TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[penancemods]

ARRIVAL

You remember a dream.

Or maybe nightmare is more accurate.

It was full of hellfire nipping at your skin and a sensation of being pulled down no matter how much you struggle or cry for help. There's a voice that feels like it's coming from all around you at once. Contrasting with the nightmare unfolding around you, it's smooth as silk. It makes you want to listen with every bit of attention you can muster in the moment.

"Judgement has come upon you, but not to worry. It can still be undone."

The voice promises you redemption for your sins. It promises you a better life and everything you could ever want, if only you just stop struggling so much.

And so you do.


Everyone wakes up in the same room initially. The room is done up in red with a cushy bed, a window, an old TV in the corner on a desk, and a few Hieronymus Bosch paintings lining the wall. There's a bathroom to clean up in and any belongings will be sat around the room to be gathered later. There's a duffel bag provided for your convenience.

After feeling a sensation of falling or dropping onto the bed, characters wake up feeling like they've just slept for a week. Their body will feel heavy and stiff, they'll have a massive headache at first.

They'll quickly notice the list of their sins written with their blood on a bedside table on an old piece of parchment. This will mean the list is tied to them and can't be changed or tampered with. They'll also receive their device to connect with others and the network. It won't be anything terribly fancy. As a matter of fact, it looks like a very old Blackberry type phone.

Once characters are ready to leave the room, they'll head down long, winding halls. They're dimly lit and ominous feeling. They may encounter fellow sinners or demonic staff that will direct the newcomer down to the lobby to get their actual room key to settle in. They may be pushy, they may border on courteous. It really just depends on the mood of the staff at the time and how they're treated in return. Eventually, everyone comes to stairs that lead downward.



Once down to the lobby, you'll notice the front desk manned by a demon who looks bored out of its mind. To the side of him is the door to the kitchen where guests may help themselves. To the right is a small duty free shop that seems to have a surprisingly normal, expected stock of items. Look around a bit further, there will be a tiny bar tucked in through a corner door. It seems pretty well-stocked and best of all, self-serve if you want to get away from your demonic hosts for a bit. Of course there's some seating, bar games, and a jukebox tucked in the corner if you'd rather stay and socialize a bit.

Please note that all the songs on the jukebox are appropriately hell-themed. Hopefully Sympathy for the Devil is universally loved.

STAND YOUR GROUND

Prompt I

With the Mares leaving, the nightmares fade right along with them. Unfortunately, the hotel outside is looking rather worse for wear because of it. It's been pummeled, cracks in the siding and broken windows are everywhere. It looks much more befitting of the hellish landscape surrounding it, true, but Lucifer is already putting the demonic staff on repairs. They'll be enlisting the help of guests, whether they want to or not. Watch out when the whips and other punishments come out to play for those who seem to be slacking too hard.

The staff hardly has patience for it, whether the guests are feeling up to it or not. In truth, neither are the demons. Exhaustion is hanging heavy in the air for everyone.

But life must go on.

On the plus side, at least all the doorknobs and locks seem to be returning.

For current guests, they may now be dealing with a Frenzy come down and finding that they still itch for another fix. It won't be an easy ride. Withdrawals come with extreme fatigue, aches and pains, chills, depression, and an urge to potentially hurt yourself or others as agitation sets in. If asked for tips on dealing with it, the staff will tell the guests to just rest whenever they can, stay hydrated, and eat. The nausea that follows might make that difficult, but the staff seems to have very little time for sympathy at this point in time.

For new guests, they'll find things in quite a bit of disarray. Fortunately the demons are eager to hand out chores. They range from cleaning up broken glass and other items around the hotel, to removing boards from windows, to Hell beasts that need to be moved back from the basement to their enclosure just outside the hotel and helped to settle back in.

Anyone is free to visit any new beast friends they've made whenever they desire after this point. As a distraction, the hotel staff will even be offering riding lessons for larger beasts, both horse and canine-like ones.

