Big Brothers is Back part 6

from /hhg/ Helluva Hotel general #669, #670, #674, #675, #683
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Well it ain't fully done yet, but I'm just going to start posting the next bit of Dictator Charlie and hope doing so provides me with the kick in the ass I need to finish the damn chapter so I can go finish the next goddamn chapter of Fallen Exterminator so I can put that sht down for a nap while I finish the next goddamn chapter of fcking Impish Roommates so that I can focus on finishing my damn CUDdle story so that I can finally get around to writing that damn Solagne fic and GOD DAMN IT WHY IS MY TO-DO LIST SO FCKING LONG?
-
>You exhale slowly and watch as your breath coalesces in front of you, curling this way and that in feathery whisps
>You're only at the very cusp of The Ninth Circle, but the all-consuming chill is already beginning to make itself known
>Charlie, Solagne, and Moxxie are likewise feeling the effects
>The first turns her collar up to shield her from the cold before closing up the clasps she'd left open during the trip. She rubs her hands together and then down over the rest of herself, tiny sparks of ethereal flame shedding off of her as she fights off the chill
>The second once again draws her wings in, this time protecting herself from a much more practical and present threat. Divine light began to swirl around her to keep her warm
>The third immediately reaches down to crank up the internal heater on his armor. Imps in particular don't do very well with cold.
>Delaying measures only, all of them. The cold of The Ninth Circle is beyond any force of nature; given enough time it could suck the life out of a star and render it dark and frigid
>Best not to tarry too long

>The path down toward the heart of the eternal cold is a long one
>Gently slopeing, straight as an arrow almost, only bending slightly here and there to bypass the largest of the great sheafs and daggers of ice that rise up from the chilly mist that enshrouds this corner of Hell
>In spite of the path's simplicity, you can't to the see the end of it, the combined veil of fog and claustrophobic darkness serving to obscure all but what is directly in front of you, in cruel defiance of the light the lanterns you carry with you shine out
>You'll just have to forge ahead and trust in your own knowledge of what awaits you
-
>Since no one else seems interested in taking the initiative, you wave a hand over your shoulder at your companions and begin your march downward
>The hoar of frost that endlessly accumulates on the ice proper crunches beneath your feet as you walk
>Charlie isn't in much of a hurry, strolling along in casual indifference
>Solagne waffles between lagging behind as she marvels at the bizarre crystalline formations that loom in from the edges of the darkness along your route, and hurrying ahead in quiet impatience before realizing she has no idea where she's going and then quickly falling back in line
>Moxxie pans his gaze back and forth over you and the others, then at the battery indicator telling him how many hours of artificial warmth he has left

>Time and distance become more difficult to track as you trudge along
>All you can say for sure is that every step you take forward makes you just a tiny bit colder
>But eventually, the gentle slope levels off
>The towering pillars of ice that offered a sort of shelter with the way that they clearly defined your surroundings disappear
>In their absence, all you have to look upon is a seemingly limitless ice cavern, the uniform darkness in the distance punctuated only occasionally by massive glacial pillars that stretch high above you, disappearing into the mist
>It requires little stretch of the imagination to believe that this place is as close as one could get to The Abyss without crossing over the line into nonexistence
-
>You hear a rattle and a stammered breath, and notice Moxxie shivering much harder than the others
>You draw his attention, the sudden intrusion of your voice into the silence seeming to startle all three of them
>You ask after his well-being
>Before he can feign being fine, you order him back to the vehicle to stand guard, shooting a pointed look at your sister as you do so, not giving her the opportunity to open her mouth
>The imp's tiny form recedes back into the darkness whence you came
>You turn and resume your march before his hoofbeats have finished softening from sharp clicks to dull, distant, thumps

