Although I'm sure that my writing isn't as offensive or as grotesque as the movie, there are still graphic depictions of violence and non-con that may not be suitable for sensitive readers. You will also run into a fair bit of swear words, so be forewarned.

Published under the name Athenos


Part one:

Milton sat back in one of the roughest bars in the Fiery Pits, throwing back shot after shot of Scotch whiskey in an attempt to drown out the monotony of his afterlife. He'd been damned before and he was now damned again, after being escorted back to the depths of Hell by the Accountant.

They'd parted ways back at the gates, with the Accountant being called away to prep for another mission. The Accountant had smiled pleasantly at him and taken away the God Killer – the merciless weapon that Milton had stolen from the Overlord himself. Milton had used it to hold the Accountant at bay until he'd gotten to a point where he was able to get his clutches on Jonah King. But Milton regretted that the one and only time that he'd fired it, he'd caught the Accountant off guard and had actually injured him with it.

The Accountant was a fastidious creature with his pristine, smartly fitted suit, white bleached shirt, nicely polished black leather shoes, and purple and black checked tie. And that was just what he wore. He was immaculate looking as well. He had light brown hair, piercing blue eyes, an angular face, and unblemished fair skin. At least his skin had been that way until the bullet Milton had shot left a scar on the Accountant's left cheek.

It was a shame, really, to damage such a perfect creature.

Milton narrowed his eyes at the fleshless bartender from behind his dark shades. "Hey, buddy, how 'bout keeping my glass full?" It was virtually impossible to get drunk in Hell. Not that Milton didn't give it his best shot every single torturous day of his existence.

As soon as the bartender refilled his glass, Milton raised it to his lips again… and paused. From the table behind him, he overheard a fragment of a conversation. Usually he couldn't give a shit about what the other murderers, rapists, and overthrown dictators gossiped about in their free time. There was too much free time to go around and not enough interesting conversation to fill it with. But, the tail end of the first man's sentence caught his attention.

"He's got it all set up for that bastard the Accountant," the man snickered. "He's had his fill of him. And who wouldn't? Pretty little thing like that waltzing around in a suit and ordering us around!"

"What's he gonna do?" The second man asked in amusement.

"Word is the Accountant is nothing but a fallen angel. He was so bent on justice that he overstepped his boundaries and crossed the line with his methods. Heaven kicked him out. But, when he was kicked out, he was still as pure as driven snow."

The second man dragged his chair closer to the table so he could whisper conspiratorially to the first man. "You don't mean…?"

"Like I said, just a pretty thing in a suit. Won't be for long." He chuckled and banged his jug of beer down noisily onto the table. "We're going to take our turns with him as soon as he's caught. Ain't nothing gonna be pure about him after that."

Milton slammed his own shot glass down onto the bar, forced his stool back, and whipped his arm around to slash the second man's throat. Before the body could hit the floor, he had stabbed the blade through the first man's hand, pinning it to the table.

"What the fuck?!" The man shouted in inhuman pain, but Milton only dug the knife in deeper.

"I want to know who is going after the Accountant, and how," he said coldly, with barely any tonal infliction in his voice.

"What's it to you?! You want a piece of him? Get in line!"

Milton grabbed the man's other arm and broke it in two places over his knee. Although the man screamed in agony, nobody else in the bar moved to intervene. It was just that kind of place.

"I'm not gonna ask you again. When and where is this going down, and who planned it?"

"Reggie! One-eyed Reggie! He set a trap back on Earth to lure the Accountant there. He's gonna get him tonight… in Ohio."

Milton yanked the knife out of the table, adjusted his grip, and stabbed the man in the heart. Both men would need a few hours to cycle back from limbo before being tossed back into their dead bodies. Milton left the temporarily dead corpses to return to his resting place. He picked up all the supplies he would need to break out of Hell – again – and set off in search of the new breach in the gate that he'd been working on.


