The Reluctant Reaper

Helltown After Hours

The soul-powered clock on the wall of DoSA clicked over to 18:66. Quitting time. Darius logged out of his terminal, the screen fading to a dull red glow that matched the perpetual twilight outside. Another day in paradise.

He stepped out of DoSA building into the teeming streets of Helltown. The air was thick with the scent of brimstone and despair, with just a hint of car exhaust. Yeah, they had cars in Hell. Mostly muscle cars and gas-guzzling SUVs. The emissions standards down here were a joke.

Helltown was a study in contradictions. Towering spires of obsidian and bone reached into the smoke-filled sky, while at street level, neon signs advertised everything from "Soul Food" diners to "Eternal Damnation Insurance." A group of imps scurried past, briefcases in hand, probably heading to Helltown's financial district to cook some books.

As Darius made his way down Perdition Avenue, he couldn't help but notice the looks he was getting. A pair of succubi whispered to each other as he passed, their eyes trailing over him with a mix of desire and fear. A hulking demon manning a hot dog stand (don't ask what's in them) gave him a respectful nod.

"Thorne!" a voice called out. Darius turned to see Malachai, a fellow Reaper from Accounts Receivable, jogging up to him. "Hey, heard you totally crushed it today. Twelve souls over quota?"

Darius shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Just doing my job."

Malachai laughed, slapping him on the back with a clawed hand. "Always the modest one. Some of us were heading to the Ninth Circle for drinks. Care to join? First round's on me."

The Ninth Circle was Helltown's hottest nightclub, a place where demons and damned souls alike went to forget their eternal torment for a few hours. Normally, Darius would be tempted. But after the day he'd had...

"Rain check," he said. "Got some things to take care of."

Malachai's eyes widened slightly. "Oh? Heard you had a meeting with the big boss today. Anything juicy?"

Darius kept his face neutral. "Just boring administrative stuff. You know how it is."

He didn't look entirely convinced but knew better than to push. "Right, right. Well, catch you later then, Thorne. Keep up the good work!"

As Malachai headed off, Darius could already imagine the rumors that would be swirling by morning. In Hell, gossip spread faster than a plague in a medieval village.

Darius made his way to his apartment building, a towering monstrosity of black steel and smoked glass. The elevator was out of order, as usual. Probably another tenant forgetting to feed it the required daily sacrifice. He took the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

His apartment was on the 66th floor (of course). He unlocked the door, disarming the ward with a drop of blood. The lights flickered on automatically, revealing a space that was part modern loft, part medieval torture chamber. Hey, everybody had their own decorating style.

Darius shrugged off his jacket, heading straight for the bar. A glass of Hellfire Whiskey materialized as he approached. Say what you want about Hell, but the room service was impeccable.

As he took a sip, feeling the familiar burn, his Reaper System interface suddenly sprang to life. A holographic display appeared in front of him, numbers and charts floating in the air.

DAILY REPORT

Souls Collected: 66

Quota Exceeded By: 12

Efficiency Rating: 98.7%

Then, something new appeared:

SPECIAL COMMENDATION: EXEMPLARY PERFORMANCE

REWARD UNLOCKED: ENHANCED SOUL PERCEPTION (24-HOUR DURATION)

Darius frowned. In all his time as a Reaper, he'd never seen a "reward" like this. The System was acting... different. Almost like it was trying to help him. But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

As he pondered this, a sultry voice cut through his thoughts. "Well, well. Look who finally decided to come home."

Darius turned to see Astarte leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. She was a sight to behold, all curves and shadows in all the right places. Her eyes, literal pools of liquid fire, regarded him with amusement.

"Astarte," he said, raising his glass in greeting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She sauntered over, her movements liquid grace. "Can't a girl drop by to see her favorite Reaper?" Her hand trailed along his arm. "Especially when she hears he had a very interesting day."

Darius set down his glass, pulling her close. "Been talking to Malachai, have you?"

Astarte's laugh was like silk over gravel. "Oh, darling. I have my sources." Her lips brushed against his ear. "Now, why don't you tell me all about your meeting with Lilith?"

Darius knew this game. Astarte wasn't just here for pleasure. In Hell, information was power, and she was one of the best at extracting it. But two could play at that game.

