Family Moments in Hell

         Mark sat atop a mound of corpses; demon corpses to be precise, their flesh burning or fried off completely.  Limbs and other mutilated body parts were strewn across the ground as a mote of blood and jellied organs flowed around his private island of decaying dead.
         He sighed and looked to his right.  His mother was also sitting among the limp carcasses, her black hair still wet with blood.
         It was hard to believe it'd already been a year…or something.  It was at least what he guessed to be a year.  It was probably a lot longer than that, but he couldn't really tell.  Time didn't hold too much meaning in Hell.
         Mark wasn't sure how to feel about the whole situation.  On the one hand, he was in Hell.  He'd left all his friends, not to mention his newly wed wife, all to free his mother from her eternal torment.  As odd as it sounded though, there were some positives.  For one, he'd finally met his mother, something he'd dreamed of since he was a kid.  That, and all the demons and fallen angels he could kill.  His powers were growing by leaps and bounds, so that was something.
         He stood up and smiled, concluding that in the long run, it could have been a lot worse.  With a quick leap, he landed next to his mother, and sat again.
         "Hey mom," he greeted.
         His presence brought a smile to her moderately aged face.
         "Hey hun."
         After that, they sat silent, watching the swirling black Hellfire that made up the sky.  In a twisted sort of way, it was kinda beautiful.
         "We should be to the eighth ring soon.  There'll be less opposition there," said Relena.
         She looked back at the mound and sighed.
         "What?" asked Mark.
         "Nothing, this just reminds me of the first time I met your father."
         Oh, he had to hear this.
         "Tell me about it," he said, his elbow squishing against a caved in skull.
         "He was marvelous," she said dreamily, taking on the aura of an infatuated schoolgirl.
         "He was on a gory mound of bodies just like this one, slicing away any of my troops foolish enough to approach him.  In a matter of minutes they were all dead and alone we locked eyes,   He just stood there unafraid and said, 'Hey hotness'."
         Interested, he asked: "Then what?"
         "Well, back then it pissed me off and I tried to burn his eyes out.  Now though, just thinking about his chest gleaming in the moonlight drenched in gallons of blood gets me so unbelievably hor-…"
         "Okay, story time's over!" shouted Mark before any irreparable mental scarring could occur.
         Relena grinned evilly.  "Look at it this way, I could've told you the story about the night we made you."
         "I'm leaving," Mark said, standing up and heading for the blood mote.
         "Oh Mark, get back here."
         Mark refused and kept walking.
         "I'm not kidding Mark, don't you go off on your own!" she said more sternly.
         Still, he kept walking.  Now Relena's famously short temper was rearing its head.
"Marcus Jeremiah Colt, get your demonic butt back up here now!  I'm counting to three!"
         Now Mark whipped around.
         "Mom, I'm in my twenties!  I've fought vampires, golems, gone one on one with my insanely powerful uncle, spent the last year of my life turning demon hordes into what you're now sitting on, and faced down Lisa when she was pissed!  You counting to three doesn't worry me!"
         "...1..."
         Mark pinched the bridge between his eyes.  
        "Here we go," he sighed.
        "...2..." his mother said in a warning tone.
        He shook his head.
        "...2 ½..."
        "Alright, provided there are no more stories involving you gushing and ogling over dad like he was some sort of sex god, I'll come back up."
        She grinned victoriously.  "I make no promises."
        "Good enough," he muttered as he enveloped himself in Hellfire, traveling briefly through dimensions, only to re-appear in a black flash next to his mother.  He sat back down on the body he'd previously been resting on, and Relena did the same.  
        She laughed and began teasing and poking her son.  He simply sat there in silent humiliation.
        "And who was it that said that counting to three wouldn't work?"
        "You're such a child," he said, his arms crossed.
        "I don't know why everyone thinks I have your personality, you're nothing like Larent or Collin or anyone else described you."
        Relena ceased her playful poking and prodding, growing abnormally quiet.
        "I'm not surprised.  Larent always seemed to idolize me, despite being older, and as for the rest…well, it's hard…to forget watching one woman burn all your friends alive.  I'm not surprised I was only remembered for all the bad things I did.  I'm not surprised they hate me.  I'm not proud of any of it."
        Guilt began to build up in Mark's gut.  He hadn't meant it like that, and he wanted to say that out loud, but somehow he knew this was something she'd been meaning to get off her chest.  
        "That's partially why I fell in love with your father; even when we were on opposing fronts he never looked at me like he hated me.  In fact, even when I was trying to kill him, he was happy to see me.  He'd always say I was fun to fight because I got so riled up when he teased me."    
        She grasped Mark's hand, and he squeezed back as she wiped a stray tear from the side of her cheek and sniffled.
        "He changed me, and so did you.  When I finally left here, and we were together, I was so happy.  You being born only made me happier; you finally let me leave behind what I used to be.  The person people remember me as is a person I never want to be again."
        Mark didn't really know what to say.  He'd imagined having a conversation like this millions of times in his head, but he never thought he'd ever actually have it.  Hearing it out loud in real life brought an honest and content smile to his face.
        "For all it's worth coming from me; you're a great mom.  If you weren't, I'd have died a long time ago."
        She smiled and quickly pulled him into a hug he wasn't exactly ready for, but didn't in any way reject.  In fact, he was quick to return it.
        "And you make me proud.  Not every mother can say her son saved the entire world and jumped straight into Hell to save her."
        Mark chuckled.  "Yeah, I'm sure you'll be tossing that card around for a while."
        The touching moment was suddenly interrupted with a loud explosion, and a subsequent shower of limbs and blood.  The mother and son duo looked over and saw a fresh wave of demons, their claws and blades twitching with anticipation.  They were being led by another fallen angel, not unlike the one they'd killed in the last battle that ended up creating the mound they were sitting on.  The black winged warrior pointed to them with his spear.
        "Kill them!" he shouted.
        Immediately the monstrosities began sloshing through the lake of their comrade's liquefied innards.
        Relena and Mark both stood and charged to meet them.  
        It was time for some mother-son bonding.