Update: Just found out that this site doesn't allow any real people. Even dead ones, apparently. So I went through and replaced Henry Ford with my new, completely original character. Introducing Fenry Hord, owner of Hord Automobiles! He is not Henry Ford so do not remove my fic, please.


Chapter 3 – Sixteen Tons

"Put this on," says the armored demon as it uses one hand to throw a bright, orange vest at Barry. The other hand is covering up the hole where its left eye used to be.

Barry swiftly puts the vest on and the demon starts walking further into the warehouse. "Follow me," it says to Barry, who then walks after it.

"So," Barry says with a smile, thinking himself clever. "You want revenge on Dean. I want revenge on Dean. Why don't we work something out in exchange for my freedom? And, perhaps, an audience with the Devil?"

The demon glares at him over its shoulder. "I fucking own you, bee. If I wanted your help, I would just command it. I could also command you to stop existing, which I will do if you don't silence that mouth of yours."

Barry is quick to stop speaking and just continues following his new master. As they continue deeper into the Amazon, the building becomes more and more populated until they finally reach the center of the current work area. Tens of thousands of men and women bustling around like bees. Maybe hundreds of thousands. Every rich asshole who ever lived and died is currently working in this Amazon warehouse. Everyone from Mansa Musa to John Rockefeller, condemned to an eternity of labor. Demons do seem to be fond of ironic punishments.

"Holy shit," Barry says in awe as some fat guy who has clearly never lifted anything before struggles by with a large box.

"Shut the fuck and get working," the demon says, still holding its eye. "I'm going to go get this patched up." It promptly walks away.

Barry wanders around, not sure what to do. He considers trying to escape, but the various demons guarding the damned workers make him reconsider. He eventually almost trips over a short man wearing his orange vest overtop a pristine suit, who then drops his box.

"Watch where you're going!" the man shouts through his bushy, white mustache.

"Sorry," Barry says, before looking down the strangely familiar man. Just where does he recognize him from? "Wait, are you actually wearing a top hat and monocle."

"Yes. And what of it, bee?" the monocled man says, so short that he's looking up at Barry.

"Well, I just thought that was a stereotype. I didn't expect-" Barry immediately cuts himself off as he realizes why he knows this man. "Holy shit! You're the fucking Monopoly Man!" Barry laughs. "I thought you were just a boardgame mascot! I didn't know you were real!"

The Monopoly Man's face turns red out of rage. "I was damn well real and no amount of government cover-up can change that fact!"

No one seems to notice the short man screaming at the top of his lungs. Either that or it's just a frequent occurrence and they don't care anymore.

"That goddamn socialist Franklin Roosevelt always hated that I was trillionaire! I bet that as soon as I died, he erased me from the books!" He stops shouting and seems to be out of breath even though the dead don't need to breathe.

A tall, old man, also wearing his vest over a suit, walks over with a smug look on his face. "You know, I hate seeing you like this, old friend. However, there is a small misconception that I must clear up. It wasn't Roosevelt who led the cover-up. It was me, Fenry Hord, who erased your existence." Hord grinned. "It brings me great pleasure whenever someone thinks you're just a mascot."

The Monopoly Man's face somehow gets even redder. "Oh, fuck you, Fenry! At least everyone doesn't think that I was obsessed with square dancing! You're welcome for that, by the way."

Hord scoffs. "At least people remember I exist." He smirks. "Can't say the same for you!"

He starts to walk away laughing when the Monopoly Man screams and charges him. However, he never collides with Hord, because a large, brutish demon seemingly appears out of nowhere and picks up the Monopoly Man with a single hand.

"Get back to work," it says with a scowl, glaring at all three of them.

It then throws the Monopoly Man on the ground and walks off. By the time he gets up, Fenry Hord is already gone. He picks his box back up off the ground and starts walking. Barry grabs a random box off the nearby shelf and follows after him.

Barry looks down at the Monopoly Man as they walk. "So, uh, do you have a name? Because I've just been calling you 'Monopoly Man' in my head the whole time," Barry sheepishly says.

"Monopoly Man," the short man grumbles.

"Yes, that's what I said," Barry confirms.

The Monopoly Man sighs. "No, my name is Monopoly Man. First name, Monopoly. Last name, Man," he reluctantly explains.

Barry holds in a snort. "I see," he says.

Monopoly scowls at him, but says nothing.

"So," Barry says. "Where are we taking these boxes, exactly?"


After delivering their boxes, Barry and Monopoly arrive back at the central hub. There seems to be some kind of commotion near the middle of the open area. It looks like a crowd of workers is surrounding a demon grunt.

Barry leaves Monopoly behind and pushes his way through the crowd. When he gets to the front, he's able to see what's happening.

The large demon is carrying the broken, bloody body of Dean Winchester.

The demon unceremoniously throughs him onto the floor as the one-eyed demon, now wearing an eyepatch, shoves aside a dozen workers to get to the grunt.

"Wake him up," it says to the larger demon.

"I don't think he's sleeping," it responds. "He unconscious."

The one-eyed demon sighs. "Bring out the pain rod!" it shouts over its shoulder at some distant servant.

A small, winged imp then swoops over the crowd, carrying a wooden rod. It drops it into the hands of the one-eyed demon before flying away. The one-eyed demon then turns its attention back to Dean's body. It grips the wooden rod in one hand and gently touches it to Dean's abdomen for only a second, before quickly pulling it away.

Dean's eyes suddenly shoot open as he begins to scream. With his unbroken arm, he claws at the spot where the rod touched him. The crowd begins stepping back in horror as his screams grow more and more intense and he starts writhing in pain. His screams are still echoing through the warehouse when he begins to calm down. Barry isn't sure if the pain stopped or if it's due to exhaustion.

"What the fuck was that?" Dean says in between gasps for air.

The one-eyed demon grins. "Payback," it says as the grunt throws an orange vest at Dean. "Now, put that on and get to work."

It begins to walk away as Dean climbs to his feet. "Nice try, Eyepatch," he says. "But you can't bind a living soul to Hell."

The one-eyed demon turns around, scowling. "You're alive? In Hell?" it asks incredulously, before chuckling. "I should've known the great Dean Winchester couldn't have already met his match. Luckily, there's quite a simple solution to this problem."

Before Dean realizes what the demon means by this, it has already pulled out the silver gun Dean dropped in his earlier fight, and pointed it straight at Dean's heart. It pulls the trigger and with a bang, Dean's own body falls to the ground in front of him. Realization hits Dean as he watches blood from his own corpse pool at his feet.

He fucking died.

The one-eyed demon holsters Dean's gun as it laughs maniacally. "Thanks for the tip, Winchester!" it says. "Now get to get to work or I kill you again."

The demon turns around and leaves, while Dean falls to his knees, still staring at his corpse.

Fuck.