The floodlights were blinding, making him wince as he was forced to squint almost to the point of shutting his eyes completely.

They had escorted him, a silent guard to either side holding him firmly by the arms, to the lone chair in the middle of the massive octagonal pit. Above the pit was a viewing gallery, though the glaring lights prevented him from seeing into the relative darkness that covered that space.

Almost as soon as they had entered, he could feel eyes on him all the way to the point when he was secured to the chair with magnetic locks that clamp onto the metal bands on his wrists and ankles. The guards retreated to where they had emerged from a side door, which slid shut behind them, leaving him alone.

The silence that followed was punctured only by his loud and quick breaths, and the fast beating of his heart in his ears.

He tried one more time to look up towards the viewing gallery once his eyes adjusted a little, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it was that was up there, but the lights were too painful to bear for long and he quickly found himself lowering his head and staring down at the grated metal floor instead, blinking away to the pain and spots in his vision.

"Prisoner 501-34-T3R," A familiar, slightly nasally voice spoke through the speakers that ringed the pit. It was a soft pitched, but clearly masculine voice, and spoke with measured confidence and authority of someone accustomed to giving orders.

His whole body stiffened upon hearing it. Everyone in this god forsaken place knew who that voice belonged to, though nobody had ever actually seen his face or knew his true name. There was only one name, one title, that he was called by, and it was certainly not his birth name.

Lord Death.

Not even the guards dared to speak a word about him. It was common knowledge that he knew everything that ever happened within the walls of the complex, and not even they were immune to punishment should they break the rules.

"Do you know why you're here?"

The question caught him off guard. Was this a trick question? Was this a test? He tried to find a reason for it, but only ended up feeling more confused. If he answers incorrectly, there are likely to be consequences. But if he did not answer at all, there would also be consequences.

"I…I committed a crime." He answered weakly with a questioning tone. He glared up at the glass with one eye pinched closed.

"Crimes, prisoner. Plural," He corrected him, though he did not sound upset. "At least, according to the extensive file we have on you."

He nodded, shivering as he realized it was rather cold in here. He twisted his wrists in their locks, which sent goosebumps throughout his body as the cold metal grazed his warm skin.

"But no, that's not exactly what I was asking," continued Lord Death, sounding almost amused. "You are aware that you have been sentenced to death for your crimes, are you not?"

The sudden reminder of his sentence left him feeling numb, especially after having spent months here without so much as a whisper about when it was going to happen. The thought had been there in the back of his mind, that he was here because of that, but he had refused to even consider it.

After all, he did not want to die. Even despite the guilt of his crimes weighing heavily upon him, he did not want to acknowledge that he would at some point be forced unwillingly into the cold, dark unknown that was death.

The silence stretched on, and he realized that he was expected to respond. He nodded weakly.

"Then tell me," said Lord Death, "How would you want to die?"

He balled his hands into fists, and his skin paled from the strain. Is he for real?

"Are you joking?" he asked, breathing out a laugh in disbelief. "I don't want to die."

"Come now prisoner. Everyone will die eventually, whether they choose how to or not. I am simply giving you that option." If the words were meant to console him, they certainly did no such thing.

Lord Death kept going. "Death is the only guarantee we have in our lives. The only fate that we, as living biological organisms, cannot currently run from or avoid completely." He continued, "In this regard, you might have even heard that death is the great equalizer. And while there is some truth to that, it is not entirely true. Because the thing is, while most people never get the luxury of choosing how they die, some people, the lucky few, actually do."

He blinked, tossing his head back and resting his neck on the chair backing. He stared into the dark void above his head as he took in Lord Death's words. He couldn't figure out where this conversation was going. Did he make this speech to every inmate on death row right before their lives were ended? What was the point in all of this?

Lord Death pressed on, sounding almost like he was giving a lecture at a university instead of speaking to an inmate bound to a chair in the middle of a pit bathed in lights. "You see, most people go about their lives barely giving a thought to the death that awaits them, watching them from every shadow and every corner, waiting to welcome them somehow, some way, to the great unknown." This guy really lives up to his title. He understands now why he is called Lord Death.

"There are those who are caught completely by surprise when it comes. These are the people who don't get to choose, because by the time death comes for them, it is already far too late. Then there are those who are fully aware of their impending death, who hear quite clearly the knocking of the grim reaper at their doors as it pays them a visit, whether it be a terminal illness or simply old age. Or, perhaps more relevant to us now, a prisoner being sentenced to death for their crimes."

Lord Death paused, and despite not being able to see him, the prisoner had a feeling that he was smiling right then. In the scenario he had just described, he pictured Lord Death as the grim reaper coming to knock on his door, and he shivers again at the thought.

"It is that cognizance of death's inescapable approach that grants these people a choice of how they want to die, of how they face that death as it bears down on them. And on the rare occasion, their choices might even make death leave them alone, at least for a little while longer, giving them more time to live. More time to make a difference and a mark on the world. Wouldn't that be nice?"

He quickly looked up again at the gallery, squinting into the lights even as they blinded him, as a new thought sprung up in his mind. A hopeful thought, one that both frightened and excited him.

"And that brings us to the reason why you're here today. Prisoner 501-34-T3R is scheduled to be executed in approximately ninety minutes." Lord Death nonchalantly mentioned. "But as you already know by now, I am no ordinary warden, and you are no ordinary prisoner. And given these extraordinary circumstances, I'm offering you the chance to be one of the lucky few to have a choice as to how you might die, and you best listen carefully."

The mention of the circumstances causes him to breath in sharply through his nose and shut his eyes. He drops his chin to his chest and listens carefully as Lord Death continues.

"Would you rather go quietly and peacefully to a certain death surrounded by doctors and guards ninety minutes from now," he paused for effect, "or fight and claw your way through the depths of hell itself for a slim second chance at life? The choice is yours Evans."


A/N Hello! Its been a while! Horror genre isn't really something I've ever dipped into before but I really wanted to give it a try with HellFire. Comments and reviews are extremely helpful as a write and I do appreciate any feedback!