9:00 AM - HellCorp HQ Lobby
HellCorp looked exactly like you'd expect a demonic megacorporation to look: all obsidian glass, infernal lighting, and motivational posters that said things like "DEVOUR. DELIVER. DOMINATE."
I stepped through the revolving doors and instantly regretted the blazer. It was hot inside—sulfur hot, like someone had installed a volcano under the HVAC system and called it "ambiance."
"ID?" the receptionist barked.
She was a succubus in business casual—red horns, immaculate nails, bored expression. Her nameplate read "Brenda."
I handed her the forged badge. She squinted at it, then at me.
"Junior Compliance Liaison," she read aloud, unimpressed. "You poor bastard."
"Looking forward to bringing transparency to demon-led mergers."
She snorted. "Break room's on the fifth circle. Your cubicle's just past the blood wall. HR orientation is mandatory and deeply traumatizing. Welcome to HellCorp."
As I walked in, a minotaur in a tie nearly flattened me with his briefcase.
"MOVE, FLESHLING," he grunted.
Ah yes. Corporate culture.
9:15 AM – Floor 66, Compliance Department
My cubicle was small, damp, and slightly twitching. There was a living plant on the desk. It screamed when I tried to water it.
I tapped my earpiece. "Emily? You copy?"
Her voice crackled to life. "Loud and clear. You're in?"
"Yeah. The chairs here are made of bone. Very ergonomic."
"Stick to the plan. Make contact with our source in Accounts Receivable. Her name is Mina. She's half-banshee, half-bookkeeper."
"What's she look like?"
"Always wearing earplugs and muttering about spreadsheets. She's our way to the Nexus Room."
"What's the Nexus Room?"
"The place where reality gets its annual audit."
"Yikes."
"Good luck, Jax."
10:03 AM – Break Room (Fifth Circle)
It turns out that demon coffee is delicious. Probably because it's brewed from regret and blackmail.
I found Mina stirring something in the microwave that looked like soup but screamed every thirty seconds.
"You Mina?" I asked.
She gave me a side-eye sharp enough to slice paper. "Who wants to know?"
"Jax Carrion. Junior Liaison. Looking for some... clarity."
She dropped her spoon. "You're with Emily."
I nodded.
She jerked her head toward the hallway. "Follow me. But don't talk. My supervisor's a telepath."
We power-walked past lava-coolers, soul-scan checkpoints, and a mural of Lucifer holding a staff meeting. Mina stopped at a janitor's closet and slipped inside. I followed.
She locked the door.
"Listen," she said. "HellCorp's accelerating the ritual. They've outsourced part of the Nexus calculations to a firm in Romania. But the real problem is here."
She pulled out a file—thick, red, pulsing.
"New promotion," she said. "They're appointing a new Head of Dimensional Realignment. And guess who it is?"
I opened the file.
The name hit me like a shovel to the soul.
Emily Cross.
"What? That's not possible."
"She was nominated two days ago. Official vote's tomorrow."
"Emily's undercover. She wouldn't—she couldn't—"
Mina leaned in. "Unless someone's blowing her cover. Or playing both sides."
I backed up, breath stuck somewhere between panic and outrage. "No. There's a mistake."
She shrugged. "Tell her yourself. But fast. Once the promotion goes through, she's locked in for eternity."
Meanwhile – Abandoned Car Wash
Emily stared at the monitor. The screen flickered, then cleared: a livestream of HellCorp's inner sanctum.
Rafe leaned against the wall behind her. "He made it in. Looks alive."
"Barely," she muttered. Then her eyes froze.
There, on the screen, was a document she hadn't authorized. Her own name stamped on top of a promotion memo.
She stood up so fast her chair fell. "What the hell is this?"
Rafe's expression darkened. "That's not you?"
"Of course not. I never accepted—"
"Then someone's setting you up."
Emily's voice dropped. "Or someone's using my identity. HellCorp doesn't care about consent. If they've got a soul sample, they can do a lot."
"And you're sure it wasn't part of your deep cover?"
"I don't break cover by applying for upper management."
Rafe nodded once. "Then we've got a bigger problem."
Emily grabbed her coat. "I need to get to Jax. Now."
Back at HellCorp – 12:30 PM
I returned to my desk and found a sticky note on my monitor.
"COMPLIANCE MEETING – CONFERENCE ROOM B. BE PUNCTUAL OR FACE RETRAINING."
I walked in cautiously. The lights were low, the chairs formed in a circle, and a bored demon in wire-rims waved me toward a seat.
"Welcome to the HellCorp Values Workshop," he said. "Today's topic: Ethical Compromise and You."
"Oh no," I whispered. "It's a culty team-building exercise."
They made us chant. They made us act out skits about synergy. I had to share a "personal weakness" while being stared at by a lizard-man in a hoodie.
Two hours in, the lights flickered—and then the door burst open.
Emily strode in, gun holstered under her trench coat, eyes blazing.
"Carrion. With me. Now."
The demon facilitator frowned. "He's mid-session—"
Emily pulled out a badge that shimmered between worlds. "DIA. Division of Infernal Affairs."
Everyone gasped.
I stood. "Nice of you to drop in."
"Shut up and move."
1:10 PM – Supply Closet #12
We slammed the door behind us. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
Then Emily punched me in the shoulder. "You idiot!"
"OW! What did I do?"
"You're not supposed to be finding out about fake promotions!"
"Oh, so I'm just supposed to ignore the fact that someone made you queen of evil paperwork?!"
"It's a frame job!"
"No kidding!"
A pause.
"You okay?" I asked more gently.
Her anger faded. "Not really."
I stepped closer. "You're not alone in this."
"I know."
Another pause.
"I missed you, you know," she said quietly. "Even when I hated you."
I swallowed. "I never stopped wanting to be where you were. Even when it hurt."
We stood there, close enough to feel each other's heartbeat.
Then the lights flickered again.
Emily looked up. "We need to go. Now."
"Where?"
"To the server room. We're going to erase your presence—and mine—from the corporate database."
"And then?"
"We burn this place to the ground."
1:45 PM – HellCorp Sub-Basement
The server room was freezing. Arcane circuits glowed in blood-red light, and an eldritch humming filled the air.
Emily plugged in a device. "Cover me. This'll take a minute."
I turned toward the door—just as it flew open.
Rafe stepped in, sword drawn.
Behind him—security demons. Dozens.
"We've got company!" I yelled.
Emily didn't stop typing. "Hold them off!"
Rafe tossed me a stun grenade. "Make it flashy."
I pulled the pin and tossed it.
Flash. Boom. Screams.
Then chaos.
2:15 PM – Street Level
We burst out the front of HellCorp HQ, smoke trailing us. Alarms wailed. People screamed. The lobby fountain was now erupting sulfur.
Rafe hotwired a getaway hearse. "In!"
We peeled away, tires screeching, sirens blaring.
Emily looked back at the flaming building and whispered, "Stage one complete."
I turned to her. "Stage two?"
She smiled grimly. "We steal the promotion. We break the ritual. And then we crash their end-of-quarter massacre."
"And after that?"
She leaned her head against the seat. "Then maybe... tacos."
End of Chapter 3