Authors note at the end of the chapter!
I'm sitting in a white room, a black mirror on the wall to my left. I don't remember much, fragments really. I don't even know my own name. There's a man, African American, tall. He's standing opposite the mirror looking at me. I can't tell much about him really, mostly because there's not much to tell.
He walks over, a stern posture to his walk, it's kind of making me nervous. he slams both of his palms abruptly on the pristine metal desk in front of me, a loud pang coming from it.
"Who are you?" He sternly asks, his affirmative tone causing me to sweat, I don't even know who I am.
"I... I don't know." I say, stuttering the words out. He had been asking questions all day and I can't answer much. I don't know why but I don't remember anything really.
"How can you not know? Were you never given a name?" He asks, backing away from the table.
"N... I... I don't believe I was." Then it hit me, I do have a name. "Araceli... I think my name is Araceli."
He looks at me, surprised, "So you're claiming that you're the daughter of Satan?"
I look at him. Satan? I ponder this name. I recognize it. "I... I think I know the name... But to go as far as to say he's my dad... I don't think I'd say that." I chuckle a little.
His eyes narrow at me, "do you think this is some kind of joke? Do you know what it's like out there? The man you're claiming to be your father is slaughtering millions."
I hesitate. Millions? "I'm sorry I don't understand... I..."
"It's the goddamn apocalypse out there kid, get with the picture. Now tell me who you really are." He shouts, punching the table, leaving quite a big dent in it.
"I don't know!" I cry out, his look softens.
"Look, kid, I'll let you off easy, if you are really who you claim you are, you could be a major asset." He retreats from the table, "What else can I fill you in on?"
"Who am I claiming to be?" I ask, a little more sure of myself now.
He turns, "You're claiming to be the daughter of the evilest son of a bitch there is." He turns back around "The devil himself."
"But I-" He interrupts me
"That name you gave me, Araceli. Araceli is the daughter of Satan who abandoned his side 1 year ago." He recites, almost as though he can picture every moment he's speaking of.
"But how? How can I be the daughter of Satan? I don't even remember anything... And shouldn't I... shouldn't I have powers?" I question.
"Yes," he started, "Yes you should. But we don't know what you're capable of... Your brother, Azreal, he gained power over imps and devils. The more demonic powers. But from all our reports, we never knew what your powers were. No one could touch you. Some even claimed you were more powerful than the man himself." He looks at me, curiously.
I ponder for a while, a long while, thinking about what he said. "If I truly am that strong how... How could my brother defeat me?"
"We don't know." He responds coyly, looking as though he has a plan, "But we here at the U.S. Military do have a plan to make sure that doesn't happen again."
An empty black scape stands before me. Only I stand there. Free to let my thoughts and feelings loose.
"Its been three months. Three months since I woke up in that strange room. I'm in some private military camp. It's supposed to be designed to push me. And the only sign of my powers are my stupid wings. No hellfire, no hell hounds. Nothing. But they're hoping soon enough I'll show something of use."
I shake away my thoughts, the empty spot in my mind I was present in fading away. My palms are warm and clammy, burning in agony as I reach from bar to bar. I don't want to eat dirt again. It tastes awful.
The ground below me, a mixture of gravel and mud. My feet dangle about 7 feet off the ground. white trainers gracing my feet, the grime almost making them brown.
"Move your pathetic ass 17!" I reach for the next bar, dismounting my other arm and swinging myself to the next bar.
As I reach the final bar the burning pain in my hands gets worse. When I touch the cold metal I scream out as my hand quivers to reach it. Taking a better look I notice the bar it's got etchings carved into it. Damned demon traps. They're small circles with triangles in them, a faint blue light twinkling off the metal.
I reach again, this time with more vigor as I grasp it through the pain, my tight black tank top starting to rip. Using only my right hand I swing myself from this bar to a small wooden plateau. Collapsing onto the teek flooring.
"You call that a run maggot! You disgust me. You're being a pansy and slow while Hell itself is killing the entire world. Pathetic!" His loud powerful voice echoes in my mind. Pathetic... Slow... Hell...
"You will not talk to the princess of hell that way mortal scum!" I pull myself up off the ground, a second wind taking over.
"You're the princess of nothing! You're a puppet for Satan!" I grit my teeth and growl. This man is about a foot taller than me and at least 50Lbs heavier. I'll have to be faster and smarter then.
"I'm..." I tighten my hands into fists as a searing pain burns my back. He doesn't faulter, looking me in the eye.
"The princess..." I slowly tread towards him. My black shirt begins burning, the entire thing becoming engulfed in a pure red hot flame.
He puts his hands up in a boxing stance as I draw my wings. They emerge from my back. The flesh curdling as though it were a boiling pot.
I dash forward using my knee to strike him in the groin with enough speed and power to shatter his pelvis. "Of darkness!" My knee lowers as he falls over, his body shaking and spasming as he screams.
I look down at him and my wings disappear. The red haze of anger leaving my mind. "My... My body did this?" I let out in shock. Maybe I really am evil. "Somebody get a medic! Help! Someone!" I go down and look at him, his large body helpless as it spasms.
I sit shirtless, exactly where I had my outburst. A small droplet of water trickles down my abdomen, merging with the salty sweat drops. I look where his helpless body laid spasming.
I drop my fist to the ground. "Why... Why couldn't I control... I can't..." Thoughts rush through my mind, a million miles per second. As I lay helpless a shadow casts over me, allowing a glimmer of hope, someone to confide to? I hope as I peer up, sullied aviators staring back at me. Perched upon the African American mans face. The same man I met not too long ago, but long enough for me not to recall his name.
"What are you doing solider?" He speaks in an authoritative tone, not different from how everyone speaks to me here. I lower my head back to the ground. I'm no solider, I'm nothing.
As though I spoke out loud the man coldly responds, "what you showed was true power, so maybe you're just a weapon to be used. But we dont treat people like weapons here, solider." I smile at his kind comment, the words picking up my spirits. "Now, we need to teach you how to control your powers, at this rate you'll be a sub par meat shield." I nod in response, standing up to face him.
"Sir, yes sir!" I shout, putting my hand to my forehead to salute him. "I am ready for anything that will come my way." He smirks devilishly,
"Good."
AN: Hey guys a lot of fun re-uploading to a new group of readers. This is by far my best written story but all of my other stories are just as amazing and deserve a read. Please check them out
