"Finnish you off? Hee hee!" Zarathel giggled softly at the thought. "Oh no. There is no escape from hell. No-one gets off that easily. Oh no. Once you're in hell you're here for the rest of eternity, however long Himself chooses to make that." She blinked at the thought. A disturbing rumour that was echoing through the underworld. She shook her head, because it was just a rumour, and in Hell, rumours were two for a penny. And right now she had a job to do. "Anyway the Boss wants to see you. Well, not you necessarily, but your arrival was well publicised, you know? Written in a blaze of glory across the sky!" She gestured, an ironic smirk on her face.<br/><br/>"Not every day we get an new arrival from<i>Up There</i>, Eh Mistress?" Gorbix grunted, he and his warriors standing guard, their weapons already slick with the blood of the over-curious. Not that those they used them on were slain - there was no death in the afterlife - or rather, the burning pits of hell<i>were</i>the 'second death'. But the demonic swords sucked part of the soul away, as well as cutting the physical form. While chopping off a head was only a temporary wound down here, the loss of a part of the soul, that left the victim weaker, less able to bring flesh back together. Less able to fight, too. And everything in hell was a fight. A fight to stay out of the burning pits that opened at random, a fight for the meagre morsels of dry food that were thrown to them, a fight to get to the stagnant pools of black, stinking water that occasionally appeared. Those that lost, did not die, they simply drifted into the pit, their wails of agony combining with millions of others, creating an almost musical sound.<br/><br/>Zar nodded. "Indeed." The demon's finger crooked and the unfortunate fallen one flew suddenly to within a few feet, stopping just as instantly. She was grinning now. Eliza was within physical reach and Zarathel reached out and took hold of one of the angels nipples. The sensitive flesh burst into flame at the touch, blackening and crisping, and instantly regenerating. "You know, I could never understand why the old sadist gave us nipples, boobs and cunts. And gave the guys cocks and balls. Never mind why He gave all males everywhere nipples, I mean that's just sick... But why give sexual organs to immortal beings that are sterile and technically asexual? Fucking arsehole intended us to fall, and end up using them! You know that don't you? Deep down inside, you<i>know</i>Lucifer was right. Oh and speaking of The Devil, yeah, he told me to come get whatever landed and take it to see him. He added something to that though, Lizzy-bits. He said I needed to prepare you for his presence. What I think he meant was that I should teach you proper respect. You know?" A razor sharp talon snapped out of the end of the forefinger of Zar's other hand and sliced easily through Eliza's flesh, separating the nipple Zar was holding from the rest of her. The bit in the demon's fingers crumbled imstantly to ash and dust, as the flesh reformed itself.<br/><br/>"So, I think we should head to my place, where I will interrogate you for a few decades, then we can flip back in time and go see The Boss." Zar dumped the fallen angel to the ground, then grabbed a double handful of the golden hair and stepped forward, pressing Eliza'a face into her crotch. The demon spread her wings and launched herself into the air, not bothering to avoid the sudden rain of burning sulphur that came pelting down. The demon's power was such that it barely touched her. She soared across the planes of ash, mountains of basalt, and lakes of boiling lava, all of then filled with tortured souls. Dante had been wrong. Hell was not hierarchical, not in the way he described. Hitler was down there somewhere, shorn of his moustache and hair, and with no mouth, unable to eat or drink, but worse for him, unable to speak. Unable to rally the crowds to support him, unable to tell who he was and the great things he had done. All the worst ones were restrained in some way like that; Joseph Stalin, Julius Ceasar, Richard Nixon, Margaret Thatcher.<br/><br/>The landscape of smoke and fire was broken suddenly by a hissing, steaming, boiling lake of water, that spat and leapt. Zar dived through the cloud of scalding steam as if it weren't there, then into a sudden and totally unexpected snowstorm on the other side, the temperature having plummeted from around 150°C (302°F) to -150°C (-238°F). Or 123K, if you prefer. The wilderness of ice stretched off suddenly in all directions, and Zarathel sped down to land with a hiss of steam on the frozen surface. "I made this bit the way it is. My little joke, you know? People say about hell freezing over, and a snowball's chance in hell, shit like that? Well those fuckers are locked in the ice here!" She stamped and her hoof shattered the layer of ice allowing a terrified scream to escape. Dimly seen beneath the translucent surface was a skinny yet undoubtedly female form.<br/><br/>"This way, bitch." An ice palace emerged from the swirling blizzard, and Zar led the way inside, her hands still firmly in Eliza's hair. Several of Gorbix troops were stationed around it and they bowed as she passed them, a tradition she preferred to the more recent trend of standing to attention and saluting. Her escort headed off to the Legion's baracks, and Gorbix headed off to do his own thing. Inside, it seemed that they had been transported from Hell to Twenty-first century Earth, and into the set of Fifty Shades Of Grey. Zar threw her prisoner at a wall, which instantly grew glowing-hot steel restraints that fastened around her wrists, ankles, waist and neck.<br/><br/>"Now then, now we have a little privacy, it's time for you and I to have a little chat. See, I know you, Eliza. I know what a goody-two-shoes you are. So what I really want to know is what the<i>FUCK</i>did you do to piss the old bastard off, so much that He sent you down here?"