"Not much to tell," he said, his hands roaming. "Just boring administrative stuff. You know how it is."

She pouted, a look that would make most demons spill their deepest secrets. "Come now, Darius. Surely you can do better than that."

Darius grinned, spinning her around and pressing her against the bar. "I can think of much better things to do with my mouth right now."

Her body molded against his, all soft curves and hard angles. He ran his hands down her sides, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. His fingers brushed against the base of her tail, the smooth scales a stark contrast to her silken flesh.

Astarte let out a soft gasp as Darius's fingers dug into her hips, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against her ass, she wanted to reap it open, setting the beast free. Her tail coiled around his leg, the tip caressing his inner thigh.

With a low growl, Darius tore at the straps of her dress, baring her shoulders and the upper swell of her breasts. His mouth descended on her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, marking her as his. Astarte's eyes flashed, pools of liquid fire smoldering with desire.

"Yess" Astarte arched into his touch, her head falling back against his shoulder. Her hands, tipped with razor-sharp claws, gripped the edge of the bar, leaving deep gouges in the wood as Darius's hands roamed her body, stroking and squeezing, igniting a fire in her veins.

He spun her to face him, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, a battle for dominance that left them both breathless. Darius's hands tangled in her hair, tugging hard enough to send sparks of pain-laced pleasure shooting through her. Astarte's forked tongue darted out hissing, tasting the whiskey on his lips.

With a sharp tug, he ripped the front of her dress, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze.

"Ahhh" Astarte moaned as he palmed the heavy globes of flesh, his thumbs brushing roughly over her puffy nipples. Her obsidian skin seemed to absorb the light, casting enticing shadows across her curves.

Darius lifted her onto the bar, shoving aside glasses and bottles with a crash. He stepped between her spread thighs, his arousal pressing against her core. Astarte wrapped her legs around his waist, the heat of her body searing even through his clothes. Her tail snaked up his back, the pointed tip tracing the line of his spine.

His hands slid up her thighs, bunching her skirt around her waist. With a quick motion, he tore away her undergarments, leaving her bare and exposed to his touch. Astarte's head fell back as he stroked the slicked folds of her pussy, his fingers delving deep into her heat. Her claws dug into his shoulders, drawing blood and eliciting a hiss of pleasure-pain from Darius.

Darius watched her face as he worked her closer to the edge, reveling in the way her lips parted and her eyes fluttered shut. He could feel her tightening around his fingers, her body trembling with need. The murky scent of arousal and desire filled the air, a heady perfume that drove him to the brink of madness.

Just as Astarte was about to reach climax, Darius withdrew his hand, leaving her aching and empty. She let out a frustrated whine, her hips bucking against nothing. Her tail lashed back and forth, betraying her agitation.

With a wicked grin, Darius unfastened his pants, freeing his straining erection. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her pussy. Astarte's eyes, now glowing with an infernal light, locked with his, a silent plea and a challenge all in one.

Darius's grip tightened on her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh where skin met scales. He held her in place, poised to claim her fully, to plunge into the fiery depths of her desire...

****

Afterward, they lay amid tangled sheets that might have been silk or living shadow, Astarte sighed, as she made one last attempt tracing patterns across Darius chest "So, about that meeting..."

Darius silenced her with a kiss. "Sorry, babe. Classified."

She sighed, a sound of both frustration and admiration. "You're no fun, Darius."

"That's not what you were saying a few minutes ago."

Astarte laughed, disentangling herself from him. "Fair enough. I know when I'm beaten. For now." She dressed with inhuman speed, pausing at the door. "Take care of yourself, Darius. I hear things are getting... interesting out there."

With a wink and a swirl of shadow, she was gone.

Darius lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Astarte's warning echoed in his mind, mixing with thoughts of Lilith's assignment and the strange behavior of his Reaper System.

As if on cue, the System sprang to life again. A message appeared in glowing red letters:

SPECIAL ASSIGNMENT ACTIVATION: T-MINUS 12 HOURS

PREPARE FOR SOUL EXTRACTION BEYOND STANDARD PARAMETERS

Darius sat up, suddenly very awake. Whatever was coming, it was big. And he had a feeling that after tomorrow, nothing would be the same.

Welcome to Hell, enjoy the ride.