The Plan
Pain. Pain is something everyone feels. The physical pain of torn flesh, the burning of fire or the breaking of bones. The emotional kind, leaving scars deeper than the sharpest grenade fragment. But beyond that, there is another kind—the pain felt for someone else.
In this case, it appears under different conditions. Maybe your heart aches for someone close to you, making even their slightest pain feel ten times worse for you. But there is another version—one that pierces you even when the person in front of you is just a stranger. When their suffering is so deep, so undeniable, that you can’t ignore it—you can’t help but feel it.
That old, long-forgotten feeling hit Angel the moment he saw the soldier’s battered, barely alive body. And along with that pain came something else—primal fear. The fear of what "people" are capable of to satisfy their twisted desires.
When Val and Vox left the room, Angel stood there for almost a minute, staring at the exit with an unblinking gaze. A flood of questions swirled in his mind, from how the hell this soldier ended up in Vee's claws to how he was even still alive. Angel had seen Vox’s work before—what was worse, he had witnessed it firsthand. But this time... this time was different. The one in chains wasn’t some demon who would just be reborn after death—it was a living human, whose time to burn in the pit had not yet come.
Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, Angel hesitantly stepped closer to the man hanging in chains. The soldier was unconscious, his head lowered, but the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest meant he was still breathing.
"Hey, you still alive?" Angel asked, stepping in and giving his shoulder a light poke.
Suddenly, the soldier jerked violently, trying to lash out, but the chains stopped him mid-motion. Their eyes met, and Angel saw nothing but raw, blinding, savage rage in his gaze.
A chill ran down Angel’s spine. Spider took an instinctive step back, his hands trembling slightly, like prey before a predator. But he couldn’t blame the guy, not under these circumstances.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, I’m not gonna hurt you!" Angel tried to reassure him, but his words had no effect. Obviously, after everything the soldier had been through, simple words wouldn’t be enough.
Think, think, think—what the hell do I do?
"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..." Angel muttered under his breath, pacing in circles around the room. He needed a plan, and fast. The soldier had, at best, two days—the time Angel had managed to negotiate with Val. If he didn’t figure something out by then, the man would never get out of here.
Angel himself wasn’t sure why he felt such an overwhelming need to help. Maybe it was sudden empathy, maybe something else. But most likely, it was a feeling he wouldn’t be able to admit to himself for a long time—after everything he had been through with Val and his gang, he simply couldn’t let someone else suffer the same hell. Especially if he had the power to stop it.
But he couldn’t do it alone.
Then, something clicked in his mind.
After making sure the soldier wasn’t in immediate danger, Angel turned and quickly left the room. Securing the door behind him, he hurried down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Of all the damn times for my conscience to wake up, why now?" he muttered under his breath.
He was terrified of what Val would do if he found out about this plan. But even so, he pressed the elevator button, and when the doors opened, he stepped inside, heading straight for the ground floor. Ignoring the administrator, who was busy with something else, Angel walked out of the building as if nothing had happened. Then, shedding his usual mask of shining satisfaction, he bolted toward the only place where he could find help—the hotel.
The hotel was unusually dull. No assaults, no defenses, none of the captain’s usual hand-picked missions.
In times like these, Alex, the unit's special driver also known as Howler, preferred to find a quiet spot, reading a newspaper and sipping his favorite drink—a mix of coffee and cognac in roughly equal proportions. Yeah… despite all the squad’s strict rules, the Captain had never managed to break Howler’s habit of drinking. Then again, habits like that didn’t come out of nowhere, and breaking them meant digging deep into their roots—something soldiers never had the luxury of time for.
Since Alex had no idea where to get coffee in this hotel—and didn’t feel like asking around—he simply grabbed his flask and made himself comfortable on a couch near the main entrance, doubling as an unofficial watchman. After shifting positions a few times, he finally settled in—one leg crossed over the other, an extra pillow tucked behind his back. With a satisfied hum, he unfolded the local newspaper. A mix of detective fiction and a strong drink was the perfect way for this not-so-young but not-yet-midlife-crisis-ridden soldier to enjoy his downtime.
It could’ve lasted forever—cognac in his flask, a detective novel about the demons of Goetia among the humans during the two world wars... But suddenly, the door slammed open, and in stormed a familiar white spider-like figure. His abrupt entrance didn’t startle Howler—he was too relaxed for that—but the fact that someone dared interrupt his peace definitely annoyed him.
"Where’s your boss?" Angel asked, catching his breath.
Howler finally lifted his gaze from the book, gave him a slow once-over, debated whether to answer, then shrugged and said, "Library."
The spider gave a short nod and hurried off in that direction.
Good.
At least he was spared from the usual barrage of sexual jokes from that damn prostitute.
