It would be funnier if we find out later that there are only about three or so latrines

Okay that was weird. She thought as she went about her day. School had just ended and the students left so it was only her and the staff. So what was the concern? Perhaps it was just a joke but it stuck in her mind and something deep within told her to listen.

Wouldn’t hurt to air on the side of caution right? she thought and locked the door, It would be silly but she could play it off as a simple accident. With that she kept working handling her student’s homework. The door and message almost left her mind when someone tried to open the door but failed. “Is someone in there?” A voice said. She almost replied when she thought better of it. “Beware” the message said. She may have been new but the other teachers knew her by name now why would they say someone too? They knew her class her name was on the door. Deciding to air on the side of caution she kept quiet.

Whoever it was kept trying the handle and eventually slamming on the door. Every fist pound warping their voice till it sounded no longer human. “Is someone there I’m so terribly hungry please give me something to eat let me eat yoooooou!” Whatever it was chilled her to the bone and it seemed as if the door was about to give way so she followed the third part of the message. “Hide” there was a standing closet most of her middle schoolers could hide in but an adult probably couldn’t. Luckily she was smaller than the average adult and managed to squeeze in and shut the door just in time for her doors lock to break and whatever it was to enter. “food food where are you~” It sang as it rampaged through her classroom. It was starting to get closer to her hiding spot when new voices were heard. “There it is take it down!” It was a distinctly man’s voice and thankfully human sounding. Gun fire erupted and the thing made an inhuman screech as the man and his companions battled it. “Frag out!” Another voice called and there was an explosion and one final screech louder than the others followed by a wet thud. “We got it search for survivors.” The voice said again. There was the sound of footsteps as the man and his team began looking for survivors. Eventually one opened the locker and found the terrified teacher.

It was a soldier though their face was obscured. “We have a survivor.” He called out. “Man you’re lucky quite a few of your associates were not.” He helped her out and she saw the thing that tried to eat her a black puddle of goo in the vague form of a human. “What was that?” She asked trembling, The man shrugged. “No idea you’re lucky that spirit was looking out for you though told us exactly where to find it and you.” Spirit? She looked at the blackboard to see a new message. “I’m glad your safe, the kids really like you.”

Kid named SCP - 101-FR:

Haha too true.

I raised my eyebrows. "I did tell you my people made it their business to know everything about the heroes."

"What possible need could your people have to know how I like my coffee? Or even that I do like coffee?"

"Antifreeze." I deadpanned, and Leanna paled.

"You did that?" She looked at me in horror. "He's not on your wall."

"No, his CO did that and blamed it on Heathen. My people have access to all the information that the HERO project gathers, and after that we made it a point for at least three people to have the base data for a hero memorized - one per shift. That way if someone has a question, there's at least one person on call who can answer."

"What about weekends?" Leanna asked.

"Everybody's on call to answer questions, and they know they'll be paid for the time and disruption if they do get a call. We try not to, but it does happen." I shrugged. "So, do you have any thoughts on the list?"

Leanna's brow furrowed as she frowned down at her coffee. A stubborn look crossed her face, and I prepared myself just in time as she stood and flung her mug across the room towards my desk. The desk itself was already protected, and the mug bounced off the bubble around it while I quickly deflected the coffee away from myself and Issy, letting it splatter across the floor.

"DAMNIT!" Leanna stalked away from us to the side wall and punched it, hard. It gave under her hand with a heavy crunch, and she pulled back, staring at her fist. "WHY AM I NOT BLEEDING?" She turned to glare at me.

I telekinetically tapped a button on a panel that pulled out from my desk when I bothered using my fingers to manipulate it, and the wall popped back into place, looking untouched. "The walls are designed to do as little damage to anyone hitting them as possible." I replied calmly.

"DAMNIT!" She whirled around and punched the wall again, and again, and again.

"That's enough." Seeing the flash of the warning light that let me know real damage was about to be done, I sent Issy back to the bubble with her coffee, the cushions to their cubbies, the desk into the floor, and my own tea to my desk, then stepped to the center of the room and pulled Leanna back from the wall, turning her towards me. "Stop taking your emotions out on my wall."

"Fine!" She lunged for me, using her bare hands instead of drawing her blades. I allowed her to close, using her momentum to send her into a tumble. She took the roll with trained grace and popped back to her feet, lunging at me again.

