“Do you remember what I said would happen as the result of your failure, Lucifer,” A voice growls. Once again, I’m dreaming up some convoluted scene of what is happening, or what might be happening. Something that seems to show me enough but hides a lot more. My Father is talking to Lucifer and I imagine, just like he suggested prior to the attack, he’s about to punish my brother. “Though, I still would like to hear your excuses.”

My Father seems to have had time to calm himself, it seems unlikely that he would take the time to listen. I have a feeling one of my brothers might have been involved in this. Perhaps Sathanus, seeing someone who’s angry for the sake of being angry does give you a new perspective on your rage. “Interesting. Typically you don’t listen to a damn thing I say,” Lucifer says, approaching. “I did come here immediately after returning, so I have no plans to lie.”

“‘Cept there’s a damn good reason why you’d lie,” Sathanus says. I look at where the voice came from, just beside the shadowed throne. A large man with huge, rippling muscles, only partially obscured by a leather tunic. He has large horns that sweep back just over his ears, seemingly traveling with his black hair which settles on his broad shoulders. Unlike his brother, he doesn’t have wings, but instead he has a large, lizard-like tail, that sweeps across the floor the more annoyed he gets. It does explain why it’s always moving.

“You’re right. I would lie for Elmira’s sake, but in this case, I don’t really need to lie. The Humans are protecting her,” Lucifer responds. “You don’t need me to hear that. I’m sure you could have figured that out by yourself.”

“Mm,” My father grumbles. “That much is clear, but I’m still curious why you didn’t fight against the Humans. They’re nothing more than pathetic pests. The only reason why they’re still alive is because we need them. I find it difficult to accept that they beat you back.”

“They didn’t beat me.”

“Then where’s Elmira?” Sathanus yells.

“Sathanus,” My Father hisses. “I’m talking. If that’s the case, why didn’t you return with Elmira?”

“Because I was going to end up fighting to a stalemate. Humans aren’t the same as they were one thousand years ago, Father. They have powers now, they can fight back against us. One of which I fought against was a man in steel armor and he could take the power I attacked him with and return it back to me at a greater strength. I couldn’t ignore him, nor could I win against him. Plus I am limited on the time I can remain in the Mortal plane. I chose to return before wasting time and ending up in a position where a stalemate can turn into a loss.”

There’s a loud thud. The sound of my Father leaning heavily on the throne’s armrests. “You can’t seriously be thinking about believing his lies?” Sathanus yells. “He’s a liar, he’ll do anything to preserve his reputation! Besides, there is no Human capable of challenging .”

“I preserve my reputation, but note that I’m harming it right now, brother,” Lucifer points out.

“I’m inclined to agree with Lucifer here,” my Father mutters. “Even though he’s a fool for removing Elmira from our care, I’m inclined to agree with him. However, Sathanus, if you wish to prove him wrong, you have the opportunity to do so.”

“Fine. I will, however, I do have my own desires that I want to be fulfilled should I succeed in acquiring Elmira,” Sathanus says.

“Father-” Lucifer takes on a warning tone.

“Silence, Lucifer. Continue, Sathanus.”

Sathanus grins, his razor sharp teeth glinting in what little light there is. “First, success means I get to torture Lucifer and if I get Elmira, once she undergoes metamorphosis, she’s mine.”

“You can torture Lucifer, but Elmira is mine. I make her choices for her.”

“Which is why I’m asking you.”

There’s a long pause, my Father is thinking. Lucifer looks incredibly serious and he’s started pacing the width of the room, his spear tapping against the ground as he walks. “Fine-,” My Father says finally. “However, you have one opportunity and her first child will not be yours. I feel this is a fair compromise.”

“Of course, then I will send out scouts immediately. Thank you very much, Father.” Sathanus bows deeply then strides out of the building. Lucifer is left alone with my father and he grimaces at the decision. He starts walking out, leaving the room empty. Empty except for my Father. The flames that hang from the side of the pillars flicker out leaving the room pitch black.