>Charlie raises her arm, a single finger extended, without commentary or a single look back
>Her fingertip glows, and a vibrant bolt of flame goes rocketing up
>Then another
>And another, and another
>The bolts burst as they reach their apogee, scattering dozens of sparks through the air that begin to slowly drift back down, glowing like spotlights
>The scattering of fresh light sources allows you to see much further into the yawning cavern
>Not nearly enough to see to the edges of this frigid space you're in, but enough to see what you need to see
>The vast acres of ice in front of you
>The uncountable frozen bodies studding it, the numbers growing
>And lastly, the faintest edges of Uncle Satanel's towering form, half-embedded in the frozen lake, off in the far distance
-
>Not long after that, you come upon the first of the frozen sinners
>Distant, several feet below the ice, just a vague silhouette, cast down here long ago
>More recent arrivals are easier to discern the details of as you continue to travel
>Just a few inches from the surface of the vast, glassy pool
>Their expressions of fear or pain or grim resignation plain to see at close range
>The freshest-faced betrayers, cast down only a few dozen decades or so ago, still have limbs or large sections of their bodies protruding above the surface, or sometimes lie fully above it, appearing as icicle-encrusted statues trapped in whatever position they happened to be when the cold finally claimed them
>Their eyes, the only part of them the supernatural chill still allows them to move, follow you as pass
>Solagne gasps as she realizes she's being watched
>Then she shudders, and you can tell its not from the chill

>"Don't worry, they can't hurt you."

>Charlie reassures her counterpart, in strange defiance of the callousness with which she usually treats her
>Then she continues and her purpose becomes clear

>"They're conscious, but quite immobile, I promise."
>"Frozen and helpless for eternity."

>Charlie doesn't smile, but you can hear the satisfaction in your sister's voice as she reminds the exterminator of her mother's fate

>The first of the screams curtails any further taunting on her part

>You've finally come within earshot of Satan

>You look back up and search for the source of the agonized noise
>There
>Your uncle, warden of all "traitors, turncoats, and mutineers", is easy to discern at this distance, especially by the light of Charlie's flares
>You've come within hearing distance of him quicker than you'd realized
>The screaming grows louder as you continue your approach, and the motion of the massive demon's jaws becomes clearer
>You see him shift
>Now that you're suitably close, he's setting his eternal duties aside for a moment to accommodate you
-
>A wet, hacking, sound barks out, though it does not echo, instead being swallowed up by the stillness of the great cavern
>Then you can see a trio of mangled forms sailing through the air and landing somewhere in the shadows with a crunch
>Judas, Brutus, and...whatever that third one's name is all emit a soft sigh at their rare reprieve, followed by a sharp, creeping sound as they freeze up
>High above you, Uncle Satan places a hand on one chin at a time, working some tension out of his trio of overworked jaws, before leaning down out of the glare so that you can see his faces properly
>He touches all three foreheads to the frigid floor, before he rises back up and speaks

>"M̸y̴ ̶Que̴en"
>"C̵r̶ow̶n̴ ̵Pri̸nce̶"

>All three sets of eyes briefly focus on Solagne, three mouths twisting in confusion, concern, and disgust, respectively

>".̸..̵a̶n̶d̷ ̶yo̶ur ̶g̶u̶es̸t"

>"I̵ bi̸d̵ ̶y̷ou all ̸we̵l̸c̶om̶e̶"
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>Both yourself and Charlie salute in return
>Solagne stutters in awed horror for a moment, then bows at the waist, her hands clasped in front of her
>Charlie is speaking again before she's even straightened back up

>"Well met, Ninth Warden."

>She still remembers the formal greeting for this sort of occasion, in spite of the fact that you could probably count the times either of you actually had to do it through your entire lives on one hand
>Impressive

>"I apologize if I seem brusque, but I'm sure you realize that the conditions of this place are...less than favorable to those of us not as resilient as yourself"
>"If we may proceed directly to our business here?"