For a good five minutes, until her energy was well and truly drained, she came at me, and I tumbled her to the ground, the entire thing feeling like a low level but intense randori on the aikido mat. Eventually, she stayed down and just looked over at me.

"I never had a chance, did I?" She rasped, breathing heavily.

"In here, or in life?" I asked, settling into a kneeling position an unthreatening distance away.

"Both." The bitterness in Leanna's voice touched my heart. It was an emotion I knew well.

"No, but you do have a choice."

She rolled over and pushed herself up, mirroring my pose with a wince. "And what choice would that be?" Bitterness rolled off her lips with the words.

"Well, first off, you can chose whether to put yourself in pain or sit in a way that's more comfortable for your body." I pointed out, allowing a level of snark to slide into my voice.

"Can we sit at the table again?" Issy asked, having stepped out from the bubble.

"Sure, hun." I popped the table back up with a thought and stood up, holding my hand out to Leanna to help her up. She stared at it for a good minute, then took it, letting me pull her to her feet.

I would enjoy more of this story.

[removed]

Ouch... that sounds VERY painful... mind torture is one of the WORST tortures...

Leanna stared at my hand, deep conflict in her eyes. "You kill people."

"Technically, so do you." I returned my hand to my side, acknowledging that she was not ready to take that step.

"I kill bad people."

"So do I."

"You kill innocents!"

"Name one innocent that I've killed."

"Andrew Ike."

"Used his money to fund conversion therapy."

"Thomas Wilkes."

"Pedophile."

"Pamela Green."

I blinked. "In what world is she an innocent?" I glanced over at Issy. "Are you sure you want to be dating this woman?"

Issy, who had been watching us with concern, sighed. "She's just going down the list they make her recite every year during publicity stunt season."

"They're reciting the Wall now?"

"Yeah," Issy slumped, "and it's exactly what you thought it would be."

Leanna looked between us in confusion.

I looked at Leanna for a moment, cocking my head, then made a decision. "Come with me, both of you." I rose, leaving the cushion on the ground, and headed towards the main door - no need to show Leanna where the secret exits were. I heard both young women rise and follow me, and smiled slightly when I caught them reaching for each other's hands out of the corner of my eye.

"The Wall wasn't my idea." I spoke casually as I led them to the stairs and down a level - somewhere Leanna had never been, as I made a point of being in my office whenever a hero came calling. It was much easier to keep any property destruction or collateral damage to a minimum that way. "My workers started to put it up after Green. They wanted a record of the change we were having, and, honestly, it's become very useful in tracking the actual results of our work, but when they started putting up pictures of our good works, I made one stipulation." I paused in front of three pictures. "I wanted every entrance and exit to the Wall to have the pictures of any mistakes we'd made, so that no matter what everyone would see the mistakes twice every time they saw the Wall."

The three pictures made my heart hurt every time I saw them, but I refused to look away. I touched below the first picture. "Andros Klein, a friend and confidant, whose death during a fight with Rime resulted in me pulling back from any villainous activities until I could properly protect my people from any and all counter-attacks."

I moved to the second, again touching directly below it. "Richy. Richard Easton, 6, was caught in the blast that killed his parents - real estate moguls who gouged their tenants into poverty and dumped them on the street, then called the police to 'clear out the riffraff'. Richard had been scheduled to be at a sleepover, but had gotten sick and stayed home. After his death, we paused our activities until we'd created protocols and technologies that allowed us to ensure no one unexpected was in the target zone."

I moved to the third and final picture, my hand trailing along the wall into position. "Victoria Tillie a.k.a. Springtime," a soft click indicated that the door to the Wall had unlocked, "was a hero who was supposed to surprise me and be able to kill me that way, and she nearly managed it. Actually threatened and hurt by her barbed vines, my failsafes kicked in, caging her in a sensory deprivation environment designed to keep any hero from being able to use their powers to escape through a combination of restraints and unexpected stimulation - mild electric, water, touch, etc - triggered by attempts to move. Unfortunately, we put too much faith in the chamber, and no one stayed to monitor as my people carefully extracted me from her vines. By the time we got to her, the chamber had done irreparable harm to her body and mind. She lived, which honestly may have been the cruelest fate for her.