My dreams seem so real, and they likely are, but it seems that I only dream of the Demon Plane when I use warlock magic, and even if I do, it seems it’s all controlled by my Father. In the end, when I wake up, there’s one thing that remains the same, that is the pain in my back and the changes in my body, this time, it’s agony, a different kind of pain.

It’s as if my back is on fire, like I’m sweating profusely from my neck and my muscles are melting beneath my flesh. I feel weak, feverish and I can’t raise my head from the bed, I can’t even talk, I can’t groan in pain, nor can I reach my hands behind my back. It feels like I’ve been freshly flogged from behind like my Father has poured molten lead into the fresh cuts before slowly threading the venom of a snake into any area that’s been left unharmed. It reminds me of the torture I’ve had to endure in the past, but worse. It reminds me when Lucifer finally sewed his power into my septagram.

Maybe it’s connected to that, maybe it’s not, but it’s hard to even come up with some sort of conclusion when I’m in this much pain. I try to move, try to let out a noise, but it feels like someone is pressing down on my shoulders, holding me down to force me to endure the pain.

In time, the pain slowly decreases to a dull throb and I manage to get my voice back, panting loudly, as if I’ve been screaming myself hoarse for the last few minutes of pain. Perhaps I have, just not managing to do more than utter a wordless scream. I pull my covers off then fall out of my bed, dropping to the ground with a loud clang, the cold metal floor meets my hot hands. The lights come on, bathing me with white light, yet still, I lie motionless there for a few moments, or at least long enough for it to be worrying.

There’s a crackling noise at the edge along the edges of the cell, where the circular walls meet the ceiling. A voice comes through as if there’s someone living in the walls. “If you don’t respond, we will send in a medical team. Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” I croak. “I- I’ll manage on my own.”

“Say something if you need medical attention,” the voice responds, then there’s another crackling noise and it goes silent once again. I slowly push myself up, my arms feel like they’re made of gelatin, but I get up and lean against the wall.

I place my head in my hands, groaning and then sliding down the wall to the ground once again. I can’t work up the strength to move once more. The cold steel of the wall seems to help, the feeling of it against my back seems to lessen the heat, to drive away the remainder of the pain. I lift myself away from the wall, then pitch forward before righting myself. Maybe I should expect something like this after a lot of combat, maybe it would help if I could talk to Diane could help me, but there’s no asking her now.

I walk over to the locker and pull it open. The inside of the door has a large mirror and there are some clothes, neatly folded within. They’re all gray, loose-fitting clothes, with the emblem of the VCF sewn into the left breast. I push the door open wider and look deep into the mirror. My hair is soaked, along with my clothes, sticking to my skin, but that’s not all, once again, I’ve undergone some developments, some of which are absolutely astounding. My skin has a slight discoloration, instead of porcelain white, it’s gone a little darker, a light tan, some Humans might think. My tail has completed its growth, two prongs starting at the midpoint, ending in a red point that seems like it’s been soaked in blood. The effect is repeated on my horns, which have clearly sprouted just past my head, ending with red tips.

I tilt my left hand to the side, channeling the power of the septagram, much like what I might do with Lucifer’s power, but instead of light forming on the edge of my transformed, claw-like hand, flames flicker across my claws. I exhale and the flames extinguish, one of the points of my septagram got completed. I can use Sathanus’ power as easily as I can Lucifer’s. If it’s this simple to complete a point here, then how long would it take to complete my remaining points? I imagine, the magic I use is much like Gates explained it. However, instead of the power dripping through gaps, I retain it in my septagram, inevitably the rate it will absorb at is far faster because it’s direct absorption and there is no pain of it being forced into my back. At least, that is until the night, but I’d rather deal with nightmares and the pain while I’m asleep than the pain while I’m awake.