>Satan smiles knowingly at the carefully placed and precisely measured pauses, making it seem as though your sister is actually hesitating and putting genuine thought into phrasing things delicately, when in fact she's probably quite impatient to get the task at hand done and get the fuck out

>"̴B̷ut ̶o̸f̴ ̸cou̶r̷s̴e̶,̵ ̵Y̸our̵ ̴M̸aj̴e̴s̵t̴y̴."
>"I̶ ̴e̸x̴i̴st ̶t̷o̵ ̴s̸e̵r̶v̴e̵"
>"How m̶a̸y̵ I̵ ̶h̷el̷p̵?̸"

>With the the sheer booming volume of all three voices speaking together, its a bit difficult to tell how sincere Satan is in his declaration
>Charlie breezes past it

>"Our guest is here to see one of your prisoners"
>"Her mother"

>Satan's three sets of eyes narrow

>"̴Th̵e̶ ̴Ar̵ch̷ang̵e̷l"

>"Who else?"
-
>"̸I̴'m̷ ̵n̴o̶t̴ t̶e̴rri̶b̸l̵y̵ ̴f̴o̵n̴d ̶of̵ ̵t̴ha̷t̴ ̵o̴n̶e̴.̵"̴
>"̴Sh̷e ̶mad̶e qu̷i̴te ̵a r̵ac̴ket for q̷u̶i̶t̶e̸ ̵s̴o̴m̴e ̶t̴i̷m̴e̵ w̷he̶n s̵h̶e ̷ar̴r̸iv̶e̴d̸"̴
>"S̴e̴emed̷ ̶t̶o̵ ̶t̷a̶k̸e a̶n̵ age̶ ̶a̴n̶d̵ ̷a̵ ̷h̴a̴lf̴ b̸e̴fore̴ ̴s̶h̴e̴ fi̴n̵a̴l̵ly ̷r̶a̵n ̴o̴ut ̴o̶f̴ ̵s̶t̶e̴a̵m ̶a̵nd ̴fr̷o̵z̸e̴ ̴u̵p"
>"Y̵ă̶ppi̸n̶g ̶̈́͜ŏ̶n̵ ̵̚a̷̽n̵̾d o̶̭̎n̷͔͒ â̵̹b̵ou̷͕̓t t̴h̶e̸ ̴r̶i̶g̵hteous̵ne̵ss ̵o̴f he̸r ̶cau̵s̶e̷ ̶a̷nd th̴͜͝e̴̻͝ inju̸st̶ic̸e̴ ̷̻̆of̵͊ her fate..."
>"I̶f̵ y̶ou ̵m̶u̴s̶t t̵h̷aw̷ ̴h̴er̵,̴ do ̵tr̴y̴ to̶ ̶k̶e̶e̵p̵ ̴h̵e̷r̵ ̴q̴u̵i̶e̴t,̶ ̷wi̶ll y̵o̵u̶?̵"

>Charlie smirks at that, while Solagne's expression shifts from terror to a sequence beginning with shock and ending with resignation, with a brief stop for offense in the middle

>"You have my word as queen, she won't be allowed to disturb you"

>Satanel closes his eyes and furrows his brows for a moment, searching his realm for the object of your visit
>Then he opens them
>He twists in place, the ice around him cracking and crunching in protest of the movement, before freezing back up almost instantaneously, trapping him once again
>A hand big enough to swat you like an insect points off into the darkness

>"T̴ha̶t w̴aỳ̴̢̖̫"
>"T̵͝hree̵̢̓ hund̵r̶ed̴ p̶a̷ces̴ "

>The Ninth Warden shifts his attention to Solagne

>"E̵n̷j̸o̶y̴ your̶̞͠ vȋ̴̎͝sit, Lit̵t̴l̶e̵ O̷n̶e"
----------------------------------
>You count your steps under your breath, quietly wondering if and how Satan could truly measure the distance you have to walk so accurately
>But as you hit step number two hundred ninety nine, you see her silhouette
>You have no firsthand knowledge of what Adina, or archangels in general, look like
>But the ice-encrusted figure, hunched over in their curiously empty and isolated patch of the cavern, is unmistakably a heavenly being
>She has a halo, though it more closely resembles a set of wind chimes with all of the long, spindly shards of ice hanging from it
>Her robe would be flowing were it not frozen so stiffly it could snap