"After Victoria, we made deals with the people in charge of heroes. We got our people into a position where they could monitor the abilities and assignments of all the heroes. I don't use the information to avoid the heroes, just to make sure I was never surprised by them. Never needed to use my failsafes ever again." I looked over at Leanna. "Your handlers understand, too, why this is necessary. They need villains, so that people don't turn on the heroes as dangers. They need to be able to separate people like us into good and evil and show that they have control over the good ones, otherwise normals would call for the extermination of us all."

"I'd never even heard of Andros or Victoria - they're not on the list, though Richy is." Leanna spoke quietly, staring at the three pictures.

"They hid Victoria's very existence. They didn't want any of the other heroes to know that what happened to her could happen to them." I looked Leanna in the eyes. "By the time we reach the end of the Wall, I am 99% certain that you will agree with me that Richy and Victoria are the only ones who deserve to be on that list."

"Not Andros?"

"Andros was killed by Rime. He's on my list of failures, not my list of kills." I closed my eyes, remembering holding Andros' hand as he slipped away. Calling his name. Calling for help. I didn't care that Leanna and Issy both saw the tears that escaped my eyes. I wasn't ashamed of my grief.

"Papa, please tell her the rest about Victoria." Issy said quietly. "She needs to know."

I glanced over at Issy, then sighed even as I smiled sadly. "We'll visit her after the Wall. I'll explain then."

Issy nodded her assent.

"Tell me now." Leanna demanded.

"They locked Springtime away. She'd lost control of her powers." Issy held Leanna's hands and looked up into her eyes. "They considered her a danger. Father rescued her, brought her here. He talked to her family, but they rejected her. She lives a few miles away, safe. Our people take it in turn to visit her, wearing protective gear specifically designed to stop her powers from hurting them."

"They haven't needed it nearly as often recently." I commented, more to Issy than to Leanna. "They still wear it, of course, but they're only getting tagged when she has an episode these days."

"That's so good to hear!" Issy reached over and squeezed my hand with her free one. She was Victoria's friend, and she knew how much Victoria's situation haunted me.

"Anyways," I reached for the door and pulled it open, then looked over at Leanna. "By the way, don't touch the door handles. They deliver a nasty shock if you're not in the system." That was a lie - not the shock part, but she didn't need to know all the secrets of my base. Issy, who knew the truth, accepted the lie without complaint, though I did catch her squeezing Leanna's hand briefly.

So, a squeeze of the hand means there's more to the story? I placed the words delicately in her mind, and caught an immediate wash of annoyance tinged with hurt. My guess was wrong. Sorry, love. A sigh accompanied the poke in my side as Issy started leading Leanna down the hall, pausing every foot or so to let her look first to the left wall, which had pictures and lists of misdeeds, then at the right wall, which had touch screens with small data chips, programmed to display a timeline of the results of each person's death, each point on the timeline clickable to pull up a detailed analysis of cause and effect. On the timeline, net positives were in a bright blue and bold, net negatives in a slightly dull red and italicized, and net neutrals in standard black.

At the first few pictures. Leanna spent time clicking through the analyses, but as we continued on I noticed her spending more time reading the lists of misdeeds, then glancing quickly over the analyses. I could tell she was noticing the two things that we'd worked very hard to achieve - the lists of misdeeds got more specific, to the point of needing interactive displays of their own more and more often, including names of those harmed where possible, and the timelines showed more blue and less red.

The Wall wrapped around the top level of the underground portion of our research facility, though with only 174 pictures, there was still plenty of space before we'd have to start condensing the displays. Currently, the pictures didn't make it halfway around yet, so when we reached the end I turned us around and walked us back, pausing in the antechamber to run my hand below each of the three photos there and say their names out loud again. "Victoria Tillie a.k.a. Springtime. Richy - Richard Easton. Andros Klein." Then I opened the door and led the pair back to my office.

The low table was still sitting there, the cushions straightened but still on the ground, and three steaming mugs had been added to the table. I smiled as I settled in and took a sip of the Thai tea in front of me, humming in pleasure at the creamy, sweet taste. Issy took a sip of the mug in front of her and also smiled. Leanna looked at the mug in front of her suspiciously, so I reached over and picked it up, taking a sip without hesitation before handing it back even as I made a face.

