Weapon of Choice

Chapter 3

After Exodus and Hazu took turns explaining what being a demon of agility meant, we ran through a couple of test runs just to be sure they were correct. They had me do several different kinds of jumps; in a few, I ended up jumping as high as the tree tops. I also got to race both Hazu and Exodus. I've never seen anyone move as fast as Ex does, she's extremely quick. I could barely see her while she ran. On the other hand, I beat Hazu. He said he's not made for speed, but I told him that his teleporting ability made up for it. That made him smile before he started to pick on me again.

When the tests were over, and we figured out that I could do about every gymnastic move in existence, the three of us returned to Ex's house and sat down in the living room, and sat on our respective couches; Hazu sat closest to me, while Exodus sat across the way. There weren't any TVs or computers in this particular room. Exodus had it set up so that all of the seating face each other, and she called it her conversation pit. Hell didn't get good wifi, only the mediocre three channels that give fake news. She said she'd rather talk to people she had over. A fireplace sat in the far corner, but it looked like it hadn't been lit for centuries.

"Okay so," Exodus spoke up, stopping my observations. "Hazu. Would you like to take Meer under your wing this time?"

Hazu peeked over at me, then glared at Ex. Maybe he didn't like me as much as I thought. "He's got white hair, Ex."

"And?"

"And I don't." He twirled a strand of his hair around his finger before tossing it to the side. I sighed quietly, feeling like more of a burden than a friend at this point. Hazu swiftly took notice of this and changed his tune. "Hey, Meer, it's absolutely nothing against you. I'm just not sure I'm the one who should train you in combat."

I mumbled under my breath in response, staring down at my hands while I folded my fingers together in my lap. "I still don't quite get the whole hair thing. Does the white really make me that strong?"

Exodus laughed quietly, her shoulders shaking gently as she pulled her hair out of its ponytail. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves. "The more white you have in your hair, the more strength you have as a demon. You and I, Meer, have all white hair, making us some of the strongest demons in Hell. Hazu's hair fades from black to white."

"Does the white grow out more as he progresses his power?"

"Yes!" Exodus smiled at me, squinting her eyes with kindness. "When I first met Hazu, his white was a very dark gray."

Hazu rapped his knuckles on the edge of the couch arm, sneaking a look at me every so often. Eventually, he caved when the two of us made eye contact and began to speak again. "Demons with all black hair don't get to roam around freely as we do." I tilted my head in confusion while I waited for him to continue. He did so with a sigh. "Demons that have completely black hair are the lower rank, the ones forced to torture damned souls."

It was silent for a minute. Each of us took a bit to be thankful we weren't obligated to carry out such a scarring task.

"Did you ever have to do that, Hazu?" I asked, twiddling my fingers and staring down at my hands again. The question seemed a little personal, but there were things I felt I needed to know.

"Yes," Hazu responded softly, adjusting in his seat before standing up and sauntering over to my couch. He patted my left knee as he sat down next to me. "Yes, I have. And before you ask, I remember every second of it. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I'm glad you didn't have to go through that, Meer. You're too sweet."

I blushed at his compliment, turning my head away from him. The butterflies were back. "Well, uh, there's really no way to know if I did that or not. I don't have any memories before I fell, remember?"

"Oh, that's something you'd remember."

"Ah, I see." I bit my lip, gazing up into Hazu's eyes. "Are you okay?"

Both Hazu and Exodus stopped speaking, or moving, for a bit. My question had caught them off guard. I could've sworn I heard Hazu gasp quietly, holding his breath in surprise. When he spoke again, his voice came out more scratchy than usual, like he was close to tears. "I tortured souls for almost one hundred years, and you're asking if I'm okay?"

"Well, yeah." I shrugged. "There must've been a reason you were made to be an upper rank after all that time. Maybe someone decided that you didn't deserve what you were stuck doing, and granted you some relief. People get sent to Hell for stupid reasons, I'd assume. You're way too good-natured, gentle, and caring to be down here. I'm asking if you're okay because those memories probably haunt you."

"Thank you... I'm, uh, I'm alright." Hazu's voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

Exodus swallowed quietly and then raised her hand. "I know why I was sent to Hell."

"Really?" I whipped my head toward her.

"Yeah. It's because I'm gay. And back then, more than at least a thousand years ago, that was frowned upon. I never had to torture souls because I came down here as an upper rank. I didn't deserve to be tortured, especially by torturing others."

"Maybe that's why I'm down here too."

"Really?" Hazu finally spoke again, smirking down at me and resting his arm on the back of the couch behind me.

For a while, the three of us sat and shared stories. Well, mostly the two of them, I just listened happily from my seat while blushing at Hazu's constant flirting. The mood shifted to warm and light from our previous conversation, giving me time to look at the scenery of Ex's home once more. Behind me, three large, arched windows looked out into the front yard. The ceilings were about twenty feet up. They looked as though they were sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. Many depictions of devils and demons danced throughout the designs, giving me something to stare at while Hazu and Ex laughed amongst themselves as they relieved nostalgic memories.

The doors in Ex's house were almost as tall as the windows, and they were made of ebony with golden door handles. It was a pretty contrast against the white walls that were found everywhere throughout the home. All of the furniture in this room was a deep red that matched the brick of the fireplace.

Hell was a place of 'everything is not as it seems' the more I thought about it. The demons, at least the ones I knew, were kind. The houses were run down on the outside, but in mint condition on the inside. The more I saw, the more I liked the place. Maybe that was the demon in me peeking out to show itself, telling me I'd be okay down here.