God help the Captain…
Lucas wandered aimlessly through the hotel’s corridors, trying to fend off boredom.
With no assignments and the captain forbidding them from retreating to their rooms—just in case they had to go out on another search mission—there was absolutely nothing to do.
Of course, finding Levon was their top priority, but damn, was this dull…
They had to conserve fuel. Supplies were running dangerously low.
Lucas left the hallway and headed toward the stairs, wondering where to go next, when he spotted Angel making a beeline for him.
"Oh, great…" Lucas muttered.
Yeah, he was the one who suffered the most from the spider’s advances. Sometimes, he even wondered if the bastard was joking or actually serious. Maybe he was cursed—a magnet for trolling and bad jokes.
Sure, he could just shoot him, but since they were all stuck in the same hotel, he had to put up with the nuisance.
But to his surprise and relief, Angel just walked past him, heading straight up the stairs.
Step left, step right — that was Connor’s entire route for the past 15 minutes. While all the soldiers were at the hotel’s ground floor, Shade had been given a special order — guard the library door while the Captain and Ares searched for information about Hell. Of course, the likelihood of a local disturbing the Captain, or them being attacked, was extremely low, but caution was never a bad thing. And just when Connor was sure that no one would disrupt his watch, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The Captain had been working at a sturdy, burgundy-red wooden desk for quite some time (probably made from some kind of hellish oak), sitting in the most uncomfortable office chair imaginable. Considering they were in Hell, it wasn’t surprising that even the furniture caused suffering.
"Ares, what did you find?" the Captain asked the soldier.
"Nothing worth paying attention to," the soldier replied. "The info in these damn papers just repeats itself like a goddamn mantra."
"Got it..." the Captain grumbled discontentedly. "Alright, let me know if you find anything useful."
The Captain continued surfing hellnet in search of valuable information. As mentioned, the local internet wasn’t much different from Earth’s, except the site names and content made it immediately clear they were at the bottom of existence. Assuming Hell was even that...
Scrolling through the sites, he stumbled upon one clearly belonging to the local trio of authorities — VVV. Why? Well, the site's name, voxtech.hell, spoke for itself. Upon entering, the first line was an ad for the so-called Day of Extermination, along with a brief description. Scrolling further down, the Captain didn’t know how to react — on one hand, it was pure hell, and on the other — holy shit, it was hilarious.
"Want to be the first to know when the next Day of Extermination starts? Get a premium subscription and track the countdown down to the second!"
Hell really was the birthplace of premium subscriptions.
Suddenly, Ares stood up and quickly approached the monitor.
"Captain... that's the symbol!" the soldier exclaimed, pointing to a large Voxtech icon.
"That symbol was on the vehicles that chased us!"
The Captain barely had time to react when noise erupted behind the door, and Angel Dust burst into the room. The Captain reached for his holster, already flipping the safety off his Beretta, when the spider-like figure spoke:
"I know where your soldier is!"
Painful seconds of silence followed. The Captain carefully weighed the short phrase Angel had blurted out. Where did he get this information? Who gave it to him? And if he found out himself, how was he involved?
"Where?!" the Captain asked sharply, raising an eyebrow.
"In the VVV tower, on the tech floor. Vox and Val captured him — I don’t know how or why, but he’s there. You have, at best, two days to get him out. Otherwise... he’ll never leave Hell."
"How do you know this?!" the Captain pressed on. Angel knowing such details was beyond strange.
"I... work for Val, Vox’s partner. They called me over, and I found your soldier. He’s in bad shape — you better hurry."
The Captain pondered, evaluating the situation. On the one hand, they needed to act fast. On the other, could they really trust this demon? But there was no time to deliberate.
"Why?" the Captain asked bluntly.
Angel hesitated, then, in an unusually quiet manner, barely above a whisper, said:
"I’ve seen what happens to those... who couldn’t escape them."
That answer was enough for the Captain.
Edward sat on the kitchen couch in a half-asleep state. The last few outings had completely drained the soldier, and the chronic sleep deprivation was taking its toll. Sure, he had gotten used to it over the years of military service, but the body doesn’t lie — exhaustion always wins. However, the Captain’s voice crackling through the radio shattered the haze of fatigue.
"Edward, Miguel, Harper — to HQ, immediately."
"Roger that!" the sergeant barked into the radio, jumping up from the couch.
What could be so important...?
He left the living room and headed toward the stairs, where Father Miguel was already standing.
Approaching, the sergeant asked, "What do you think happened?"
"They probably found some intel," the priest replied, heading toward the makeshift HQ.
Edward followed. When they entered the room, the Captain was already waiting for them. Surprisingly, he wasn’t alone — standing next to him was none other than Angel Dust, the famous porn-star and addicted son of a bitch.