The Accountant wandered through the streets of a small town on the outskirts of Ohio, comically enjoying the sights and sounds of the human realm. Of course he didn't look out of place, not with his nice expensive suit and overly arrogant smile. It was his behavior that drew attention to him. He lingered too long in front of shop windows, abruptly asked total strangers unsettling questions, and became threatening when he encountered individuals whom he knew were destined for a hellish afterlife. And then there was the way that he practically strutted down the street, as if he were on a runway or auditioning for a gangster movie.

He was hunting down One-eyed Reggie – the psychotic serial killer slash rapist slash cult worshipper. The big bear of a man had escaped – something that was becoming more of a trend after Milton had accomplished it so smoothly – and was back on Earth accumulating a pile of corpses. Both human and animal. Son-of-a-bitch cult wannabe!

The Accountant tried to have no feelings about the men he hunted one way or the other. But when it came to animals and children, he felt particularly hard pressed to remain neutral because he had a disdain for those that preyed on the helpless and innocent. Satan himself was sick and tired of the endless tributes that kept coming his way. Because animals and children were innocent of any sins – well, most of them anyway – the Accountant was charged with removing them from Hell and delivering them to Heaven instead. Nothing more uncomfortable for a fallen angel than to have to show his face at Heaven's gates – the peaceful utopia that he'd been banished from. A place where his violent nature was not welcome.

After a few blocks, the Accountant found himself following a rural highway, tracking it all the way up to a massive cornfield. He'd been walking for a good forty kilometers now. Not long enough to get tired, but he'd had plenty of time to grow bored.

One-eyed Reggie was nothing if not predictable, and repetitive. Same old crime scene. Organs strewn into a ditch and body parts scattered across the cornfield.

The Accountant was careful with where he stepped as he entered the cornfield, pushing past the tall cornstalks that had yet to be harvested to find a narrow path. But what was careful for him looked like overly graceful maneuvering to the human eye. He touched nothing and nothing touched him.

"You found me faster than I'd thought." A voice called out from behind the Accountant.

The Accountant spun on his heel to come face to face with the big, hairy, burly One-eyed Reggie. The Accountant prided himself on his love for anything aesthetically pleasing, and Reggie was anything but. The middle-aged man was filthy, unkempt, smelled, and had lost three teeth to tooth decay. Not to mention that he only had one eye. The other eye he'd lost to some willful whore who had had the good sense to gouge it out before her untimely demise.

"Reggie, how nice of you to be cooperative." The Accountant stood his ground firmly, preparing to summon the gateway that would bring them back to the Bridge of Inferno. "Playtime is over."

"Naw, it's just begun." Reggie lunged at the Accountant, throwing his overbearing weight at the slender creature. He wasn't surprised when the Accountant smoothly stepped aside to avoid the attack, coming within a millimeter of brushing up against a cornstalk.

But again, the Accountant touched nothing and nothing touched him. The only time any human had broken through his defenses was when Milton had shot at him with the God Killer. He'd probably deserved it considering how distracted he'd been at the time. Nobody but Milton had the ability to distract him.

"Your attacks are just as infantile as they've always been." The Accountant sighed and then smiled smugly at Reggie. "I shall enjoy turning them against you."

"And I'm gonna enjoy tearing into you," Reggie growled, throwing a handful of sand into the Accountant's face.

"As I said, infantile…" The Accountant brushed the sand off of his expensive suit… and swayed on his feet. "What was that?"

"I got it from the Pool of Acquiescence. I'm sure you know what its powers are." Reggie approached the Accountant without hesitation, causing the creature to back away clumsily. "The sand gets into your body and makes you weak. Makes you easy." He laughed when a look of anxiety – an emotion that was undoubtedly foreign to the fallen angel – entered those blue eyes.

Still not fully aware of Reggie's intentions, the Accountant grabbed hold of a nearby cornstalk and ripped it out of the ground. "That area is off limits. Only Satan himself has access to it for his own nefarious needs. You can consider yourself sealed in a lava pit for all eternity over this."