I remove some of the clothes and a towel from the locker and approach the shower, shedding my own clothes as I walk. They’re torn from the battle and smell heavily of sweat. I know there are people watching, but at the same time, I know that there won’t be a point where they aren’t watching. In a place like this, privacy is something I can’t rely on. I stop at the shower and turn on the stream of water. Cold water falls over my body and I lower my head, letting it fall mostly down my shoulders. It feels like electricity is darting down my back for a second, a surprisingly good feeling. The water warms and I straighten up, wrapping my hand around a bar of soap, placed upon a dish, connected to the wall.

I clean up hastily, expecting something to happen in the next few minutes. However unlikely that might be. I turn off the water and take up the towel, holding it to my face and slowly drying myself off. Suddenly, there’s a loud ringing noise and I look around. It sounds like a cellphone, but there’s not meant to be one in my cell. It’s coming from the door. I slowly approach the door and as I draw closer, the sound grows louder.

I stop at the door, there’s a tray with food on it. Milk in a jug alongside a bowl filled with dry cereal. There’s a plate with two slices of brown bread with two tubs of both jelly, as I’ve been told the red stuff is, butter, with a knife to spread the butter and jelly. To drink there’s a cup of orange juice, seemingly freshly squeezed. In the direct center of the tray is a cell phone. I lift the cell phone from the tray and I’m presented with two options. One green, and one red. The green option tends to always be the yes option, so I press it and raise the phone to my ear like I’ve seen many others do.

“Hello, Lord Elmira. Or would you prefer Lady?” Comes a woman’s voice. “You don’t need to answer, I’m staring at your cell right now and I know you’re on the cell phone. I’m also talking to you so I can help you.”

“Who are you?” I ask, suspicion clouding my voice. There aren’t very many people in this world that seem to help me because they like me. Many of them want to use me, or they just hate me for what I look like. I’d give her about 50% chance to be lying to me.

“You’re suspicious. It’s good to be suspicious. Your experiences have clouded your ability to believe in people. When it comes to Humans, that’s a good thing, but at least act naive. It could make you far less responsible for the attacks.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“In due time, my suspicious friend. My name is Oracle. Tagert spoke briefly about me. I’m also going to be presiding over your decision. Or be one of those who chooses what will happen to you.”

“And you’re trying to help me?”

“That’s a lot of questions from someone who woke up from a nightmare and found fire dancing at her fingertips. I figured you’d question your developments more than you’d question my involvement.”

I’m unsure whether she’s doing this for her amusement or whether she’s just curious. “I know about the changes. I don’t know about you.”

“Of course, you do. Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. I’ll help you, and in return, you’ll help me.”

“Isn’t it by your hand that I’m in this mess in the first place.”

She makes a sound as if wondering about the legitimacy of my statement. “Kinda, it was going to happen anyway, but my intervention is very important for the whole development. See you’re walking a thin line. The kind of line where I don’t know what happens as a result.”

“What does that mean?”

“Divergent future. A future where two or more outcomes are similarly likely which results in skewed versions of the future. For example, the first outcome is immediate near apocalypse-”

“I’m sorry?” I interject.

She clears her throat. “Well, the first option is that we choose to kill you and your death results in Satan using his thousand year trip to tear the world asunder and leave only a few million Humans left.”

“That can’t be good.”

“What gave you that idea, Sherlock?”

“Sherlock? I mean, I feel like that would be the natural reaction when told about the apocalypse.”

“God damn. I’m sending Arthur Conan Doyle novels to your cell and you’re going to read them. It’s a figure of speech. Anyway, you’re right, I’m talking to you to save our own hides, or more precisely to stop the idiots in the other CPO buildings from making a mistake they will regret.”

“Alright, I believe you. At least I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Good, because sending you back to the Demon Plane is merely delaying the inevitable and so is keeping you in that cell. So our only option is getting you to help us, and even if you do, there’s no guarantee things will work out. Just that there’s a higher chance that things will work out- at least with the right type of help.”

“So- you’re a clairvoyant?”