Despite the push for normalcy though, there's a wariness in the air. Whether that's because of the recent bout with the Mares or the hushed whispers continuing on about the Veiled Order, it's uncertain. Something just feels off. Not to worry though, it's probably just paranoia creeping in. No one really wants to talk about it either way.

Every evening, once all the hard work is done, the staff seems to find the time to get a roaring fire going in the lobby fireplace and set up a buffet of food and drink for everyone to enjoy. There's every sort of food imaginable, and even some you wish you'd never seen. Spit-roasted dog, anyone? It's a delicacy here. There's also a lot of desserts of varying kinds from chocolates to ice cream to cakes and pies. Beer, coffee, sodas, and anything else people could want to drink is also on offer. There are even some specialty drinks for the vampiric guests around here.

There's entertainment as well. The demons are putting on makeshift plays and doing improv comedy routines, as well as dragging guests into the act if they seem interested. They'll ask them to perform tricks or act out Shakespearean scenes. For what it's worth, it does actually seem like everyone is trying to just have some fun. There's no harm in refusing to act anything out beyond some mostly good-natured booing and ribbing.

The succubi have also been given a room to set up for personal massages (with or without the happy ending). Massages are done in groups though, so you might want to rethink anything too frisky. If asked, the succubi will step aside and allow guests to massage each other instead, if that's more comfortable.

They're offering to help bathe and wash anyone who desires it for extra pampering, but most folks are understandably wary of the succubi and incubi around. No sexual play is actually being forced in these circumstances since, for once, the demons are well fed on sexual energy.

Oddly enough, the staff does seem to just genuinely want to do something refreshing. Although it's still probably clearly more for themselves than anyone else. Better enjoy it while it lasts though!

Prompt II

As another way to spoil (or distract) the guests a bit more, a new location has been brought to life!

Lucifer has insisted upon a movie theatre. It's located a short walk from the hotel. It's impossible to miss as the sign flickers and it's surrounded by a few very broken down, abandoned buildings still.

Outside, it looks like an old classic establishment from a time long since passed, but it has all the modern conveniences inside at least. From plush seats that recline and maybe get a bit too into giving a massage to all the treats you could ask for. So grab yourself some popcorn, a soda, hot dogs, or whatever else you want. There's also alcoholic beverages available for those who really need help getting through a movie.



Currently, the theatre is showing: Bedazzled, Manos: The Hands of Fate, Captain America (1990 version), Troll 2.

But there are request slips to be filled out by sinners if there's another movie they'd like to see when they rotate films around each month.

Located within the theatre is an arcade with zombie-themed shooter games, Pac-Man, motorcycle racing, and claw machines. There are also a few other gaming machines and one that's supposed to test romantic compatibility between couples. See if you're truly meant to be!

REACH UP HIGH

Prompt I
Warnings: cutting, blood, torture.

Whether you've been here for months or you're freshly arrived, your demonic overlord expects some participation. You can try and shirk the responsibility, of course. You can bargain your way out of it for a while. But eventually, you may find yourself trapped in a room just off the gym that's been fondly dubbed the torture room. It has all manner of equipment in there, along with an iron maiden even.

But don't worry about any of that right now. It probably won't be used.

You can try the door, but even with super human strength or every lock picking skill in the book, you won't be able to open it.

It soon becomes apparent what you're supposed to do soon enough when someone else is eventually shoved in with you. Both of your lists of sins will appear on a table that's been placed in the center of the room with two handy knives. You can choose to guard these or not care at all that they're on display.

"Know that honesty is a good place to start on your road to redemption. Sure, it can be terrifying at first, but that's why you've been given a partner in this journey. Pick up your knives and carve at least one sin into each other's flesh. Help in the journey to be candid with everyone you should meet here!"

The voice echoes all around you again, just like in the nightmare, and once again there's the pull to give in. This voice really does seem like it has your best interests at heart.

"If you need a bit of encouragement, we'll be giving it shortly."

It isn't a lie or idle threat either. The longer you wait to do what's been requested of you, the more shallow cuts that will appear on both of your bodies. Are you really prepared to endure this pain when giving in would be so much easier?