"You like your coffee black? Really?" I asked, somewhat disgusted. I quickly cleared the taste with more of my own tea.

Issy reached over and took a sip as well, making a face. "It is your favorite bean, and roasted just the way you like it." She, too, quickly took a sip of her own drink.

"Who? How?" Leanna looked at me with deep suspicion.

The hero never broke eye contact the entire time.

I'm imagining that Satan is genuinely trying to make paradise and failing at it.

Neutral Ground

* * *

Clang.

First, it was the humans.

Clank.

They came into our mines, came into our homes. At first, they were reasonable. Firm, perhaps, but reasonable. They wanted weapons of war, swords and hammers by the plenty. Armor if we could spare it, but mostly weapons. They cared very little for defense, leaning instead into the offensive side of their inherent nature.

Clink. Clong.

As neutral parties to all sides, we insisted we could only sell them a marginal amount. No more than the seasonally-agreed upon amounts, and only implements designed for farming and agriculture. Weapons of war were against the treaties. The humans left, but only after many words of venom were thrown our way.

We did not care. We had our pride as dwarves to carry us through, and trade often did not favor the loser.

Clang.

Next came the orcs. They, too, wanted instruments of war. Where humanity wanted weaponry, they wanted armors of steel and iron. Chest plates of bronze, shields of iron and full suits of steel, anything and everything we could spare to keep their soldiers alive in the coming war. A war against, in their words, those “man-heathens that walk their sacred lands.”

Clang. Spang… Clong!

We told them the same answer. Dwarves were neutral, we could not take sides. Unless the orcs wanted their yearly allotment of farming equipment, there was little we could provide them. When they left our home, they left under much the same foreboding attitude as did the humans.

We should have heeded the warnings, but we did not.

Clonk.

The day the war came to our home is one no dwarf will ever forget. They came under pretense, hiding under the flag of negotiation to get around our guards. Once the forward guards were slaughtered, the bulk of the human army pressed forward, entering our home in force. It did not take us long to respond in kind, but betrayal lurked at our rear gates.

Spang… Clonk.

The orcs, aware of mankind’s attempt to steal our weaponry for themselves, made their own moves into our home at the same moment. They pushed past our southern gates while we were distracted by the humans at our northern front. If we’d only been forced to fight on one side, perhaps we would have had a chance. But to fight on dual fronts, both surprise attacks, and when many of our kin were not in a place to effectively fight back?

It was a massacre.

Clonk.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The sword was ready. I did not inspect the blade as I sharpened it; I already knew from the sounds of the blade as it sang while I hammered that it was forged to perfection. My breastplate was already polished to a high sheen, ready to show the face of terror reflected on both orc and human alike. All that was left was to finish the edge of the sword.

My kind was now scattered to the four winds, left to our own devices while humanity and orc kind fought over our scraps. I would be surprised if even a quarter of us remained alive. But, as they would soon find out, they had made one critical mistake.

They’d left me alive. I would show them the error of this judgment and bring justice for my people – using the weaponry that humanity so desperately wanted forged, and the armor that the orcs wanted for their own.

One soul, and one corpse, at a time.

I’m hearing the Deadpool theme song in my head. And the mage wouldn’t even know who Wade Wilson was.

Dreadnoughts are piloted by mortally wounded Space Marines, essentially it's a life support pod in a big walker think tank big.

The smallest Titan is a Warhound - think three story house. Titan pilots are also (exceptional) baseline humans that have augments.

Part 3 please?

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]

“What do you mean the bellboy just said no?!” An aggravated damned soul yelled over the phone to the imp receptionist.

“Look sir, we have a strong employees first policy here and-“ The surprisingly tired imp plainly replied.

“Oh bullshit! I’m literally at the top floor of this shoddy hotel! If it’s anyone who needs service it should be me!” The damned soul yelled even louder.

“Sir there’s no need to-“ The imp attempted to calmly answer.

“You know what, I wanna talk to your boss!”

Behind the phone the imp’s face grew into a twisted smile. They could not wait to not have to get any more calls from this prick anymore! The imp cleared its throat and put on the tired voice once again and responded.

“It’s likely gonna take a while because the boss is a busy man but I’ll gladly put you in line.”

“Wait! Where the hell am I in the waiting list?” The still agitated soul impatiently asked.