“Oh, I’m far more than that, but that’s irrelevant. I’m sure we’ll talk about it in the future as we get to know each other better.”

“Fine, I’m listening. What do you want me to do?”

“Good. Seems Tagert was wrong about you in a few areas. That’s fine, I didn’t expect his files to be anywhere near perfect. I’m going to be brief because I don’t think overcomplicating anything will help you. I’ll sum it up with two words. Act Human.”

“And how does one do that? I’m not Human, remember.”

“Oh, I remember, and you’re asking a terrible person that question, but I can help. You’re scared, you’re nervous and you want to protect yourself and the ones who hold close to you. Be particular with you wording, all of these guys are obsessed heroes, they’d go through all the efforts to save a young girl from torture and rape, be extravagant and talk about what they would do to you should you return.”

My eyebrows crease in annoyance. “Seriously?”

“Is that hard?”

“That’s exactly the position I’m in. I’m scared, I’m worried, I don’t want to go back to my family. They’ll beat me black, blue and purple, they’ll break my bones and tear my muscles and once that’s all done, then they’ll subject me to repeated acts of rape so I can bear countless hordes of demons. Do you think I want that? Do you think I want that willingly? Do you think that I need to Act Human, when acting as I usually do is exactly the same.” My voice is growing loud and I can feel anger seeping into my voice. It’s mostly because I’m offended. Offended that she’d think that I would actually relish the idea of returning home. “I’m fucking terrified, but I also know that my position here is a threat to others as well.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t terrified.”

“But you implied it.”

“I implied nothing of the sort. I just said what Humans would do. I lack any knowledge about how you actually feel. My power gleams facts, not emotions. I’m sorry about the offense I may have caused, but honestly, I don’t think it matters.”

“It really does matter,” I say in a low voice.

“Fine. Then sorry. Just act like you usually would then. But make it the big subject. A lot of them will try to make you out to be the bad guy, ask tactful questions. They’ll talk about how you appeared in front of civilians and then fled the scene. You must premise these questions with an excuse, an excuse that would elicit some emotional reaction. The golden word here is but. Remember that.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, should this all work out, you’ll be forced to wear an ankle bracelet and you’ll be treated as- for lack of a better word- someone special. You’ll join a team and from there you will undertake missions like many other teams might.”

“Someone special?”

“I can’t explain it. They’ll have eyes on you. They’ll want to see you providing for them as much as they are providing for you.”

“Right…” I mumble. “And exactly what am I to do?”

“Well, like normal teams, you will do missions. And you’ll find that at this point, Humans have a major capacity for evil and some of them are quite strong. You will deal with some of them, be it magic users or vigors.”

“I have already seen some horrible Humans.”

“Then I don’t need to explain anything more. This is about as much as I can say. I don’t really know if I can prepare you better. Let’s just hope that those idiots do still have that tight-wearing superhero hidden inside their hearts, ‘cause if they don’t they’ve doomed us.”

“They won’t listen to you?”

I swear I hear her laugh. “You’ve met Tagert. The rest of them are as stubborn as he is. They should listen to someone like me, but they don’t. So instead, you have to make them feel pity. Good fucking luck.”

“You make this sound like some impossible task.”

“Oh, don’t be mistaken, it isn’t. I’m just incredibly anxious.”

“Oh,” I murmur.

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m ending the call now. You’ll be getting those books with lunch. In the meantime- don’t set the room on fire… No matter how impossible that may seem- Also- get dressed.”

The phone goes quiet in my hand without me being able to say goodbye to Oracle. I’m stunned, I’m not sure what more by. The sudden call or how tense it all seemed. Well, it was tense for me, for Oracle, it seemed like nothing more than another day’s work. I lift the tray up and place the phone where the tray was sat, on a small lip across the door. I carry the tray over to my bed, laying it on the top, then I grab the clothes I took from the locker and start pulling them on with exaggerated care. Feels like something else will happen in moments if I take one wrong step and considering where I am, that could indeed be the case.

