With the pleasantries out of the way, the six operatives lapsed into silence.  Though Otsune, who served as the team's active captain, faded away into invisibility, she did not need to tell the others their destination.  No city, no matter its reputation for the paranormal, naturally played host to such malignant fog.  Following the path taken by the cloud, despite the obvious danger, stood as an obvious choice.  Only the remarkable speed at which the haze swept through the city prevented the warriors of humanity from following on its proverbial heels, and by the time the six arrived at Memorial Park, only smoky traces of their nebulous quarry remained.  Grimly wordless, the squad split up to examine the park, and in very short order reconvened at the base of the founder's statue.  An invisible hand elevated the fountain grate, and one after another the six began their descent.

Beyond the uniform spread of light trickling through the replaced grate lay mostly darkness.  Bullion merely clicked his tongue as he activated his goggles, but his comrades held no such ability.  In the shadows, Otsune flickered back into sight, no longer needed her light-warping particles now that the darkness would hide her.  On her head, the electronic likeness of a flower glowed softly, its warm light barely scratching the gloom.  Souta, meanwhile, willed the magic sewn into his clothing to activate.  His own luminescence, teal in color, provided scant reprieve from the darkness.  The only other member of the team to be able to cope with the dark conditions, Babyfingers, turned on his flashlight last, thereby saving Ell and Atlas from resigning themselves to squinting.  Immediately Otsune disappeared, the click of her augmented legs on the floor the only indicator of her departure, and without any time to lose the other operatives hurried after her.

For nearly half an hour, the six navigated brusquely through a labyrinthine series of tunnels and rooms.  None of it appeared overtly supernatural in nature.  Souta counted four basements, one horrifically unpleasant sewer, and more than a dozen different staircases.  Frequently he thought he heard the sounds of people behind walls or locked doors, but the group never paused to find out.  Only after exiting the sprawling, disused underground floor of a parking garage did the operatives find themselves in a subway system.  In mere moments they discerned, by the state of the track, the walls, and a nearby access hatch, that this particular subway's abandonment probably predated that of the parking garage's.  This place, however, felt different.  As best as Souta could describe it, the rooms through which he passed over the course of the last thirty-odd minutes struck him as empty.  Here, however, the hairs on the back of his neck rose at a new sensation: ambiguity.  Be it smell, sound, sight, or touch, none of his senses could confirm or deny anything in either direction.  Only a lunatic did not fear demons, but it was not this fear that plagued him: it was the fear of the unknown.  When Otsune elected to go left based on the stronger negative feeling emanating from that direction, and weaved in and out of vision beneath the malfunctioning, yellow-orange, overhead lights, Souta generously allowed Atlas to lead the way.

Only a moment later, the shadows came alive.  For a split second the darkness itself seemed to writhe; then came the lance.  A dimly-glowing, ember-colored spear shot out from the darkness and lodged itself firmly in Atlas' pauldron.  Ell and Souta hopped aside as another pair of deadly lances flew toward them.  After narrowly missing, the lances retracted into the dark, and the shapes of three creatures became visible.  They looked like black-cloaked ghosts, albeit with spindly red arms, a malformed head, and crystal-blue compound eyes.  [color=teal]”Mephistos,”[/color] Souta mumbled, as if the others needed his diagnosis.  While capable of killing ordinary humans instantly with their extendable fingers, they occupied a relatively low rung on the demonic ladder.  What worried Souta was how many there might be—though this worry did not prevent him from taking action.

In his hand, Maelstrom materialized.  He took only a moment to aim before firing at the nearest Mephisto, during which Atlas charged.  In a shower of sapphire-blue sparks the fused fireblast blew apart the demon's shadowy cloak, leaving the flailing red scorpion beneath.  Stooping, Atlas grabbed it by the head before mashing it into the wall, over and over again.  In the meantime, Bullion opened fire, his Devil Arm lambasting the tunnel with its muzzle-flashes.  Into the second Mephisto the bullets sank, dealing no damage but preventing it from accurately aiming its finger to ventilate the throat of Ell, who now advanced toward it.  The Mephisto attempted to swipe her, but her mace rammed into its body and smashed it into the floor, dispelling the cloak.  Ell made no movement, patiently waiting the one second before her weapon activated, sending a shockwave of sound through the demon that turned most of it into pulp.  By the time Ell picked her mace back up, the last Mephisto lay frozen in a crust of ice pinned to the ceiling, courtesy of Babyfingers.  Very casually the operatives passed beneath it, with Souta reaching up to poke it about where its nose ought to be, and Otsune brought up the rear.  Wasting little time, she turned partially around and launched from her left helix launcher a single rocket that stuck into the ice.  Then she disappeared, allowing the Mephisto just enough time to grow bored before it violently exploded.