And more than that, are you willing to let another suffer along with you?

Eventually, the cuts will stop if you suffer them long enough, but you'll have failed this challenge and sustained more damage than if you'd just gone along with it. Satan will also be very disappointed in you.

Prompt II

"Offering one another counsel is a trait God rather admires. Compassion, goodwill... all of that. He has requested a demonstration that all of you are complying with your redemption, so I thought of a rather interesting way to show him." Lucifer's voice rings out warm and almost affectionate as he speaks within the guests' heads, the sound ringing within their skulls and beckoning them to trust him.

Even as demons grab at guests and haul them into a room only to lock the door. As usual, the doors can't be opened through any means guests will be able to perform. At least the room is cozy looking, with a plush couch and chairs.

"I must say that I'm proud of all of you. What I ask, I have no doubt that you will accomplish. Please, both of you have a seat and discuss anything from a bad memory, a fear, or even a silly little phobia you may not be proud of. Listen to each other, help one another as I know you can."

That's right. Guests are expected to share a bit about themselves, whether it's a trauma or a past sin they feel guilty for. Maybe it's even something as simple as an irrational fear of spiders... as long as it's sincere, it counts. Guests must absolutely share something if they don't want to be punished. They'll also have to provide sympathy or counsel.

If no one speaks, there's always a catch. The longer one of the participants refuses to speak of anything real, or lies, the more a headache will start to set in. Guests will feel a slight throbbing in the temples that grows steadily worse until it's almost blinding. Gradually, blood will start oozing from eyes, nose, and ears.

All of it will stop the minute guests comply and play along.

It is possible to wait out the punishment if guests are willing to let each other suffer for it, but this will be considered a failed challenge and Lucifer will have to rethink all that pride he said he had.

FOLLOW ME DOWN

Prompt I
Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, potential non-con/dub-con, kinks.

Those newly arrived to Hell will hear about a drug called Frenzy. The effects of which include the lack of a need to sleep for as long as one uses it, feeling like the best version of oneself, and feeling better than they possibly ever have. It may even get to the point where pain is minimized or even welcomed as a pleasurable experience.

The downsides of the drug include giving into a frenzy of one's basest instincts, whether it's lust or anger or anything else that they're naturally inclined towards.

This drug will be offered at the club outside the hotel, but the succubi who make it will demand payment up front this time. This can come in the form of keeping the club up and cleaned, serving guests, or performing on stage. It may also include sex with the demons or other patrons, or putting on solo performances for an audience. The succubi won't particularly care how willing guests are when they come to demand their payment and may force it.

Some will tell you that it's absolutely worth the price though, especially down in Hell where there's so much pain already. What's wrong with a little bit of escape, really? Others will tell you to stay far away from it all.

Of course the demons fail to mention it has the potential to be addictive, but users will probably figure that out on their own once they've come down. It isn't their fault if no one did their research!

Beyond Frenzy, the club also offers a variety of drinks and aphrodisiac-laced foods. There are poles for dancing, plush couches throughout as well as more private tables. There are stages where sex machines are set up, as well as other areas to tie up volunteers or to set up any other type of play imaginable. There are private rooms that can be rented out for the night for those who really want to explore their desires.

Attractive succubi and incubi roam the club as staff or active participants. Some will become more forceful if they're hungry, others will gladly offer any sort of temptations they can.

Careful if you ever see through a their pretty illusion and see the old, angry crones they really are though. It's a bit hard to forget that.

Regular demons also frequent the club, ranging in looks from tiny, mischief-making goblins to goat-like beasts to more humanoid types. There may even be tentacled-beasts who may not be the best at conversation, but will be eager to participate any play they're invited to.

There's a dance floor and loud music pumping through the club in a dedicated space for those who'd rather just dance the night away safely detached from the sexual side of things. All manner of drugs will be offered for those who ask staff, not just Frenzy.

Prompt II
Warnings: Potential violence and abuse.
There are hooded figures making their way through the hotel, but it's oddly hard to focus on them. The more guests try, the more their attention wants to drift to anything else.

