Agent #2 nightmare part 1

from /hhg/ Helluva Hotel general #810, #812
-----------------------------------
Okay enough piracy. We PTSD now.

>It was crowded inside of her head, and that feeling soon extended to the rest of her
>It was like she wasn't properly inside her own body any more, like her physical form was just a suit of clothes
>And someone was tugging at the seems and openings, trying to force their way in and slither up to occupy it with her
>She tried to cry for help but she couldn't so much as open her mouth, it was like she had lockjaw
>She could hear a voice, but not in hear ear but inside her mind, though it had the same sort of horrible intimacy as feeling a stranger's breath on her as they whispered to her

>"Why don't you just let me take the wheel for a tick young lady?"
>"I have some business to attend to"
>"I'll just be a moment"

>She could smell and taste blood
>Someone forced her hand up to lift the glasses from her face
>Screams that were never given voice swirled inside her as she felt bones grinding in her neck and sinew being stretched further than should be physically possible
>She was forced to speak, both her own voice and someone else's spilling out in unison

>"All your training and research has been a waste"
>"We cannot be contained"
>"We cannot be stopped"

>She felt the sensation of feathery shadow forcing itself out of her mouth
>Like she was trying to vomit up dry sand
>It hurt, but her instinct to double over in pain went ignored
>Having manifested, the oily mass of seething shadows began tearing the facility apart, one piece at a time, leaving her for dead
---
>Agent #2 realized that she was developing a nervous tick, or perhaps several
>She had her hands on either side of her head when she awoke from her nightmare, desperately trying to hold her head in place and keep any paranormal force from forcibly twisting it around further than it was supposed to go again
>Releasing herself, slowly, not sure that her head wouldn't go whipping around and snap her neck like it was springloaded, she turned left, then right, twitching at the end of each gesture
>Head was still on correctly, no demons dwelling inside of it
>Sleep was hard to get lately, so she'd unplugged everything in the room that emitted even the barest bit of light, including the alarm clock, so she had to grope around in the pitch-black to find her phone and figure out what time it was
>2:00 AM
>Fuk

>She dragged herself out of her sweat-soaked sheets and found her way into the living room
>She put the TV up as loud as she dared to drown out the sounds of a silent home
>Every creak and bump that pierced the night air sounded like an intruder to her lately
>Two in the morning...
>She had to work tomorrow, and she was too wound up to get any more sleep
>It was going to be a long work day
>She sighed, the cat being the only one who heard her, and returned to her bedroom
>She crammed herself into a well worn set of sweats and her slippers, and trudged out the door
>She knew what was coming
>She'd be painfully awake all night, up until being finally ready to sleep like a brick no more than 30 minutes or so before she had to work
>Then she'd be dead on her feet and unproductive until at least lunch
>She was going to need caffeine to survive this, and lots of it
------
Okay since I'm out of ideas for Levianon and my birbposting took an uncomfortable turn I'm going back to Agent #2 having horrible PTSD from being possessed by Stolas and used as a gateway between Hell and the living world.
---
>The convenience store on the corner was empty save for the cashier and the moths beating their tiny heads against the lighting fixtures
>She said nothing to either of them on her stoop-shouldered walk toward the cold cases at the back of the shop
>She shoveled an assortment of chilled coffees and energy drinks flavored with vague notions like "sour unicorn rush" and "lemonade blade" into her arms
>Topped off with a pair of power bars to tuck into her coat pockets for later and one of those...crispy...things that they have in the roller grill that will probably make her sick later
>She caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the polished stainless steel of the countertop
>She looked like...Hell
>Hair mussed
>Eyes unfocused
>Greasy face shaded by the hood of her sweatshirt
>She looked like she ought to be standing on the street corner having an animated conversation with the voices in her head
>Good thing no one was here to see her
>Except the cashier of course, who regarded her with a look halfway in between disgust and fear as they rang up the heap of caffeinated chemical swill
>Whatever
>Screw them
>They'd look just as bad if not worse if they'd seen the kind of things she had
-
>Out the door
>Down the street
>Watch your step on that stretch of sidewalk where the tree's roots have fked up the pavement
>As she passes beneath the tree's canopy, a car alarm goes off
>A sudden flurry of activity ruffled the foliage
>Heavy wingbeats battered the foliage, sending dead leaves and seed pods and a torrent of tattered feathers raining down on her
>Angry squawks sounded out
>She screamed
>She was ready to face the threat this time
>She swung her plastic bags full of BPA-free cans at the avian threat above her head with all her might
>She didn't hit anything
>Except herself
>A delicate combination of gravity and momentum brought the cheap, black plastic stuffed with aluminum cylinders back around to whack her squarely in the chest
>The car alarm quieted a moment after
>She heard soft cooing and tittering from above her

>A tiny, harmless little sparrow, very upset at having its sleep interrupted, shot her an accusatory look through dewy eyes from its perch on a low-hanging branch
>Agent #2 groaned
>She was developing a phobia alongside her ticks

>"Sorry"

>She waved off the little bird and continued her walk home
---
Aw, poor #2
-
I'm trying for shmaltzy tragedy with this but she's kind of a lowkey badass if you look at things from a distance. If I remember correctly, the demons described in the Ars Goetia/Lesser Key of Solomon aren't garden variety demons, they're all the traitor angels who fell alongside Lucifer during the War In Heaven. So that makes Stolas a sort of Lucifer-lite. So Agent #2 straight up got possessed by a high-ranking banished angel and then proceeded to vomit him into existence on her plane of reality, and then upon him fking off to suck imp dck, just shrugged and said "aight we got this sht on camera bitches can't ignore us now". Holy sht that lady is fking ironclad.
-
god damn, I guess what is true what they said.

never judge a book by its cover, she a fking badass.
-
She was prob hopped up on adrenaline after all of that. It's unlikely to get mentally scarred only a few minutes after the event. Give it a day or two and she'll be screaming and crying all day.
-
>A typical day in Agent #2's life

>4:00 AM: Wake up. Shower using steel wool as a loofah for her gunpowder-scented bodywash.

>5:00 AM: Breakfast. Buttered sandpaper with grape jelly. Bowl of nails, no milk. Eaten with one hand over the kitchen sink while holding her phone up to watch videos of Mike Tyson prize fights with the other

>6:00 AM to 3:00 PM: bust up local gambling rings overseen by Asmodeus, shut down child prstittin organizations led by the Subway guy using a flamethrower and a killer attitude, call the new host of Prairie Home Companion and tell them they're not as good as the original guy

>4:00 PM: Find a homeless veteran and give them unlimited doshbux to buy groceries and grooming products for their upcoming job interview. Pet their dog gently and smoosh their squishy face and tell them what a good boi they are

>5:00 PM: savage, bed-destroying sx with someone who is left a quivering, babbling mess after getting done with the act

>6:30 PM: chocolate chip cookies and ice-cold milk while watching Aliens:Director's Cut

>10:00 PM: A good, solid night's sleep, during which time any sleep paralysis demon who dares encroach upon her territory will be suked into The Forbidden Zone and forced to do her laundry for the next thousand years

Agent #2 FKS.