Achieving Heaven Through Hell Part 1: A Peaceful Afterlife

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Ongoing Recovery

Charlie rolled around the janitor cart, looking for messes; one of the nice things about only having two customers was the easy clean-up. She turned the corner into the second story rec-room and saw Angel lounging on the couch in front of wide-screen TV, eating a bowl of cereal. Charlie wiped off the counter and emptied the garbage can, eying the full set of billiard balls that had mysteriously reappeared on the pool table. 'I should probably boil those...in bleach.'

"Hey, Angel!" She said, leaning over the couch. "How are you doing this morning?"

He looked up at her, spoon in his mouth. "Alright enough. Been sleepin' better."

His voice sounded a little rough and croaky, Charlie reached out and felt his forehead. "You okay? You sound a little froggy."

Angel waved her off, shaking his head. "Yeah, no. I think I'm shakin' somethin' off. I think Kira might be a little under the weather, though. Didn't even answer when I knocked this mornin'. I was pretty choked up."

Angel snickered and rubbed his throat, hand slipping under the skull-and-diamond patterned tie around his neck.

"Oooh..." said Charlie, admiringly, rubbing the tie between her fingers; silk, very nice. "This is new! Since when do you wear ties?"

Angel smirked mischievously. "Figured I'd try the look. I really like how it feels on my neck. Besides, I think it brings out my tits." He reached up and adjusted his chest fluff, winking.

Charlie rolled her eyes before looking up and pointing at the TV. "Angel, look! Isn't that your gangster friend?"

Angel looked up at the screen, backdropping Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench was a splash page of his gal-pal, Cherri Bomb. "Eyyy! Cherri!"

He grabbed the remote and boosted the volume. "...Just goes to show, ladies and gentlemen, mimes can't say no, so you can do whatever you want to them."

"The only way you can get laid, eh Tom? Ah ha ha ha, I'm joking, I'm joking; we all know you can't get it up unless clowns are involved."

"You said wouldn't tell!–I mean–ha ha haaa... This just in, the on-going turf war between Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb has reached a fever-pitch! The terrible two are tearing up town in a towering torrent of torment! But we here at Channel 666 have people on the ground, ready and willing to risk life and limb to bring you live footage to satisfy your morbid curiosity!"

"Hahaha! Tom, you are a card! Interns aren't people."

"And they certainly aren't willing, either! If they refuse, they're reassigned to Katie's dressing room."

"Truly, a fate worse than second death. Let's cut to the live feed!"

The feed switched to to the shaky footage of a terrified hawk-demon ducked behind the remains of a brick wall, explosions and huge stomping footsteps roared in the background, her eyes huge and harrowed with fear. "T-this is Buteo Jaimie of channel 666, reporting to you live from ground-zero of the most recent outbreak of violence in this ongoing war zone! As you can see, just beyond this wall the two factions are waging a campaign of utter genocide against one another, with death rays and bombs and robots and eggs wreaking untold devastation on the surrounding area!" The camera peered over the wall to show Cherri Bomb straddling a kill-bot, its death rays shrieking as it tried futility to get her off.

"My girl!" Angel cheered.

"The fighting appears to have reached a stalemate, with neither side gaining any ground, merely content to destroy as much of the surrounding area and population as possible! They appear to be trying to maximize collateral damage for seemingly no reason beyond some sort of publicity stunt to attract advertisers!" Buteo Jaimie looked up and over the camera-man's shoulder, expression confused. "E-excuse me, sir? Sir, this is a Channel 666 exclusive! I'm going to have to ask you to–" an encroaching, deep-toned buzzing blared over the speaker followed by the sharp wet sound of cleaved meat and the low heavy crunch of bone. A spurt of blood splattered on Buteo's face and the camera dropped to the ground. Buteo began to scream as a pair of finned, scaly legs strolled by the lens, which quickly became encrusted with...something. Just before the image was totally covered, the figure advanced on Buteo with a glimmering ornately designed single-flued harpoon. The image blacked out and Buteo's pleads and screams filled the air before being abruptly cut off by a low, meaty 'thwack'. The feed cut back to a nonplussed Katie and Tom.