For those magically inclined, they may notice the hint of a spell or black magic, but it's just as easily forgotten as everything else.

Guests won't even notice when the figure brushes against them, a skeletal hand adorned with gold brushing over any exposed skin they can reach with a whisper light touch.

It's an encounter that's so easily written off as guests continue on with their day, it really isn't worth mentioning at all later.

But ever since it happened, it feels like there's a poison that's entered the guest's system, twisting around their insides until they feel almost hollowed out. It's a whisper in the ear, inspiring envious feelings towards their fellow guests and the local demons that may never have been there before.

Why do they have it so easy? Why do they have fewer sins and why do more people love them than they do you? Why are you so unimportant to them? Why does everything come so easily to them when you have to work so hard for it?

Envy doesn't have to make any rational sense at all. It can happen at the most inopportune times and leave one feeling like they're burning up from the inside at the injustice of it all.

Even if it's someone a guest generally likes or gets along with, they'll feel this nasty little sensation creeping in.

Rage replaces the envy eventually. The anger starts to become overwhelming. After all, you're the one who is truly worthy of all the attention, all the adoration, all the things they've got. Other people are merely foolish for not realizing it.

Or perhaps it's not even envy at what the other guy has. Perhaps it's because the guest craves all the attention and all the affection of this other person. The guest may never have sought love or possession before, but suddenly it's all they seem to crave from this one person. They'll do anything to have it or to become as close to one person as possible.

Doesn't it eventually just make you want to hurt them for it all? Whether verbally or physically, guests will be drawn to action, or even force if they must. They will desire to either claim what they want or make the other admit to never having deserved it.

Alternatively, guests may also be reduced to begging to be noticed by the object of their envy, desperate enough to do anything to get what they feel is rightfully theirs.

This influence will be hard to fight off, but stronger guests will be able to fend off the envious effects of the mysterious demons. Others won't be so lucky.

MISC.
Thanks for joining us for our fifth test drive meme, sinners! Reserves are now open for the upcoming app round on September 1st

If you want to speak with Lucifer, you're free to text or pray to him right here.

If you have questions, comments, suggestions, etc., go here.


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Comments

Dodger | Original Character | OTA (cw for drugs, violence and Dodger being a creep.)

[smokedout]

Arrival

It takes all of ten minutes for Dodger to make himself comfortable in the bar. Outwardly, there's no sign that being in Hell affects him. Honestly, he's a bit underwhelmed. He'd expected... more, from the descriptions he'd been given. Feels a bit like a slap on the wrist, especially with free drinks involved. So he'll be found lounging in the corner, chain-smoking and kicking back shots of whiskey.

It is Hell, though, so he figures no one will mind a bit of mischief. How many times can he play Highway to Hell on the jukebox before someone catches on?

Stand Your Ground II

Dodger isn't really one for movies; sure, he likes them, but they're not something he really gets into on his own. More of a group activity. What he can get behind, though, is the arcade. He's taken an interest in the zombie-shooting game - mostly because the gun is much easier to get his head around than the buttons on other machines. He's actually doing amazingly at it, and it doesn't seem like he's blinked since he started.

If no one stops him, though, this game is going to be occupied all night.

Reach Up High I

Dodger honestly doesn't even try to get out of the room. He gets the concept, from the beginning; it isn't the first time he's been trapped for compliance. If there's anything that really gets a reaction from him, it's seeing his list of sins... there's a cock of his brow as he watches the list appear and grow longer, and longer, and longer... his head turns to watch it trail off of the table. Then, with a contemplative sigh, he takes a knife and turns it over idly in his hand.

"Are we drawing straws, or do you want to get carved first?"

There's something unnervingly calm about his approach; he's used to this sort of thing, and that much is obvious from every aspect of his body language.

Reach Up High II

"...No."

Dodger leans back in his chair, cocking his head to the side as his eyes dart around the room, trying to decide exactly where he should focus to address the disembodied voice. That's really all he has to say on the matter; his fears and memories are private, valuable information and they're staying that way.