The ice shattered, and with it went the cloak of shadows.  Yet the Mephisto itself flopped on the floor, not terribly wounded, until the protective cloak regenerated.  With this done, it floated after the group, and the tunnel was quiet once more.

[center]-=-=-[/center]

Through the Stygian dark of the web of abandoned tunnels meandered clusters of demons, all singlemindedly focused on their task.  While a few rogue squads of the more brainless Hideous roamed on their own, those that obeyed their master's commands traveled in either groups of four and two Mephistos, or teams of three and one Hatred to lead them.  Upon the neglected concrete their metallic feet clinked like treasure beneath the boots of dragon-hoard robber, but a mortal enamored by the sound of precious metals would find only a swift route to hell, one lined with draconian teeth and wicked blades.  Minions loped around haphazardly, ignored by their less bestial comrades.  Nevertheless, the dogs of the pit would not hesitate to attack non-demon intruders en masse, making these winding corridors a dangerous guessing game at best and a messy demise at worst.  

Ultimately, however, the efforts of the searchers did not concern Gomory overmuch.  At first the demoness had been as lost as any of them, even as she cut an imposing figure as she strode, expressionless, flanked on either side by a devilishly stylish Faust.  It did not take long, after she began to truly look, for the darkness to give up its own answers.  While Gomory brought shadows with her, in the form of the ethereal garb of Mephisto and Faust, she found shadows of an entirely different sort lurking with utmost subtlety where no shadow should have been.  Only the most fleeting glimpses availed her, for they vanished so quickly as to convince most anyone of being nothing more than a trick of the eye, but she recognized them for something unnatural.  They appeared like smears of dribbled black paint on the floor or walls, and at the top of these smears faintly glimmered single, green-tinged slit eyes.  No demon or angel could boast such an eye—that was how Gomory knew she was close.

She did not expect to stumble upon on an old friend.  After pushing open a door, she discovered an octagonal room lined with chalk runes, with an altar at the center.  Upon the alter, which depicted chains in golden chalk that gleamed even after unknown ages out of the light, lay a still but no less repulsive shape.  Five-legged it was, with each cloven hood radiating outward from a single circular body like a grotesque wheel, and at the center of the wheel resided the face of a four-eyed lion.  At first, she assumed it to be dead, and advanced toward it with the Fausts gliding behind her.  She drew abreast with the monster, recognized it, and gave a short, dry laugh.  [color=E0115F]”If it isn't the noble professor.”[/color]

In reply, the body jerked to life, and the lion snarled at the woman that leaned over it.  When a voice issued from its fanged maw, though, a deep and cultured voice rent the air.  “Who are you, succubus?  I know you not.”

Gomory blinked and sighed, bored.  [color=E0115F]”Not a succubus, though I am flattered.  You wouldn't know me; I'm rather new to the business.  I know you though, Buer.  Read almost all of your work on natural and moral philosophy.  Very insightful.  Now that I know that you were the demon who made a contract with Anatole, however, your scholarly reputation seems tarnished, no?”[/color]  She reached out toward the golden chalk, but did not dare to pass her hand over it.  [color=E0115F]”And you got captured with mortal witchcraft?”[/color]

Every eye rolled at once, and a look oddly reminiscent of remorse flitted across the feline features.  “Alas.  I had so wanted to leave the books behind and attempt conventional demonic activities.  I got excited over the prospect of the contract, and I suspect Anatole took me for the amateur I was.  My part of the contract was to meet him here and give him some of my power in exchange for his soul.  Unfortunately, he and a lady friend trapped me here in this circle.  For a time, I was like a living battery of occult power for him.  Now, however, I am merely trapped.  Perhaps you can set me free?”

When Gomory heard this, she sneered.  [color=E0115F]”What a disgrace.”[/color]  Unmoved by the pitiable demon, she sauntered around the altar and toward the opposite door.  Her Fausts followed suit, billowing across the floor like brides on the way to the altar, and Buer pleaded and protested all the while.  The door slammed shut, and the chamber returned to silence.  Only a few black streaks, peeking from the corners, continued to move, and even then only for a little while.

The steps beyond the door led down.  Gomory could feel it: there was not much farther to go.