>Solagne offers no response to the sight beyond a sad, shaky sigh
>She's had ample time to prepare herself for what she was going to see
>The warrior angel spends a long while contemplating the archangel trapped in the ice before her
>Shockingly, Charlie says nothing to antagonize her, staring at her from behind as she in turn stares at her mother

>After what feels like ages, especially with the chill still pressing upon you, Solagne steps forward and takes a knee in front of her mother
>She cups the archangel's face with both hands, and they begin to surge with holy light
>For a moment it seems to be ineffective, the frozen statue showing little reaction
>Then you hear a gasp, followed by a crunch as still half-frozen muscles begin to work
>Adina flexes her massive wings and draws hers arms close for warmth
>Free again, if only for the moment
-
>You're not sure what you were expecting
>Maybe a cry of anguish, maybe for her to pick right up in the rantings and ramblings Satan had complained of as if you'd hit play on a paused recording
>But Adina makes very little sound for a moment, and moves little beyond her initial flexing
>She's startlingly placid given the graveness of the situation
>Hardly any expression on her face as her eyes focus on her daughter, who regards her with a sort of restrained-yet-frantic worry

>"Sternguard 108-54"
>"Status report"

>Not your first choice of words to greet your child with
>Solagne doesn't seem particularly surprised

>"Mother?"
>"Mother, it's me."

>Adina tilts her head, her expression unchanging

>"Status report"
-
>Solagne bites her lip, looking both disappointed and resigned

>"Dress uniform."
>"Unarmed."
>"Acting alone."
>"I am here with the special permission and under the escort of Hell's reigning monarch and crown prince."

>Adina hmmms

>"That would explain why it reeks so badly of sin here."

>Charlie scoffs and draws closer, beginning to walk a slow measured circle around the archangel
>She scrutinizes her through a hateful glare

>"So, you're the one we have to thank for all those years of rampant slaughter."
>"I'm not sure what I expected."
>"More, maybe."
>"An honor to meet you all the same"
>"I hope your accommodations are to your liking."

>"Were you not already aware of my presence, Your Royal Highness?"

>Even through the stuttering chill infecting her speech, its not hard to pick up on the sarcasm in her reverent address of your sister

>Your sister frowns as she continues to walk slow, deliberate circles around the half-frozen archangel
>Sharp back-to-back clicks of jackbooted heel and toe
>Arms folded tightly below her chest

>"The Ninth Circle receives little scrutiny"
>"There is precious little activity down here, no matter how mighty the souls who fill it might ONCE have been"
>"Rendered immobile by the frost, and under the watchful eye of Satan, no one who is DAMNED to this ring of Hell presents much of a threat"
>"And if they ever do, I'm sure that any one of The Arch-Traitors would be more than happy to trade their endless torture in The Frigid Maw for the relative peace of being an ice sculpture for a few centuries"

>Adina shrinks back at the threat
>She shrinks in body, but her face remains defiant
>Or perhaps not
>That smug smile of self-assured superiority trembles the same as the rest of her
-
>Solagne turns to face her counterpart, eyes wide with fear

>"Please"
>"Don't hurt her"
>"She's-"

>"She wouldn't dare."