After a moment, though, his eyes slide over to size up his companion... more than anything, to gauge if they're going to join in his strike or cave first.

Follow Me Down I

It's no surprise whatsoever that Dodger gets his hands on Frenzy the moment he learns about it. Not sleeping makes it pretty easy to work for his next hit, but the side effects are a killer... he can barely focus any time someone walks too close, holding back the urge to feel them up. For now he's positioned himself behind the club's bar, to at least give himself a barrier and keep his head clear. Which, unfortunately, means that anyone not using a coaster is getting bitched at.

"Hey." He calls someone's attention, leaning close enough to smell the smoke, gasoline and alcohol in his breath. "I'm losing my fucking mind back here. You wanna waste a couple minutes on the stage?"

Misc

[Feel free to throw random starters at me - Dodger is not very friendly but I am! Click here for some general information about Dodger and catch-all warnings because he is a... particularly trigger-heavy character.]

[knucklesdirty]

Francis doesn't indulge in Frenzy too much- only when someone offers- but he does like the club. And it's not like there's a hell of a lot to do around here. So if he's not at the little archery range he and Clint managed to rig in the gym, then he's here. He just ordered a drink, finishing off a glass of cheap whiskey.

At the question he shrugs his shoulders. Purple shirt, black jeans, but he polishes off the last of his drink and sets it on the counter.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Sure, why not." Francis was a little bit easy, not that he advertises it. And even if the guy's breath smelled a little like a molotov cocktail, he wasn't bad looking, just rough around the edges. Which was sort of what he went for, anyway. Francis was tall, a little lanky, but with archer's shoulders and a certain fondness for the color purple.

[smokedout]

Dodger has the advantage of distinguished breeding, even if it's muddled by the wear and tear of living the way he does. More than that, there's a predatory allure in his eyes to draw others in.

He offers the man half a smirk, before his form bursts into a cloud of sparks. A moment later he reappears behind him, just long enough to grab onto him by the belt loops. The world then seems to fall apart in similar sparks, and Francis will feel the sensation of metal bars crushing down on his chest before they reappear on the club's stage. It's always a bit of an adjustment, being teleported, but there isn't much time to focus on that when Dodger's hands are already wandering all over him.

[knucklesdirty]

Francis gets the draw of rough living. He'd grown up in a ruined world, he gets leaning into whatever indulgences you can get your hands on. For him it's mostly people. Especially the ones that are a little bit dangerous.

He's not expecting the way his form changes into sparks, and then there are hands on the loops of his pants, dragging him along and it feels crushing, leaves him gasping for breath for a moment when they appear on the the stage. He doesn't seem too shocked by it, though, more a vague sort of interest than anything. He leans into the way that hands skim over his body, his own rough fingertips curling against him, tugging him in a little bit closer.

Didn't even know his name yet, but he liked how he touched him, and Francis could be a little bit easy when it came to falling into someone when he still had cheap liquor on his tongue.

[smokedout]

In all honesty, Dodger doesn't really care who he is and doubts he'll remember his name even if he asks. Right now he's just a body to be used and discarded, and that is how Dodger likes it. Thinking of him as a person would just get in the way of the buzz.

One of his hands finds its way into Francis's hair, holding him close while he nips harshly at his bottom lip. The other hand is holding onto his hip to facilitate grinding up against him, not that it's doing much with his own thick jeans in the way. Before long he's yanking at Francis's pants with an abnormally warm hand, silently demanding them off before he scorches them off.

ohman sorry this got lost somehow ugh gmail

[knucklesdirty]

To be honest, that's sort of Francis' kink, the thing that he looks for. There were people that were more, of course. There were situations where there was a person that he took a shine to and he wanted their hands all over his body. But a place like this, when what he wanted more than anything was a distraction, to not have to think about things?

Getting used was right up his alley. Rough and harsh until he couldn't think of anything else.

