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Forged by Hellfire

Flags: Language, Mind Control, Non-Consentual Sex, Violence

"Halt!" ordered a Consortium guard as he spotted someone running along the long, metal, airflow units towards him.
"Yeah, no," she responded before swinging a huge mallet made of solid stone at him. WHAM.
"AUUUGH!" the guard cried out as he was hurled from the bridge of ducts by the force of the blow, ribs shattered. He cartwheeled through the air a few times as he plummeted to the rocky slopes below, landed on his shoulder, snapping it like a twig, and then rolled into the water a few feet away.
Another guard, who had been boredly staring ahead as he stood on the same length of ducts, further north, looked idly to the right, and saw a tall woman with red hair approaching. Her entire body below the neck seemed to be covered in stone, black with red fire-patterns on the hands and forearms, and from the feet up to the knees. All stone, except for her shoulders, which had spiked pauldrons on them. A ragged black cape with red slash marks on it trailed behind her, as she carried a stone mallet like it weighed nothing.
"This is a restricted area!" the guard called out as he reached for his sidearm. With remarkable swiftness, the woman had already reached him by the time he finished his sentence.
"No shit," she said plainly, and then the hammer came down on his face with a sickening CRUNCH, and nothing else mattered except the pain of his broken jaw, broken nose, broken eye sockets, broken forehead... Infact, just about everything in his head was broken. He slumped to the cold metal surface of the airflow unit he was on, arms hanging limply off the side, looking like his face had exploded.
"Intruder!"
"Your mother." BAM! Another guard went flying off the side, and slammed into a Consortium Guard Captain on a length of units on a lower level, knocking both onto some crates, which splintered from their fall. Blank white eyes did not even turn to watch, but instead looked forward at all times -- looking for the next target. Two dark red stripes descended from the woman's hairline, down over her eyes, and across her cheeks, terminating in points. Her mouth was set in a scowl.
"Freeze!"
"Fuck you." KA-WHAM!
"AIIIIIEEEGGGH!" another guard screamed out as he flew straight up into the air, came back down, landing on his back, scrabbled for a hand hold as he bounced off the metal, towards the edge... And failed to find one on the smooth surface. He fell off, still screaming, all the way down, until he hit the ground.
The red-haired woman continued on, running along the airflow units, high above the ground, working her way through guard after guard, first on one level, then on the next. Occasionally she added some variety by stopping halfway across one of the levels, and leaping up or down to the one above or below. By the time she slowed down, her stone mallet, and the front of her stone skinned chest, were both dripping with blood. Pausing, Amita Rose looked off to her left, across the ocean. The sky in Sharkhead Island was a sooty gray and black most of the time. Almost constantly overcast, and the choking smoke and smog from the Cage Consortium's furnaces, trailing up into the air from numerous smoke stacks, did nothing to brighten things.
Amita sighed heavily, turned, and lowered herself to the metal surface beneath her, resting her mallet across her lap, and thought about her life thus far. It wasn't like her to be introspective, but there was only so long one could go doing nothing but busting the skulls of the Consortium before one begins looking for something new to do. She could not feel the cold of the metal through the heated stone that covered her rear and legs, but she knew it was there by other more arcane senses than simple touch. It was part of her powers. Part of who she was now.
"But I wasn't always this way," she murmured to herself. No, she had once been a completely different person. A person with no powers at all except for her mind and her education. How had this all started? It seemed like so long ago now. As always, the haziness of her life before her transformation had to be fought against through force of will. Any attempt to dredge up the memories of who she had once been was resisted by the force that empowered Amita. But she had learned the way to get the memories anyway.

She had studied at the University in Cap Au Diable, as an archaeologist. Most archaeologists of any particular renown in the Rogue Isles got their funding by working for Arachnos, digging up and identifying artifacts that might prove useful to Lord Recluse, and similar work. The rest of the archaeologists -- that's the vast majority of them -- had to find funding for research and digs and so forth wherever they could. Amita Rose worked part-time at a few different places, trying to scrounge together enough money to do what she had studied for. She wasn't willing to work for Arachnos, and they didn't want her, so she was mostly out of luck in regards to money.
And yet... And yet, Amita knew that somehow, she had to save up enough cash to head out to a volcanic island, well beyond Arachnos's range, because all the other islands nearby had been scoured for the most part, and contained nothing that Amita wanted. She had discovered through her studies that the Circle of Thorns, a cult of evil wizards, had predecessors. Most of the knowledge that the Circle possessed now was but tidbits taken from an ancient people. This same ancient people was also the source of much of the Legacy Chain's knowledge as well. It was ironic that the two forces, one using magic for evil, the other for good, both derived their powers from the same source. But Amita cared less for the irony, and more for the fame it would bring her if she could establish undeniably that this ancient people had existed, and further, could uncover relics of their civilization that had survived the ages with their powers intact.
Such finds would make her the most celebrated researcher of her time, and grant her a life of luxury without having to serve the brutal, glory-stealing savages of Arachnos. And so, bit by bit, she saved up enough to rent the equipment she needed, and have it delivered to Silt Island.