"Add it to my list of crimes," Reggie snarled, raising his arms to shield his face when the Accountant whacked the cornstalk at him with inhuman force. Although strong and fast, the attack didn't faze Reggie. It would take more than that to slow down a man who was already dead.

The Accountant pulled back the cornstalk, twisted lightly on his heel, and prepared to ram the end of the stalk straight through Reggie's torso. On a regular day, he wouldn't have had any problem doing that. So, when he tripped and crashed sideways into the bed of leaves and stalks that Reggie had trampled on, the Accountant knew he was in trouble. He tried to push himself back to his feet, but one of his ankles was tangled in a mess of dry roots, and the sleeves of his suit jacket snagged on dry husks. There was a thin haze obstructing his vision, and a dampening fog dulling his mind.

Reggie proudly observed his handiwork for a moment before crouching down to the Accountant and slipping a greasy hand around that slender neck. He suddenly clamped down hard, cutting off the fallen angel's air supply and effectively choking him. "I'm gonna have a helluva good time with you," he promised. He pulled the Accountant up against him by his throat, ignoring the fingers that clawed at his hands, peeling back flesh. He kept the Accountant in that position, struggling and now gasping for air, as he unzipped his pants and pulled his monstrous erection loose. He hadn't been this turned on since the first innocent he'd raped and slaughtered.

The Accountant was finding it incredibly difficult to stay conscious with his air supply cut off and the pressure on his throat nauseatingly uncomfortable. He had never thought that he was capable of losing consciousness. Or that a simple human would have the power to incapacitate him. But when Reggie's other hand crept over his chest, pushing inside his suit jacket to cruelly pinch one of his nipples through his shirt, the Accountant felt new emotions being forced to the surface. He knew at once that he didn't like these new emotions because they made him feel worse about the situation. He wasn't accustomed to feeling shame and he hated feeling fear even more. But he was determined not to react, not to give Reggie the perverse satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

"I don't believe that you can't feel this," Reggie taunted, relaxing his grip on the Accountant's throat for a few seconds.

"Go fuck yourself!" The Accountant cursed, unable to lower his head to inspect the ground in front of him. But he still had his sense of touch. He gave up on trying to rip Reggie's hand apart and instead began to comb the ground with his fingers, searching for anything thick and hard enough to take out Reggie's other eye.

"That's the fire that I was looking for." Reggie tightened his grip again, causing the Accountant to violently choke. "I'm gonna put it out for good." He shoved the Accountant forward, onto his hands and knees, and began to grope his ass.

The discomforting fear that the Accountant had been feeling multiplied tenfold when he felt that disgusting hand squeezing him through the thin fabric of his tailored pants. Why did humans find this kind of activity physically stimulating? It was deplorable. Allowing oneself to be touched like that. The Accountant began to panic when Reggie's hand pushed down the back of his pants, tearing the stitching out of the waistband. The feeling of a roughened palm scratching over the slight curve of his buttocks coaxed a strangled sound of desperation out of him.

Reggie, who up until that point had been breathing harshly by the Accountant's ear – no doubt getting off on the whole thing – suddenly made a sound that sounded a heck of a lot like physical anguish. The hand on the Accountant's throat was forcefully removed, as was the one down his pants. Left with nothing holding him up, the Accountant fell back to the ground, gasping for air.

"You could've had any piece of tail you wanted back there," a cold, calculating voice muttered to Reggie, causing the one-eyed menace to growl in fury. "You screwed up big time when you targeted this one here. You don't get to touch this one."

When the Accountant looked up to see who his rescuer was, he was stunned to find Milton standing there with a pair of pliers jammed up against Reggie's throat. Both of Reggie's hands were hanging uselessly at his sides, bones protruding from his wrists.

"What business is it of yours?!" Reggie demanded to know, trying to escape Milton's clutches.