He murmurs, a little wanton as teeth nip at his bottom lip and strong fingers curl in the blonde strands of his hair. It's easy to get pulled along, to lean into it as fingers curl against the curve of Francis' hips. He can feel the heat of his touch, which is strange, but he does get the message, a huff of amusement in his throat. His hands slip from the man's chest to help get his pants off, and thankfully they're not tight so he doesn't have too much trouble kicking them off over his boots.

Leaves him in just a skimpy pair of very purple briefs. Those he's not quite so willing to give up just yet, but he's not worried about it in this moment. His hands sliding along the waistband of the other man's pants, a low hum as he presses his hips against him, all long legs and lean muscle. He nips at his lips in return, but it's a little softer, playful- enticing more than anything.

SORRY I ALSO DID NOT REPLY.... sob

[smokedout]

There's a studded belt in the way but Dodger makes quick work of unfastening it, shoving his jeans down to reveal boxers labeled with 'pull down in case of emergency', and the frankly massive hard-on pulling them taut. The hand in Francis's hair pulls him down sharply, forcing him down onto his knees. From there he releases his grip just long enough to shed his hoodie and shirt; his skin underneath is riddled with scars and tattoos, some of which are notably satanic. A silver necklace hangs around his neck, with a sun charm, which had been hidden under his clothing.

Francis gets just enough time to take this in before Dodger grips him again, pulling down his boxers and pressing his cock to the man's lips.

IT'S FINE I just like this a lot ahem XD

[knucklesdirty]

The words on his boxers get a twitch of Francis' lips, but it's the size of the man's erection that draws a low whine in the back of his throat. Slender archer's fingers brushing to touch him through the fabric, and then he's being pulled down and he lets himself slide down to his knees. Blue eyes focused on him as he strips off the layers. And oh, there's part of him that wants to trace his tattoos with his tongue. He only really vaguely gets the satanic references, but he likes how the scars and ink layer against each other.

He's caught up in it, in the moment, because he's always liked people that were pushy, rough with him, and Dodger is so much exactly that Francis can't help himself. He leans a little into the fingers that curl in his hair, and when that cock pushes to his soft lips there's an almost eagerness to how the blonde moves. His tongue lapping against warm skin, wrapping lips around the girth of him with a low murmur of breath as he sucks all wet and eager.

SAME... i just hope i don't cross any boundaries with dodger's grossness.

[smokedout]

It's about here where Dodger really finds the limit of his self-control, with the side effects of the Frenzy coursing through him at full force. He has enough time to growl, "Open wider." under his breath, before yanking him closer and thrusting down into his throat.

His sheer strength really becomes clear now; he has the presence of mind to pull out every so often and give Francis a second or two to breathe, but otherwise he may as well be pushed around by steel bars. Dodger's mind is fuzzy and unfocused, his breath coming out clipped and ragged as he pounds into that tight heat without a single thought for the man he's fucking. And speaking of heat, his skin seems to have heated up a little more... both his hands and his cock are definitely warmer than a normal human's should be, but not altogether unpleasant. Yet.

hah, Francis is pretty into grossness tbh

[knucklesdirty]

There's that growl, and the tone is enough for Francis to pick up on the fact that whatever control the other man had was wearing thin. So he obeys easy, all but expects it when he's being pulled in, his cock shoving down his throat. There's a low whimper at the feel of it, the thick girth of him, and Francis' fingers curl against his hip.

He can feel his strength, can tell that he's in over his head, but he doesn't try to fight it, to pull away. He likes it like this, being pushed, taken to his limits, maybe past them. And he's always had a fondness for blowjobs that get a little too rough. So as much as he might struggle to breathe in those moments when the man gives him permission to, he stays there on his knees, blue eyes bright and a little unfocused a little wet at the edges. He's doing his best to make the way he slides down his throat easy, though there are moments when he goes too long without giving him a breath where Francis starts to gag against his cock.

He registers how warm his body is, but he doesn't think anything of it, not yet. Not when all he can think of is how good it feels as that cock fucks his throat.