A man named Captain Petrovich was the one who owned the ship she'd be taking. She had already put aside enough cash to pay him for carrying her equipment to the island, and so when the day came for her expedition, with her heart thudding rapidly in her chest in excitement, Amita was quite upset to hear the Captain's words upon her arrival at the docks of Shark Head Isle.
"Yarr, ye only paid me ta transport yer whiligigs an' doodads t' th' island. Ye'll have t' pay me seperate t' take you there too!" Captain Petrovich had proclaimed in his idiotic pirate accent. Then he'd laughed as Amita stood there, trembling with rage. When she finally snapped and started yelling curses at him, he had said, "Now, now. Settle down there, or me ship'll leave with yer machines without ya!"
"DON'T YOU DARE!" Amita had yelled, and charged towards him, leaping onto his ship from the dock. Amita was no fighter, however, and Petrovich had plenty of experience in combat. He easily blocked Amita's blows and wrestled her to the deck. There he pinned her, with his knee against her stomach, making it hard to breath, and looked down at the struggling red-head.
"Ye needn't worry. I be more than willin' t' accept alternate forms of payment, if'n ye can't afford t' pay yer place on me ship," Petrovich had calmly informed Amita. Gradually she settled down and looked suspiciously up at the grizzled old sea captain.
"What do you want from me, then?" Amita asked. She still retained a degree of naivety, even after living so long in the Rogue Isles. It was her heritage as a native of Paragon City showing through. Even when she saw Petrovich examining her, running one hand down her smooth cheek, and looking at her large chest straining inside her blouse, she didn't get it. Then he removed his knee from her stomach, but held his hand out to stop her when she started to get up. Lowering himself to her level, Petrovich put his face close to Amita's, his salty, stinking breath washing over her face and making her recoil in disgust.
"You," was all he said. Amita's eyes widened as Petrovich pressed his lips to hers, but she didn't fight back. If this was the price she had to pay to be free of the Rogue Isles forever, then so be it. Even though she was nauseated by the act, she put her arms around Captain Petrovich, and returned his kiss with as much passion as she could muster.

Later on, in the captain's cabin, Amita was sitting up in the rumpled bed, inwardly grumbling at the soreness between her legs. Captain Petrovich was sitting at a desk in the cramped room, his scarred, old, but muscular form barely fitting in his chair. He had a gold ring before him, he was fiddling with. It looked like a wedding ring. Amita, not thinking, asked, "That belong to your wife?" Petrovich turned in surprise, as though just remembering Amita was there. The expression that had been on his face, of sorrow, and regret, prior to Amita speaking, had made the archaeologist wonder if perhaps he had lost his wife. For a moment, she felt sorry for him, despite the fact he had forced her to sleep with him. But then Petrovich shook his head and chuckled.
"Nay. Just a momento of an old friend who no longer be a part of this world." Whatever solemnity that Petrovich might have had was washed away as he gazed lasciviously upon Amita's swollen breasts, and hardened nipples, due to her not having had the time to dress after their sex. Amita glanced down and then back up, with a scowl. She would cover up but there was no point. There was nothing that Petrovich hadn't seen of her. Or groped. Or sucked on. Or fucked. She started to slide out of bed, planning to get dressed and out of that room, but the next thing she knew she was being pinned to bed on her stomach, bruised breasts mashed into the coarse sheets. Petrovich said, "I'm not quite done wit' ye yet, milady."
Then Amita Rose discovered there was one part of her that had not been violated quite yet. She cried out in pain, but did not fight back. It would be over eventually. But inwardly, her hate was burning, and she promised herself that one day, Petrovich would pay for what he had done to her.

They arrived two days later on Silt Island. It was volcanic, and had recently become active, after a long period of dormancy. The thick vegetation that sprawled across the small island's surface was uninhabited -- by humans, at least. As the muscular Captain worked with the sore redhead, the two of them managed to move her equipment off the ship, primarily by use of a winch. Amita had wondered why Petrovich didn't have a crew onboard his ship, or at least some people to help with the equipment. When she saw the aged sailor lifting a three-hundred pound communications and sensor station and then leaping from the deck to the beach as though it were no great feat, she understood why. Petrovich was tireless -- as she had discovered in bed -- and seemed to have nearly superhuman strength. But he was still human. There were limits to what he could do. Amita marked down in her mind everything she could about Petrovich, so that when it came time for her revenge, there would be no surprises.

And then came a surprise.

While Amita was busy setting up her equipment, she heard the motor starting up on the boat, and turned to see Petrovich starting to make his way away from the island. "HEY!" Amita yelled and then ran down the beach, screaming and waving her arms, even venturing out into the water. Petrovich came out onto the deck, and waved back with a smile. "Where are you going!?" Amita demanded.
"Ye payed me t' bring yer equipment and yerself t' th' island. Ye' never said anythin' about coming back!" Petrovich informed her.
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! COME BACK HERE! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE!"
"Yarr, I regret doin' this, milady. Ye' were th' greatest screw this ol' sea-dog has ever had! But I've other engagements! I'll return in a week to see how yer doin', aye?" And with that Petrovich went back to the wheel, and left Amita screaming and cursing and pleading with him until he was long out of sight.

