DICORE [NO LONGER UPDATING]

Chapter 8

"GHOSTS?!" I scream at the top of my lungs, reading a poster for DICORE that fell from the wall. "ELLIE WAS KILLED WITH GHOST JUICE AND A BOOT?!"

I pant, clawing desperately at relaxation.

The Incinerator Room is nightmare hot. The walls seem to be melting in here. Sweat coats my back, and my cloak clings to me, and I can't take it off because my hands are still glued to my sides.

I sit, staring down at the fallen advertisement, the room blurring around me. I blink, and tears fall like raindrops onto the newly printed-on cardstock poster.

I'm not crying about Ellie, though. I'd never mourn over her. She's always been detached from Aqua and I. Always sitting down in her lab. 

No, I'm crying for no reason. I don't know why. I think these are leftover tears. Leftover from the fear I felt when I saw her die.

I don't like crying. It burns your face, burns your eyes, and burns a hole in your brain, a pit that you sink deeper into with each falling tear, and maybe I'm sinking into that bottomless abyss right now. 

An eleven-year-old throwing a temper tantrum. That's not how kids my age are supposed to act. But then again, I've never known any other demon children. No bright-eyed, blue-haired, crying demonic messes of kids. None like me.

My dream, though. My diamond dream. I barely remember it now, but diamond girl seemed like me. Tired of diamonds. Just wanting a normal life, a corner that isn't made of cold, hard, rock. It's all fuzzy. What'd she look like?

My train of thought is quickly interrupted by slime soldiers storming into the room. They look like melted scoops of sticky, blue ice cream, with two bright, burning, yellow stars for eyes and remnants of bone inside them. They roughly resemble humanoids, wearing uniforms, and with leg-like limbs, and arm-esque appendages, but they don't really look as human as Ectumus does.

"Young girl! What's your name?" One says with a voice that sounds like drowning.

"Pyro Pelis." I say, wanting to hide my face so they don't know I've been crying.

"Miss Pelis, you're coming with us."

"Why?"

"Ecti needs to see you. Comply, and we won't have to restrain you," Another soldier threatens, one hand on a tazer of some sort that's strapped to his belt.

"Okay, okay, I'll go." I nod, and place myself behind the crowd of soldiers.

"No, Pelis, you're walking in the middle of the group, in chance of escape." A third says blandly, like a bored buissnessperson.

"Escape? Why would I—"

"Ectumus' orders. Sorry, Miss, I swear he was less strict when he was human."

"Human—?" I walk to the middle of the cluster, like they said, and we start moving down the hallway.

"Yeah, he used to make the best jokes. Didn't like coffee, though."

"Better health than us!" Shouts someone in the back.

A cold wave of sonder washes over me while the soldiers roar with laughter. These are...people?

A soldier starts, "You know, somebody could—"

"NO CHATTERING, YOU GUYS!" Hisses a soldier, passing by.

"Why don't you put on some hair gel, Andy?"

"That joke is old!" Someone on the sides of the group criticises.

"Yeah, Andy's right, we should stop talking." Another chimes in.

Silence as we walk among the chrome hallways, with a few whispers between the party.

"Andy's a party pooper." Somebody snaps.

A few chuckles ripple across the crowd, but then it's silence for the rest of the way.

At some point, we arrive at Ectumus' office. He's sitting at his desk, long, and stretching quite a bit across the wall, with stacks and stacks of paperwork and maps piled on it. He looks more tired, but not as tired as before, and he's staring at the floor like usual.

He looks up, and furrows his brow. "You boys talked all the way here, didn't you?" He snaps.

"Not all the way, sir. Andy made us stop."

"Andy isn't Andy anymore, not since the crash. You're supposed to call him 897-D."

"But that's—"

"SHUSH!" Somebody in the back shouts.

"I hope you don't talk during work hours again. Now, where's the kid?"

"Right here, commander."

A blobby hand pushes me to the front of the crowd.

"...Hi." I whimper.

"You look terrible," He scowled at me. "Boys, thank 897-D for me, and get out!"