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Mr. Evans screamed, it was a scream of horrible, immeasurable, primal mourning. In the course of 100 seconds, his life had been destroyed. Mr. Evans fell to his knees, and tears poured from his eyes, mixing hellishly with the pool of blood on his handsome ochre floor… Their ochre floor… The one that had rested under them as they lived… Dined… Slept… Loved…That anger… The fury that had enveloped him just a minute before, where had it come from? Why, when she had asked him to do chores a hundred times? Sure, it was annoying, but it was Erica… It was his beloved… Why, “GOD WHY!?” He screamed aloud. Why? The knife… It had almost glowed, it begged him, and he had complied, and now… He gazed into his wife’s lifeless eyes, tears still on her face, crystallized, immortalized… The knife lay next to her, hilt to blade covered in red… Again, the knife called to him… And he could not refuse. He picked it up slowly, seeing the twisted red reflection of his wife… of her lacerated body. He turned the knife towards his own heart, and… Mr. George Evans breathed his last breath.
The culprit of these horrible murders probably should have left before the police arrived. But, in 10 hours time, the police would conclude just what any logical human being with the proper equipment would: That George Evans had murdered his wife Erica, and then, crushed with remorse and quite possibly dementia, killed himself. Other than the fact that the police already had their perfect murderer, the true criminal had another perk, another excellent alibi. That was, of course, that he couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be felt, or experienced in any other tangible way that would make one suspect they were not alone in the room. The true culprit’s name was Wrath. And at the moment, he and Terror, his comrade and right-hand man were laughing hysterically in the corner of the apartment.
“D’you see him?” Questioned Terror in a raspy voice, wiping a tear away, invisible under his spiked helmet with a black leather hand. “He was all… NOOO! OH MY GOD, SHE’S DEAD, NOOO!!! HAHAHA!” And the two collapsed, weeping with joy their armor rattling, inaudible to any human ear… They sat there for awhile, getting all their giggles out. Finally, Wrath spoke up. His voice sounded like a Giant’s being filtered through a ventilator. “Let’s go find some teenagers, I’m in the mood for more misery tonight.” Wrath was surprised at himself. A militant being in many respects, it had been years since he’d cut this loose and had such a good time. Such a ‘night on the town.’ As it were. Wrath and Terror exited out the window, jumping ten stories down into the moonlight night. The streets of Los Angeles truly were beautiful at night. Skyscrapers towered over the two armor-clad figures, and a full moon shone down on the city streets… “We sure would be terrifying if these sad little creatures could see us.” Noted Terror. Wrath nodded in agreement.
All of a sudden, a tremendous crack like thunder on asphalt hit the sky, and the Sin turned casually as the fabric of the universe was torn apart. From what at first seemed like a tiny slit, like a rip in a screen door, grew wider and wider, replacing several shop fronts, a Starbucks and a parking lot as it did so. Despite this, the one or two vagabonds dotting the street didn’t seem to notice. Fire cracked from inside the enormous windows of the portal, and suddenly, runes shot from its gaping mouth, forming Get Your Ass In Here in the night sky.
“Uhh… Master.” Began Terror “My Latin Hellish is a little rusty, what does that say?”
Wrath grinned, five bloody fangs curving beneath his visor. “It says ‘get your ass in here.’”
Terror looked up at his master, very serious all of a sudden. “Think he’s pissed? I mean… He hasn’t called us since his birthday.” Wrath shrugged, “Maybe… But something tells me his… Wrath isn’t directed at us. After all, if it were us, we wouldn’t exist anymore.” Terror thought this over.
The two shadowy figures moved towards the enormous flaming portal, and entered it. A sensation like being sucked through a very hot car wash enveloped the two demons, and a few moments later they were deposited in a field of scorching flames and skull-fruited trees.
“So good to be home!” Exclaimed Wrath flinging his gauntleted arms to the sky. Said sky was a deep crimson, and crackled with thunder, black as coal. All around, the ground belched tremendous columns of flame, and nearby a river flowed with blood red as cherries. As Wrath and Terror took their first few steps into hell, they noticed rather instantly that they were not alone.
“Well, well what have we here?” A regal looking woman with beautifully made attire and a rather randomly placed eye her left side strode up to Wrath, flanked by demonic looking creatures dressed like ballroom dancers. They swaggered slightly, and the woman herself seemed to gesture with her eyes as she continued in a surprisingly human voice. “It seems the big stwong Wath has come to pay master a visit.” Wrath drew his sword, extending it towards the woman’s throat. The woman’s guardians drew their weapons as well.
“Don’t play with me, Pride. Master called you here same as us.” Shot Wrarth. Pride looked taken aback.
“Called? CALLED? We are royalty. We cannot be compared to lapdogs like you… Being summoned and dismissed at will!…” A rather awkward silence followed, broken by damned screams several hundred feet in the distance. “But… Beelzebub did invite us here, no doubt for some gala event.” A kind of ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ emanated from the masked creatures, and several of the ones resembling females giggled. Wrath sheathed his sword.
“Believe whatever you want, pride, just don’t piss me off… Let’s go, Terror.” The two turned to leave.
“You really are such a brute, Wrath!” Called Pride after them, and giggles could be heard from the demons behind her.
As the two continued through the beautiful scorched countryside other familiar faces appeared. “Wrath!” Exclaimed Terror pointing to a rather large and grotesque looking zombie lumbering over a hill. “It’s a glutton! And there…” Emerging from some trees, tall as billboards and dripping with what looked like purple slime, “Yawns!” Terror was referring to the rather surrealistic-looking beings that looked to be half animal and half human, wolven faces over bare chests covered in grotesque charcoaled runes. Wrath drank in the other sinful demons approaching. “We’re all heading for the ruby palace… What the heaven is going on?”
As Wrath and Terror continued along the bone-strewn road, more creatures appeared. Scantily clad Lust was being carried on a miniature ziggurat by some magenta-boned skeletons and Gluttony himself emerged like a tremendous slug with a crown, lumbering alongside his zombie minions and occasionally popping one into his cavernous mouth. After another half hour of this march it came into sight: The Ruby Palace. Engulfed in blue and red flames, and surrounded by a moat of fire, it gleamed in the hot hell evening air.
“Well…. Here we are.” Rasped Wrath to no one in particular. For a few moments, the sins and their assorted shapes, colors sizes and smells of followers just gazed in awe at the enormous structure, feeling, strangely, something none of them had felt before; a strange kind of unity with their fellow sins. Then the moment was over, and in a flash of runes an enormous drawbridge descended from the palace, and robed devils armed with scythes appeared on the roadside in puffs of smoke, ushering the sins inside.
The interior of the palace was covered in bones, severed limbs and games. Several pinball machines rested in the corner along with a PS2, a Wii, an arcade fighting simulator, and a dartboard with the Dhali Lhama’s image pinned to it. All were baked in a red neon glow.
And amidst these toys and corpses, a lone figure sat enthroned on a massive spiked throne. Tall, armored, and red. He descended from his perch with the fire and hatred in his eyes of a billion years, looked at his guests and said,
“Hello kiddies, we have a problem.”
What Really HappenedEdit
Lords of HellEdit
- Pride - Trine Boode-Petersen
- Wrath - Brennan Lee Mulligan
- Envy - Ben Schwartz
- Guardian of the Helm of Flame - Benjy Wachter
- Guardian of the Fell Dagger - Ruby Lavin
- Guardian of the Phoenix Feather - Penny Weber