Hours later, after Amita had calmed down somewhat, she decided that since she was here for a week, she might as well do what she came here for. After setting up her equipment away from where the water would be at high-tide, she begin trekking through the jungle. Her equipment indicated there were a number of sites that, on sensors, revealed there had once been structures. The vegetation patterns were different in these areas -- there were visible lines on the computer's map where walls had once been, leaving clearings at ground level that would have been invisible from the air.
The red-headed archaeologist investigated a few of these sites, planting flags in the ground whenever she found the foundations of buildings, to mark the walls. She was so busy with her work that she completely lost track of time. It was nearly night before she stopped to eat lunch. In the middle of her meal, there had been a rumbling all over the island, the ground shaking. Amita's heart stopped for a moment. She knew the volcano had been more active recently, which was why she wanted to get out here and salvage what she could. She didn't know when the volcano might erupt and obliterate all sign of what she was looking for. If that tremor was a sign of what was to come...
Amita got up and resumed working. There were three more rumblings over the next hour, and at one point, near the center of the island, Amita saw large rocks tumbling down from the mountainside. She would have ignored this, except that an odd blue light had begun to shine from a point that had been previously hidden by boulders. Finishing up her work at the present site, Amita returned to where her equipment was, put everything away except for some hiking gear, and then, unable to ignore her curiosity, ventured towards the center of the island.

She hiked well into the night, passing some ruins, and crossing a deep ravine, and climbing up the side of the mountain, but eventually she found the cave where the blue light was coming from. When she entered the cavern, her eyes widened and she whispered, "Oh, my God." But God had nothing to do with what she saw. It was a statue of a devil or demon of some kind, made of volcanic rock, laced with lines of lava. A crackling blue energy field permeated the cave, seeming to have no particular source. The demon-statue was kneeling, fists on the ground, head bowed. Was this the evidence that Amita was looking for? The evidence of a past magic-using civilization, that had granted the Circle of Thorns their power, and made them the creatures they were today? Amita was grinning, all else forgotten, as she thought about what this meant for her future.
Then she let out a short, sharp shriek and leapt into the air in fear as the statue's head lifted, and it LOOKED at her. It looked at her with eyes of molten fury. Eyes that were infernos. The eyes of Hell. In a flash, Amita understood, as though knowledge had been injected into her mind, that it had been no ancient civilization that was responsible for the Circle's rise to power. It had been contact with Hell, and deals made with demons, that had enabled them to become so powerful.
The demon-statue -- which was not a statue at all, but an actual demon -- grinned at Amita Rose. Its bat-like wings on its back stretched out, its clawed hands scraped at the ground, and its horns trembled, as its eyes of the most intense of flames scaned Amita up and down. "A VESSEL," the booming voice of the demon echoed in Amita's mind. "A VESSEL SPECIFICALLY CRAFTED FOR HABITATION BY MY KIND. HOW CONVENIENT." Amita was both terrified and intrigued. She had no clue what the Demon was talking about, and wanted to ask it questions, assuming it was bound somehow by magic. On the other hand, her survival instincts were telling her to get the flying fuck out of there RIGHT NOW. She didn't come to a decision fast enough, and the Demon suddenly shattered into a billion tiny motes of ash and flame, which then shot out at Amita, even as she opened her mouth to scream. The ashes shot down her throat, choking her, gagging her, but preventing her from closing her mouth. The burning of her esophagus and then stomach was incredibly painful, and the flames surrounded her, searing her flesh, merging with her...
It went on for what felt like hours. The Demon becoming part of her. When it was over, Amita Rose as she had been was buried deep and forgotten. In its place was a new Amita Rose. One who felt strange new impulses... Impulses to use the powers she now felt filling her being. She looks down at herself, and found she was in a black and red suit of stone... No. It wasn't a suit. It was her new skin. Her large chest was now blunted and angular, made of stone, and not flesh. Her figure was hard and harsh.
But what she had lost in softness and womanliness, she had gained in strength and elemental fury. Amita was warm. Warmer than she had ever been. The stone covering her kept her free of the chill of the cavern, as the creature that had inhabited it was gone now. Amita did not realize this consciously, however. Her memories of her past seemed to be sealed. She still knew who she was, and who she had been. She still remembered everything. But it was no longer important. None of what came before now mattered. All that mattered was that she had to go out and fight -- gaining experience that would be needed to unlock her higher abilities. Amita Rose turned and left the mountain, left behind her expensive rented science equipment, and swam all the way back to land.
Amos-Kar, Demon of Earth and Fire, was guiding his new vessel to become what he needed her to be in order to regain his strength, and be free to walk the Earth once more.

Amita Rose came out of her reminiscences. She remembered where she was. The blood on her stone skin was drying. Sighing, Amita muttered, "I think it's time I went to see Petrovich." Then she rose from her seat on the air-flow unit, gathered the immense strength of Amos-Kar in her legs, and leapt high into the sky, sailing over rooftops, away from Hellforge, and towards the place she knew a certain captain hung out. With a grin, Amita imagined Petrovich would not be pleased to see her.