"The Accountant is mine," Milton stated possessively. "He belongs to me!" Having said his piece, he calmly snapped the pliers together and ripped out Reggie's throat. He tossed the body carelessly into the cornfield behind him and crouched down to the Accountant. He'd never seen the fair creature looking so unbalanced or afraid. "What'd he do to you?"

The Accountant blinked and tried to regain his composure. But he failed, unable to push himself up off of the ground or erase the feeling of helplessness that Reggie had sparked in him. "He stole sand from the Pool of Acquiescence…"

"Did he hurt you?" Milton tenderly caressed the Accountant's face.

The Accountant wanted to put on a phony smile for Milton to assure him that no damage had been done, but he couldn't. And the rogue was touching him in a way that no one ever had before. He was extremely confused and afraid.

"We need to get out of here before someone finds the body." Milton pulled the Accountant to his feet and led him to the black sports car that he'd jacked from one of the nicer neighborhoods. "Get in." He noticed how the fallen angel was looking at him suspiciously, trying to find a weapon to defend himself with. "Listen, blue eyes," Milton said roughly, pulling the Accountant into a fierce embrace. "You're mine now. And I protect what belongs to me."

The Accountant looked stunned and maybe a little softened by Milton's possessiveness. Milton adjusted his shades and ran his hands through his longish blond-dyed hair.

"That crap'll wear off in an hour or so. We'll be on the highway the whole time so you have nothing to worry about." Milton got behind the wheel and revved the engine, impatiently waiting for the Accountant to get into the passenger's side of his own volition. As soon as the Accountant had settled himself into the leather seat and closed the door, Milton floored it.

The Accountant watched the scenery fly by, gradually regaining his senses as he felt the effects of the sand begin to wear off. He tried to shake off the negative feelings that continued to assault him, but found that there was no off button for them. And now they were mingled with something else, a feeling towards Milton that he could not define. "You fucking escaped… again?" The Accountant asked conversationally as he tried to straighten up his damaged suit.

"Obviously." Milton resisted the urge to tell the Accountant to stop swearing. When most normal people cursed, they did it with a furious or challenging tone. Profanity was invented to incite violence and start fist fights. But not when the Accountant used it. To the Accountant, swear words were nothing but overused adverbs that carried the same weight as the verbs that followed them.

"For what reason this time? I assumed that you'd already resolved the angst in your afterlife."

"I had. But then I overheard two of Reggie's goons talking about hurting you and I had to get out again. I couldn't let them do that, blue eyes. I just couldn't."

The Accountant felt a faintly unpleasant heat rising from his neck to his face. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

"It's better than referring to you as the Accountant. Unless you have a real name, I'm just gonna keep on calling you that."

"Milton…" The Accountant touched Milton's arm, feeling the instinctive need to express his gratitude for how the ruffian had taken care of Reggie for him. "Although I question your misguided belief that I belong to you, I am very appreciative of your timely interference." A shadow of his usual playful cockiness lifted the corners of the Accountant's lips up into a smile.

Milton reacted in a completely unpredictable and crazy way, as he was well known for. He hit the emergency flashers and pulled over to the side of the highway. As soon as he'd unfastened his seatbelt, he yanked the Accountant close by the collar of his suit jacket. "Never do that while I'm driving," he advised. "I don't need anymore incentive to take you outside and screw you on the hood of my car." When he was sure that the Accountant had gotten the message, Milton pushed him back into the passenger's seat and pulled back onto the highway.

The Accountant sat there feeling lightheaded and stunned by Milton's very real threat. "You would do that?" He asked in disbelief.

"Oh yeah. In broad daylight too. So, don't tempt me."

For some reason, the idea of Milton making good on his threat affected the Accountant differently than the unwanted touch of Reggie's hands on his body had. He wondered if he would still entertain the thought after the sand was completely out of his system. Seeing as how he had no choice but to stick with Milton until that happened, he figured that he would soon find out.