Reach Up High II

[dealwiththedeva]

Beelzemon smirks at the one-word answer from the man he's stuck in the room with. "Aw, what's a matter? Afraid of feelings?" He taunts. Really, it seems like that's the case with a lot of people here. Beelzemon himself can sometimes be like that, but others, it also seems like he wears them on his sleeve.

He's taking up most of the room on the couch just by virtue of being gigantic at nine feet tall, his armored tail awkwardly lashing back and forth as he tries to find a good position to keep it in. Really, the demons running this joint needed to have more consideration for those with extra appendages. Beelzemon, with his extreme appearance like a cross between a demon and a biker with black feathery angelic wings that are currently tucked in tight against his sides, looks like he fits right in among them.

[smokedout]

His gaze slides all the way up to Beelzemon's face, before traveling back down to the spikes on his boots and the awkwardly writhing tail. He looks a bit like a demon himself, and Dodger can't seem to decide whether he likes the look of him or not. Well, he does like the look. But he isn't sure whether this thing poses a threat, and given that he's got a good three feet over Dodger...

At the question his eyes narrow slightly. "What about you? Care to share first?"

[dealwiththedeva]

Beelzemon isn't sure what to make of that up-and-down look Dodger is giving him. He's used to being stared at, but there's something else there he can't interpret it. Beelzemon decides to dismiss it unless something about it draws his attention further.

Beelzemon lifts his arms up and knits his clawed hands together behind his head. "Nah, I don't. Not in the mood for sharin' a sad story and getting you sitting there like a stubborn mule in return."

[smokedout]

"Then I guess we're at an impasse."

There's a hint of a snarkier comment in his tone, though; why tease me if you're just as insecure?

He sits back in his seat, fixing Beelzemon with a challenging look. But before long his gaze is straying, finding it a bit harder to focus as his head starts to throb. He doesn't really connect it at the moment; headaches aren't uncommon for him. For now, he just focuses on holding back the outer signs of stress.

[dealwiththedeva]

"So you're just gonna sit there and not talk? Yeah, that's gonna be real productive in the long run." Fine, if this guy doesn't want to talk, they can spend all day here for all the Digimon cares.

But it isn't too long before Beelzemon can feel a pain starting in his head. It's like his conscience has a physical form now and is batting away the insides of his skull. He reaches up one large hand, rubbing at the sides of his face. "Feel like talkin' yet?" He asks.

[smokedout]

His eyes follow Beelzemon's hand, and he lets out a low grumble as he shakes his head.

"If you want to, feel free."

The headache is starting to get to him; he leans down and presses the heels of his hands into his forehead, trying to relieve the pressure. It's far from getting him to spill, though; he's been tortured before, and he's been killed before, and the pain will stop one way or another. He knows better - has been trained better - than to cave in the moment.

[dealwiththedeva]

Beelzemon shakes his head no, stubbornly refusing still. He's not going to crack that easily. It isn't until he feels something at the corner of his eye and reaches up to wipe it away that he realizes he now has blood oozing out slowly from all three eyes. As soon as he brushes it off, more appears.

Okay, he can take a hint.

He leans forward a little, a pensive look on his face. "So, bad memories and fears, huh? Seems like I got plenty of both of those these days." He thinks for a moment. "Guess what I'm afraid of is failure. If I don't succeed, that'll help speed up the whole process of the world 'n everything in it being destroyed. Two worlds, actually." As soon as he starts talking, the blood coming from his eyes stop and the headache begins to lessen.

"Your turn, precious. Unless you're still gonna sit there and act like you're gonna outsmart this little game of their's."

[smokedout]

Dodger's eyes narrow, unsympathetically filing the information away for later. Despite appearances, the create in front of him is a hero type.. it's a little disappointing, all things considered.

His hearing is starting to get overtaken by the ringing in his head, and a few drops of blood fall from his nose to splatter onto the floor. It's starting to feel like a bad memory trip but much, much worse. It makes the process of searching for something to share somewhat harder... he still can't shake the thought that Augustine would kill him if he knew he was cracking under this sort of pressure.

By the time Dodger finally speaks, blood is spilling down into his mouth and down his chin.