“Let me see… You are at…” The imp responded while holding onto the ‘t’ to prolong the anticipation.

“Ah, There you are! You’re going to be on the 789th spot in the waiting list! That’ll likely be an hour or two of waiting. Welp, bye-bye now!” The imp quickly revealed not letting the angry soul interfere.

“Wha-? Hey!” The furious soul yelled at the old landline phone, only getting low quality hold music in return.

The soul simply groaned and put the phone on speaker so he could hear when he was taken off hold. He was not going to be waiting in customer support hell again.

Rubbing his temple the soul moved over to the silently humming fridge and opened the door.

“Oh fuck you too.” He sighed. All of the beer he liked was out and that bellboy had his damn restock. There was a single glass bottle the soul had for emergencies only (emergencies like now)

“Fuckin’ A… Am I really gonna do this?” He asked to no one. Cautiously he raised the lip of the bottle to his mouth and

The flushing of the bile down the toilet bowl gave the soul a stark reminder to why he never drank any hard liquor.

While still hunched over the toilet, the hold music constantly mocking him, the damned soul heard a new sound hit his ears. But where was it coming from?

Was it in the kitchen? No it only got quieter and was replaced with the humming of the refrigerator.

Maybe the TV was on? But that couldn’t be possible, it had been broken for a while now. The hotel said it was something about rats chewing through wires and they’d be going around room to room fixing them before next year. They said that in 2021.

Could it be the lounge chair? That old chair always did make a squeaking noise when the toilet was flushed. Or was that the old table he got rid-

That’s when it was finally clear where it was coming from. It was coming through the wall! Specifically, the only other ‘luxury suite’ on this floor.

It was hard to exactly figure out what the sound was, it was only when a loud moan leaked through the wall was it clear what had cause the squeaking.

“Great. Just great.” The soul sighed. This asshole was always doing something to piss him off when he was dealing with stressful shit. Maybe the liquor wasn’t the worst thing in the glorified Saw trap.

The soul slouched into the lounge chair and thought of why he’d even said anything. Maybe he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and let The Devil choose his torture for him. Or maybe he just needed a nap.

The tired soul let the hold music fill his ears with corporate lullabies. He let his eyes close and imagine punching the asshole on the other side of the wall straight in the nuts. He let his body finally surrender to the liquor’s effects on his energy, and-

“Mr. Jackson Marr are you there?” A deep, harsh but kind voice called out through the terrible speakers on the landline’s body.

“Y-Yes! Th-That’s me!” The soul scurried to the phone making sure every word he said was heard.

“The receptionist told me you wanted to file a complaint, am I correct?” The voice, while still imposing, kindly asked.

“T-That’s correct sir.” The damned soul, Jackson, nervously answered. The voice on the other side of the phone sounded worryingly familiar.

“Well, normally I would gladly listen to any complaint or comment an occupant has.” The voice, now less considerate, continued.

The damned soul felt a chill run up his spine. But not for the same reason as before. Now it was because it sounded like the voice was right behind him. The voice was too high quality. It didn’t sound like he was speaking through an outdated piece of tech. Now hearing the voice more clearly it became obvious who the boss was.

“But for you Jacky…” The Devil sneered. “You don’t get to complain about your level of luxury.”

Just as quickly The Devil spoke Jackson’s old name was the beeping of a dead line rung through the room.

The expired liquor looked even more enticing than before.

Most can’t handle truth, especially when it comes to the world. You could paint the most photorealistic portrait to face the earth, yet a painting of a white line on a black background could be seen as more valuable. Same with magic. No shade to those who actually put effort and showmanship into their magic, but if the equivalent to dipping my hand into paint then slapping a canvas gets the job done for me, then I’m going to continue doing that. It does get boring though NGL, I can just shout out BORT and it does anything I desire.

Latest update the other day 12-16 weeks

I thought those were Dreadnoughts, not Titans?

[removed]

Really awesome story dude. I like that you glossed over the crueler aspect of hell, since we already know it's there, and instead gave us a tiered description with as much balance as possible in your universe. And the "willingly feeling unfulfilled to gain fulfillment" is just the cherry on top

From what I recall, there was a lot of stoning in the Bible.

"For a practical joke, im going to take this apple without paying!"

achievement unlocked: Immortality