, in their own blood. Tom suddenly found a great deal more respect for Section Thirteen as he watched grown men bite through their fingertips without any noticeable discomfort and use their middle fingers to write runes in the red fluid.

This continued for a few minutes before the warlocks each bandaged their fingers, stood up, and placed their stones in their respective places. The rest of the agents had filed in by this time, and all of them waited to be assessed by Brohund and the Director before making their final descent into Hell.

The warlock holding the keystone of the archway stood still in the maw of the dormant portal as the Director and Brohund made their way over to the agents.

"They're all going to die, you realize," Brohund said casually, disregarding the men, women, and demons standing not ten feet away.

The Director slapped the four-armed demon in the back of the head and gave him a stare that meant nothing less than death. Brohund only held eye contact for a few moments before diverting his gaze in reluctant and annoyed defeat, unable to match the old badger for death glares. Meanwhile, Division Two's agents stood ramrod stiff, waiting for that same glare to pass them over. The Director cleared his throat to speak.

"You're about to enter Hell through the Occulus Astrum in Abyssus, the eye staring into Hell. For short, we call it Hellgazer." He motioned toward the large stone circle being completed by the insertion of the keystone into its housing on the wall.

"All of them," Brohund sneered.

"It is your duty to come back alive. You've been briefed three times on your orders and I expect nothing less than total success from the lot of you. That being said, don't get off track or disobey the guidelines laid out for you in your briefings. Go with pride and honor. Witho-"

The room exploded with light and the roar of thunder, causing ties and hair to whip around toward the staircase. Two agents were blown off their feet outright and all eyes turned toward to far wall, now filled with the shine of a dark gold star and roaring with radiant waves of noise.

"Without any further instructions or advice!" the Director continued, yelling over the rumble of the portal that had opened. "I send you through the Occulus Astrum in Abyssus to Hell with all the authority of a Special Divisions Director and the power invested in the aforementioned rank! Good luck and return safely!"

The agents turned toward the portal, emanating a warm wind that continued to blow ties back and set hair against gravity. The warlocks made their way quickly out of the room, unable to stay in the presence of a divide between the realms without heavier protection that their torcs. Allen seemed to be unaffected with a tightly-would band of metal bearing runes around his head. He wore a smile as they started toward the portal.

As the first agent entered the portal, sound imploded toward the light, and then boomed outwards with a flash of gold that bathed everyone in its presence. Tom had to shield his eyes from it the light was so bright.

"Oof!"

"...mans will never learn."

Tom lowered his arm from his face and found an agent on the floor and an enormous knight wearing full plate mail and holding a shield as tall as a man. The room stood still for a moment as the knight turned his head and surveyed the room.

"The building has been compromised. Lockdown status 'Nebula'!" the Director roared as the knight took a step forward.

Out from the portal came similarly-armed men, holding swords and shields and filing forth with great haste. Several of the agents were driven to the ground and held in place by metal boots and swordtips.

It took several seconds for the agents to understand what was going on, and they quickly began to scatter. Men and women all made a mad dash for the stairs, pulling their weapons out. The three soldiers at the base of the stairs raised their weapons and began to fire, bringing down one of the armor-clad knights with a steady stream of gunfire.

No sooner had they begun to train their sights on another knight, the giant surged forward, raising a sword that looked as if it could cleave a man in half with just the force of gravity guiding it.

The giant's head snapped back as a .50 caliber round put a hole straight through his helmet. He stumbled as machinegun fire stuttered across the face of his shield. The huge knight recovered quickly and plunged his sword through the chest of one of the soldiers, lifting the man into the air and letting the blade cut cleanly through his neck and head, gravity dragging his body over its edge.

Tom and the other agents hurried up the stairs and the soldiers who'd been guarding the elevator met them at the top, raising their rifles toward their pursuers. Shields came up and gunshots filled the air. The heavy thud of metal against metal rang out and Tom felt as if his left eardrum had burst as he passed the muzzle of one of the rifles barking a steady stream of bullets in the opposite direction.

The Director made his way up the stairs, downing two knights as they raised their swords to him. He pushed another six bullets into his revolver as the giant knight neared him, raising his shield to cover his huge armored form.

"Where the Hell is the security team?!" he roared, bouncing two bullets across the face of the giant's shield.

Tom could only watch from the elevator as agents were driven back, offering what looked like little resistance to the advancing armored group. They formed a phalanx shoulder to shoulder across the breadth of the hallway and moved forward slowly, bullets hitting home with apparently no more affect than stones thrown by a child.

"Get me the security team!" the Director roared into his collar. Garbled static met his command and he growled in frustration. "They've planted a mole," he spat, reloading his revolver and taking another shot before assessing the state of his agents.

Of the twenty seven men, women, and demons gathered originally, only fifteen had made it up here, and seven disappeared as the elevator doors closed behind their exit.

"What do we do, sir?" Tom asked, reloading his pistol and unloading the magazine uselessly against one of the knights' helms.