Once dressed I sit down and pull the tray onto my lap. I’m quite hungry and the idea of actually eating, no matter whether it tastes like dirt or not is far too enticing. I pour the milk into the bowl and mix the cereal in with a spoon, before bringing it to my mouth. This is the first time I’m going to eat cereal, I’ve seen the others eat it, and it’s simple enough to mimic, but I always just stick to stuff I’m more comfortable with. I bite into the cereal which crunches loudly in my mouth.

It tastes- well, I wouldn’t say there’s anything amazing about it. It’s not horrible, nor is it some amazing invention. All it has going for it is convenience. Just add milk and you’re done. It tastes like toasted grains, sweeter than toast, yet not as sweet as many other things Humans seem to eat. It seems that they put sugar in everything. Some things more than others.

I find it an acceptable meal, dull, yet filling. I don’t quite finish it, instead choosing to eat the bread coated liberally in butter and jelly. One such thing that seems to be heavily flavored with sugar. I chew on the edge of my bread. I switch from bread to orange juice every few moments, only eating so slowly because there’s not much more to do.

I finish my food and return the tray to where I took it from then return to my bed and collapse into it, placing my hands behind my head and shutting my eyes to pass the time. It seems like a lot of my time will be spent sleeping and not much else until I get those books. Then I should be able to waste a lot of time. I’ve never been much of a reader, so it will take me a while to leaf through them, dependent on how long they are.

My rest is interrupted by a low beep. It wouldn’t be quite enough to wake me up if I were sleeping, but I’m only lying here, listening to the chimes. There’s a clatter by the door and I stand up and approach the door. “Stay back,” a voice hisses. I stop and a tray is pushed out to replace the other tray. It’s joined by a few books. About eight of them, a few of them are large others are small. “Hot lunch. Spaghetti Bolognese and some leafy greens.” There’s a loud clang and the beep stops.

I finally approach the door. Once again, there’s a tray there, replacing the other tray with a plate filled with some strange red strands and meat soaked in tomatoes. Next to it, in its own bowl are some vegetables, drizzled with a brown liquid. There’s also a cup of an amber liquid with an empty steel cup by its side. Books are stacked next to it, there are those ‘Arthur Conan Doyle’ books that Oracle mentioned, but there’s more. ‘Modern History and the Development of Vigors in War and Daily Life’ for example. Those are the thickest books, the history books and what seem to be books on the makeup of Humans. It seems like an odd set of books, but I’m interested in educating myself when I have nothing better to do.

I carry them all over to my bed, then place the tray on my lap. Much like the cereal, I’m interested in giving this food a try, however, I hope it tastes better than the cereal which seemed somewhat bland. This food is better, there’s mince, which I have eaten before, something that is common in burgers, with a mix of tomatoes and other vegetables to bring it together. The white strands seem to make the food go further or to bring the two different elements together. It’s definitely something I can barely taste amongst the other ingredients, but it’s there, offering no resistance against my sharp teeth.

It seems all too soon between meals, but I was asleep during breakfast, so I’d expect that to be the case. I place it on the ground when I’ve finished the hot food to save the rest for later if I decide to eat it. I clean my hands off and then move onto the books, sorting through them. Amongst the books there’s a neatly written note. I raise it up and it’s got a few titles, an order. A Study in Scarlet>The Sign of the Four>The Hound of the Baskervilles>The Valley of Fear.

I crack the first book open, scanning over a few lines to find that it’s a seemingly formal and antiquated version of English. It’s not all too different from English, not like latin that was formed by the Romans, but it’s still quite complex and as a result might take me far longer to read. It may also be strenuous to keep track of all that is happening. I will try, but I’m unsure whether I’ll be able to soldier through to the end. There is one clear thing, something that Oracle had said, amongst the words, is the name, Sherlock. Now, to see whether he is a fool or whether Oracle was being sarcastic by calling me that name.