"Sir, what is HE doing here?!" the sergeant blurted out.
At that very moment, Harper walked in, equally shocked to see the spider in the briefing room.
"Perfect timing, SP1-7. We’ve located SP2-9," the Captain announced.
The trio's eyes widened, but they didn’t interrupt.
"He’s been captured by an organization known here as the VVV Triumvirate. We don’t know what the demons want from him, but we can’t waste time — we need to organize a rescue op immediately. Thanks to our informant," he gestured at Angel, "we have the building’s schematics, so navigating inside will be straightforward. However, we know little about the security, and the informant’s knowledge is limited, so we’ll first head out in a small recon group. Ward, you’re in charge here. Valkyrie — with me. Halo, help Ward and start prepping the gear."
"Yes, sir!" the soldiers answered in unison.
The Captain marched quickly down the corridor, Harper following right behind him, step to step. They emerged into the lobby, where Jason and Connor were already waiting, fully geared up.
"Let’s go, guys. Into the vehicle. We need to scout the area before the operation."
The soldiers nodded silently and headed toward their MRAP. Harper took the driver’s seat, Jason and Connor settled in the back, while the Captain sat in the front passenger seat.
Once again, the engine of the heavy armored vehicle roared to life, cutting through the dead silence of Hell’s night. The soldiers began their journey along war-torn roads, cracked and broken by time and endless battles. They kept to the outskirts of the city, avoiding unnecessary attention — few dared to venture here, and the roads were too trashed for regular vehicles. But an MRAP wasn’t just any vehicle. The headlights remained off; the powerful floodlights mounted on the armored beast would be far too conspicuous. Instead, dim parking lights gently pierced the dense darkness, thin beams slicing through the shadows.
The massive MRAP steadily approached its destination — the entertainment district, with the VVV tower at its center.
A little over half a mile before the destination, the Captain ordered Harper to stop.
"We go on foot from here," he said.
The heavy vehicle gradually slowed to a halt on the side of the road. The soldiers grabbed their gear and climbed out one by one. Harper drove the MRAP into a nondescript alley, turned off the engine, set a control lock, and secured the doors before heading toward the team.
This grim, hellish night was eerily quiet. No locals trying to murder each other, no stray beasts lurking to tear your throat out. Only the faint hum of the wind accompanied the steady clomp of heavy army boots against decaying asphalt. After some time, they finally caught sight of the VVV tower in the distance.
The Captain scanned the area, and his trained eye immediately picked out a tall building — a perfect vantage point for observing the surrounding area. He also spotted a fire escape, which would let them climb to the roof unseen, without entering the structure.
"Harper, with me. We’re heading to the roof. Jason, Connor, watch our six. If you see any "company", report immediately," the Captain ordered.
The soldiers nodded and split off to their assigned posts. Harper followed the Captain, who was already climbing the surprisingly cold metal rungs of the fire escape. The Captain was a big man, and the gear he carried was far from light, so every movement made the structure groan. But whoever built this thing had done a damn good job — the metal held firm, despite the building’s obvious age.
When they finally reached the top, the Captain gestured for Harper to crouch. No one was watching them — at least in theory — but extra caution during stealth ops never hurt. The roof, unlike the sturdy fire escape, was in rough shape. Cracks spiderwebbed through the old roofing, and any moisture could easily seep into the exposed concrete beneath. Granted, it rarely rained in Hell, and when it did, the rain was acid, but the lack of maintenance drastically shortened the building’s lifespan.
As she took it all in, Harper caught herself wondering what Hell’s version of a HOA looked like...
When they reached the edge of the roof, they had a clear view of the tower and its surrounding territory. Whoever had designed the building had done so with security in mind. A sturdy fence wrapped around the perimeter, topped with razor wire — and the Captain was willing to bet it was electrified.
He pulled out his binoculars to get a closer look. Sure enough, electrical cables ran to the wire. Beyond that, floodlights dotted the area, making a stealthy infiltration difficult. Surveillance cameras added to the challenge, mounted lower on the poles to catch anything the floodlights might miss.
Damn. This mission was looking more impossible by the minute — but failure wasn’t an option.
The Captain continued scanning the area, and finally, something caught his eye — a transformer station, placed conveniently close to the fence. The problem? It was under heavy surveillance, with additional cameras and armed guards posted nearby. The guards would spot intruders immediately. Unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately — humans stood out starkly from demons, both visually and physiologically.
They’d need to figure this out later...
The Captain didn’t have time to finish his thought before Harper broke his concentration.
"Captain, look at the garages!" she whispered.
He shifted his gaze toward the partially open hangar doors on the tower’s first floor. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. Amid a sea of identical vehicles, all marked with a local TV demon’s logo, stood a painfully familiar armored vehicle.