"Go down fighting," Veronica replied, stepping forward. She tossed away her gun and balled her fists tightly.

As the knights neared the eight remaining agents, they slowed to a halt and the giant moved forward through their number, bullets ricocheting off his armor. A large hand rose toward the helm atop his head and removed it, revealing a hardened, grim face bearing a long scar down from behind the right ear to the chin.

"We're here for Ceria's human lover, no one else. Give him up and we will leave you to your business with the lady," he said in a stern, resounding voice.

The Director stepped forward and loaded two bullets into his revolver, standing in front of the agents under his care.

"You're going home empty-handed today. We don't have him."

The giant gave the Director a hard look. "Usher Lanos. I have been waiting to see your face for millennia," the demon said, pushing his helmet back on and smacking his sword against his tower shield. "I will finish you today."

"Stop," called a voice. Vendr marched forward, shield up and sword raised. The Director raised his pistol and took aim.

"One good shot," he muttered.

"Vendr, the Lord has no time to waste on your petty grudges. Take the boy and leave!" the voice snapped. Suddenly, the giant was lifted off his feet by four large arms and carried backwards slowly.

"Unhand me, coward! I will have my vengeance! Usher Lanos will die today!"

Brohund snarled at the Director as he wrestled with the giant in his four enormous arms. "This is a waste of time. Hand him over."

"Molon Labe," the Dorector replied, firing two rounds into the four-armed demon's head. Brohund's face went blank and he dropped like a sack of bricks. Vendr landed on the floor and righted himself quickly, returning to his battle stance.

"Your life, your soul, and my vengeance in one swordstroke," the demon growled, advancing again toward the Director.

"Sword, boy," the veteran agent said to Tom, holding out his hand. Tom quickly unsheathed his blade and tossed it awkwardly to the Director, almost unable to even think as the older man picked the clattering weapon up off the floor and held it upright.

"Vendr, what wool do you think you're pulling over my eyes?" asked a calm, collective voice over the din of Vendr's clinking plate mail.

Vendr dropped to one knee in an instant and tossed his sword and shield away, lowering his head like a devout disciple addressing a deity.

"Lord, I hide nothing from you," the giant replied subserviently, not raising his head to the demon that approached with all the regal confidence of medieval nobility. Tom watched the noble demon remove his helmet.

"Good afternoon," the hellspawned noble said in a smooth, congenial tone. "One of you is coming back with me to die. I suggest that you make peace with whatever powers you believe will receive you." He turned and quipped amusedly, "They won't. But you humans do love the notion of resting in peace."

The noble demon made his way back down the stairs and found more knights teleporting into the room with agents in their hands, dozens of men and women herded against one wall at swordpoint. Tom and the others were put against the wall and the knights lined up opposite of them, tossing guns and Tom's sword into a pile in the corner. To the right, the portal's maw bellowed its war cry just as it had earlier. Tom tucked his tie into his shirt to keep it from fluttering around in Veronica's face.

"Do not say anything to him," she warned. Tom was only just able to hear her, but nodded that he understood.

Vendr and his lord stood at the end of the line, surveying the situation as their troops held the top of the staircase secure. The two of them walked down the line slowly, Vendr's lord sniffing each agent before moving on to the next. When they reached the Director, Vendr lagged behind for a moment and glared hard at the man before continuing with his lord.

They reached Veronica and the odd pair stopped.

"Fentin, it's not me. I can assure you she's the last one that I want to take to bed."

Tom's heart skipped a beat. This was him, the demon that Jona had talked about. This was the reason they were all being taken to Hell. The teen's stomach lurched and he barely kept himself from vomiting. His knees grew weak and he had to use the wall for support, trembling violently.

"Please discipline her, Vendr," Fentin commanded as he turned to face Tom. Vendr smashed Veronica's face with an armored fist so hard it threw the demon against the concrete, cracking it. Veronica's nose was flattened and several of her teeth left her mouth, along with a great deal of blood. Vendr picked her up by the throat and drove his fist into her stomach, the faint snap of ribs audible even over the thunder of the portal not twenty feet away.

When she was released, she sank to the floor, coughing blood and wheezing. Vendr then grabbed her by her hair and threw her across the room. Veronica skittered across the cold floor and hit the wall, cracking her skull as her head swung against it. She raised her hand toward Vendr, but collapsed flat against the floor a moment later and lay motionless, save for the convulsions of her body as she vomited blood twice. Vendr moved toward her with slow, malign intent.

"Vendr I said to discipline her, not to kill her. That is more than enough," Fentin snapped annoyedly. Vendr stopped, balled his fist, and then relented wordlessly to his lord. He returned to Fentin's side and they continued.

Tom had lost all composure now. He was done for. He'd just watched the most powerful person he knew in the Special Divisions be utterly destroyed without any trouble whatsoever. Fentin looked Tom in the eyes and sniffed him.