>Adina quickly goes back on the offensive, in spite of being utterly helpless and still waist-deep in ice, to her daughter's horror

>"Mother, please-"

>"Oh, I assure you, I would"

>Queen Charlotte raises a hand and points a finger
>Hellfire begins to glow about its tip, painfully hot, even at a distance and in spite of the supernatural chill enveloping you
>A frothing mixture of fear, panic, despair, revulsion, and more leaps up from the pit of your stomach and coils itself around your heart
>She's not going to do what you think she's going to do
>Is she?
-
>The bolt of hellfire bursts forth, ready to incinerate a soul, to wrench it from Creation and drop it down into The Abyss
>But instead it fizzles against the thick sheaf of ice that envelopes the banished archangel
>A broken ring of flames almost encircles her in a glowing horseshoe, steam hissing furiously as they flash melt and then boil the ice away in a thick cloud
>The heat quickly fades from searing to a comforting warmth
>Your sister lowers the hand she fired the bolt with as the other retrieves her pocket watch
>She pops it open, glances at its face, then turns her attention to Solagne

>"That should keep the frost off for about half an hour, without you having to constantly fight it"
>"Spend it well"
>"And take care with the hellfire, wouldn't want you to scorch yourself"
>"Come along Anon"

>With that, Charlie pivots on her heel and takes a dozen or so steps away
>You can't help but gawk at her as she gives Heaven's ambassador some privacy
>That was...strangely generous for the kind of demon she's become
>Solagne seems to share your surprise and then some, so much so that she can't even muster a response
>She begins to speak, but you force yourself not to eavesdrop and instead focus on the continued crackle and hiss of the flame-kissed ice until you've retreated to the same distance as Charlie
>You regard your sister as she watches her black-and-blue twin gesticulate at the half-frozen archangel
----------------------
>She looks different than she had at the negotiating table
>Still grim, still simmering with an undercurrent of consistent anger, but she presently lacks the bitterness and vitriol she seems to keep ready and waiting for Solagne
>She almost seems empty, as if all her fire and fury were just a mask with nothing underneath it
>Drained
>She looks drained

>You open your mouth to try to draw her attention, but you're cut off as Solagne suddenly cries out so loudly that you can hear her clearly even at this distance

>"That's not my name!"
>"That's my rank and number!"
>"That WAS my rank and number!"
>"I don't need them anymore!"
>"We don't cleanse anymore! They're useless!"
>"I HAVE A NAME, MOTHER!"

>"I"
>"HAVE"
>"A"
>"NAME"

>"YOU GAVE IT TO ME!"
>"DON'T YOU REMEMBER?!"

>An anguished gasp interrupts the angel's rant, and she drops to her knees as her voice drops back to a level only she and her mother can hear
>Solagne speaks at length, she motions with increasing franticness, she reaches out to the archangel before her, face twisting with desperation and despair
>Adina's responses seem to be unsatisfactory, as her daughter gradually grows less and less animated and ever more silent
>Eventually she whispers something, lips barely moving, eyes staring straight through Adina
>She leans forward and envelops her mother in a lingering hug
>Adina does not return it
>She shows no reaction of any sort
>Eventually Solagne tires and releases her
>She steps carefully over the withering curtain of flames
>She doesn't look back as the last of the hellfire fades away, allowing freezing shadow to once again envelop the indifferent archangel who created her
>There is a faint slinking, crunching sound somewhere in the darkness as Adina returns to her icy slumber
-
>Solagne walks as if in a trance as she rejoins you
>Once she's within arms reach once again, you can see tears glistening on her pale cheeks
>Charlie reaches into her coat pocket and produces a handkerchief
>An old one, pearly-white and embroidered with your family's traditional crest rather than her regime's insignia
>She holds it out to the silently weeping angel

>"Dry those before they freeze"
>"We can't have you returning to Heaven with frostbite scars all over your face"
>"It would make us look bad"
-
>Solagne stands there numbly for a brief moment before accepting the scrap of cloth
>She begins to blot the tears from her cheeks
>When she's finished, she hold the cloth back out to Charlie
>Charlie shakes her head

>"Keep it."

>Solagne starts in shock as Charlie suddenly reaches up and rests a gloved hand on her shoulder
>Your sister stares at the angel in silence, eyes boring into hers
>You're not sure for how long, but it feels like an eternity
>Then, she releases her, pivots on her heel, and walks off back whence you came

>"We're done here."
>"Lets get moving before we all start growing icicles."