"Hellhound-3," the Captain whispered.
The first two vehicles had stayed with the team. The fourth had been lost in battle. Now, finally, they knew where the third had gone. Levon must have been pursued, just like they had — but unlike them, he hadn’t escaped. The theory checked out: the rearview mirror on the right door was missing, and the driver’s side window was cracked, clearly from gunfire.
They stayed put for another hour, carefully observing the guards’ patrol patterns. Harper diligently sketched out a rough schedule — shift changes, the highest concentration of guards, and key locations: the main gate, the hangar, the transformer station, and the fence section nearest to the garage.
Once they’d gathered enough intel, Harper exhaled quietly and slid her pencil into her chest pocket. The Captain noticed and slowly crawled away from the roof’s edge.
"We’re packing up," he said quietly.
The way back down was the same — the creak of the ladder, and the quiet echo of boots against broken asphalt. As expected, no one noticed them. The click of closing doors, the turn of the ignition, and the MRAP’s thunderous engine roared to life once again.
The recon team returned to the hotel quickly. The Captain stretched his legs after stepping out of the vehicle, then made his way to their makeshift command center. He had a lot to think about.
How the hell were they going to get into that fortress?
How would they disable the security?
And, most terrifying of all — how would they get back out?
It was obvious there was no way they could sneak in. And blending in with the locals? Impossible. Humans stuck out like a sore thumb in Hell, and the Captain was sure the guards had orders to watch for anything out of place.
Fine. They’d figure something out.
The perimeter security was the bigger problem. The floodlights and cameras made a direct approach impossible. That meant they needed to deal with the power source — the transformer station.
The challenge? Getting to it.
Reaching the station unnoticed would be borderline impossible. Even worse, the station itself was massive and reinforced. The last RPG round they had might not even be enough to knock it out.
So now, the Captain had two new tasks:
One — figure out how to destroy the transformer station.
Two — find some serious explosives.
The Captain reached for his radio, hesitated for a moment, then pressed the button.
"David, Ares, Lewis — to the command center. Now."
A minute earlier:
David and Ares were lounging by the fireplace, playing cards, while Lewis slept soundly on the couch, curled up in comfort.
"Ha! I win again!" Ares laughed triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear. David let out a frustrated growl but reluctantly fished a crumpled one-dollar bill from his pocket.
"Try not to choke on the matzo," Ares smirked with a shit-eating grin as he snatched the bill from David’s hand.
"You're such an ass..." David muttered, rubbing his face and rolling his eyes.
The only thing that saved him from enduring more of this "wonderful" gathering was the crackle of the radio and the Captain’s voice cutting through the room.
"You called, Cap?" Ares asked as he stepped into the command center.
"That’s right," the Captain replied. "I need more details about the demon you ran into while you were on the run."
"Which one, exactly? There were a lot..." David said, rubbing the back of his neck. "That snake guy and his eggs alone were enough of a nightmare." Lewis snorted in the background, barely holding back a laugh.
"I’m talking about the demon you idiots got drunk with at the bar," the Captain said calmly.
"Oh, her?" Ares rubbed his chin, lost in thought. "Total maniac. Haven’t met anyone that unhinged since boot camp."
"I care about the bombs. Am I right in understanding that this demon is an explosives expert?"
"Affirmative, sir. I saw the aftermath of her 'work' firsthand," Lewis said, a slight shiver running down his spine. How the hell had he survived that night...
"Got it," the Captain said, pausing for a moment as he mulled it over. Once again, he was gambling everything by relying on the locals.
"I need you to track her down and get the most powerful explosives she can make. Without them, there’s no way we’re getting Levon out of that place. The other issue is placement. We stand out way too much to sneak it in or cause a distraction ourselves..."
Before he could finish the thought, the faint sound of a TV playing in the background shifted from static to a bizarre commercial. A strange, almost cheerful jingle began playing.
"Turn it up," the Captain ordered, and Lewis, being the closest to the remote, quickly raised the volume.
♪When you want somebody gone
And you don't wanna wait too long
Call the Immediate Murder Professionals
Hand grenade or cyanide
We'll make it look like suicide
The Immediate Murder Professionals ♪
♪ We do our job so well
Because we come straight up from Hell
We’ll kill your husband or your wife
We’ll even let you keep the knife
We're the Immediate Murder Professionals—
Kids die for free~ ♪
The room fell into complete silence.
The trio of soldiers exchanged confused, horrified glances, unsure if what they’d just heard was real. But the Captain?
He was grinning.
"Mercenaries," the Captain said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
"Hoooly fucking shiiiit," Lewis muttered, rubbing his temples. He already knew exactly where this was going.