"My-" He coughs, "-my family had a couple guard dogs, when I was growing up. Big rottweilers, chained out in the yard." The headache is starting to lessen, and he gains some momentum. "So one day, some idiot tried to jump the fence. Just some kid - eighteen, tops. By the time we found him, he'd just about had his arm ripped off. So my- the man that raised me... figured it was time I got some real world experience. I got the honor of shooting that kid in the head, before his crew cleaned up the site."

He decides not to mention how young he was, when it happened; he's said enough, and he's honestly shaken by the memory. It isn't the worst he's done, not by a long shot - but it lingers, as the moment he really lost some part of himself.

[dealwiththedeva]

Dodger might think a little differently if he knew the turn to becoming a hero was only recent. Beelzemon had been wicked and cruel, causing enough damage that he'd indirectly been responsible for unleashing a monster far worse on both worlds. Being drunk on power would to that to a Digimon with as many issues as him.

Beelzemon just sits back and waits for Dodger to get to the point where he wants to speak. He's beginning to think that the man will never talk and just endure bleeding nonstop when he finally starts to talk. He listens to the story with an expression that's hard to read. Only really having his eyes and mouth showing make it easier to hide what he's really thinking.

"Jeez Louise, you had a messed-up childhood," Beelzemon remarks. If that was a normal day, it explained so much about Dodger already. His eyes go a little faraway when he speaks again. "Don't suppose your old man ever realized that anyone can kill, did he? That's not the part that's hard. Livin' with yourself afterwards, that's the real hard part."

reaching up high

[jelliclerats]

He's paired with Nezumi, who has already been through this. Leaning against the wall, he stands with his arms crossed over his chest, steely eyes trained on Dodger. It's no surprise. Some people hold their pain close to their chest. Normally, Nezumi doesn't care. He makes a habit of not getting into their business. Now, it holds him captive.

"Have fun arguing with the devil. I'm sure you'll win."

His sarcasm is thick. He's played this game, and he knows what works and what doesn't. Giving into the enemy is never fun, but sometimes, it's smart.

"It's not like you're in Hell."

SORRY THIS IS LATE...

[smokedout]

He rolls his eyes, looking for a moment like a moody teenager. As far as he's concerned, he's been to Hell before and this doesn't come close. This place hasn't quite put the fear of God in him like Arzial's cult did.

"What's the worst he can do? If we're here, we're already dead, yeah?" He tips his head, flashing Nezumi a challenging look. "You planning to play along?"

no problem

[jelliclerats]

Nezumi assumed the same, but he survived in that Hell the same way he will here. Unlike the Western District, Hell can inflict damage without ever touching them.

"We can still hurt, and that's not worth the cost. What, you don't have some small confession, or are you just being stubborn?"

Nezumi studies him, curious. He likes to learn stuff the hard way, does he?

[smokedout]

Dodger shrugs idly. He tends to be fairly stubborn about pain, so it's no surprise he isn't really listening to the warning. And yes, he very much does learn best the hard way.

"Information is valuable. Any information." He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one with the snap of his fingers. "I don't see why I should trust you with knowing anything about me."

That headache is already starting to creep in, though; he's always been particularly susceptible to things like this, but at least he can tolerate the pain for a bit. Long enough to be a stubborn ass about this.

[jelliclerats]

"You'd prefer to suffer pain than to tell me about a time you stole cigarettes from your local store?"

Obviously that's a random example. Nezumi has no idea what Dodger's crimes are, but he assumes there are sins considering they're both in Hell.

"Being stubborn is only impressive to a degree. After that, it's stupid. We can wait, but it's going to end the same way and waste our time."

There's another option, he supposes.

"I can start. That should give your headache the time it needs to grow."

[smokedout]

There's a twitch on his face, almost as if he's about to laugh, but there's no humor in his eyes. He pulls his focus away from him instead, and takes a drag from his cigarette.

"Sure. Go ahead." He leans his head on one hand, rubbing his forehead idly. "Whatever your story's worth, I'll match it."