-Chapter 2-

Even though he had no idea how many days had passed since his ill-advised decision to leave the cave, Lelouch suspected that his body would have expired by now if he was still alive. Was it even possible to die in Hell? It was clearly obvious that his body was not as corporeal as it used to be.

He knew that he was a spirit, but he wondered if he was the same type of spirit that Marianne the Flash had been in the World of C. He then wondered if his mother was also residing somewhere in Hell. And then he tried his best to stop thinking about that.

Unfortunately, there was nothing for him to do but think. But there was only so many times that a person could mentally play chess against himself before he realized that it would always end in a stalemate. He was currently working on a variant in which his opponent would only have the strategic capability of someone like Suzaku.

Part of him wished Suzaku was here. That may have been a selfish thought, but he could think of no other person he would want to walk at his side through Hell. But Suzaku was not here, and Lelouch was no physical superman who could snap his bonds with a twitch of his muscles. He was a leader, but there was no one here to lead or command.

So all he could do was dangle alone with his thoughts and wait for a change in circumstances. An opportunity would present itself. He had to believe that.

Lelouch wondered if it would be worth the attempt to try to bargain with Lucifer or to plead forgiveness from God. He wondered if trying to do one would preclude him from trying the other. Lelouch did not have any serious intentions of doing either, but he couldn't stop himself from trying to think through the possibilities.

He couldn't stop thinking. Mao once told Lelouch that he was not the type of person who could empty his mind, and that madman had been right. Thinking and thinking about what he was thinking and so on was Lelouch's power and his curse. That was why he had lost the most important chess game of his life that day.

If he had been designing the perfect hellish punishment for himself, he would have put himself back in that moment when his world had crumbled. Only this time there would have been no Suzaku to come crashing through the window to save the day.

Or perhaps he would have put himself in the moment when the Tokyo Settlement had disappeared off the face of the Earth and he had knownthat Nunally had been in the blast radius.

Now that he thought about it, this punishment that he was suffering from that he once thought was so fitting now seemed rather perfunctory. Sticking him out on a cross in the middle of nowhere to rot seemed so unimaginative now that the novelty had worn off. Was this really the best that Hell could do? Or was the real punishment the knowledge that he didn't warrant any special treatment and that he was to be treated no differently than the average mass-murdering megalomaniac? That would certainly be a blow to his ego.

Or maybe this situation had nothing to do with him and was really an indication of the limits of Hell's resources and abilities. Perhaps only so much attention could be allotted to each damned soul. Hell must be awfully crowded after all...

It was probably a sign of his deteriorating mind that it took him a few minutes to realize that the black shape moving in his direction was a person.

No, not a person.

The creature walking toward him had the head of a bull and the body of an Austrian bodybuilder on steroids. The crimson loincloth covered but did nothing to hide the fact that this creature was male. He looked like he belonged in one of those Zachary Snyder movies that Rivalz had insisted that Lelouch watch with him.

Lelouch wondered if all demons (for this creature could be nothing else) resembled the mythological Greek Minotaur. Perhaps the appearance of a half-man, half-monster was intended to be another subtly mocking message.

Lelouch felt his sluggish brain kicking into overdrive as he tried to predict how the forthcoming encounter would go, but he did not have enough information to do more than come to the obvious conclusion that it was probably not going to go well for him.

The demonic Minotaur stopped about ten feet away from where Lelouch was hanging. Up close, he was quite the imposing sight standing at least 8 feet tall with biceps the size of Lelouch's head. His horns extended out from his head to about five feet in length. In his gigantic left hand were three long, wooden nails and a hammer. In his right hand was a leather bullwhip. He also had a double headed battle axe strapped across his back.

Lelouch briefly wondered if he was hallucinating this bizarre and impossible sight, but the sight before him was too detailed, too real. Lelouch forced himself to lift his head and look directly into the monster's surprisingly human, pale blue eyes.

He was not surprised when the creature spoke. It was almost to be expected in this outlandish new world he now inhabited.

In a booming voice and with clear diction that would have made Sir Ian McKellan proud, the creature said, "Mortal tyrant, you have undoubtedly realized by now that you have entered Lord Lucifer's domain, the realms of Hell! In life, you traded your soul for power. Power that you used to enslave and to kill. You have subverted the will of thousands for your own selfish gain! For your crimes, you have been sentenced to an eternity of suffering! Do you deny the justice of this punishment?"

Lelouch could not help but smile at the sight of his captor practically chewing the scenery as it spoke. Being a man prone to theatrics himself, he had to appreciate the effort. He was compelled to respond in kind.

He licked his dry, cracked lips. Lelouch was surprised that he still had enough spit to speak. He said hoarsely but clearly, "I do not deny my crimes. I do not deny my sins. But I do protest my sentence. A wise woman once told me that eternity is a very long time. Nobody deserves to suffer forever. That is not justice. That is merely sadism under the guise of virtue!"

"Self-serving words," the bull-headed demon said dismissively.

Lelouch tilted his head in acknowledgement of the other being's words. "Perhaps my words are self-serving. That does not make them false."

"Do you understand why you are here?"

Lelouch lifted his lips into a sardonic smile. He replied, "Because I saved the world?"

He didn't even see the monster move.

Flashes of pain radiated from his cheek from where the whip had struck. Lelouch had to grit his teeth to prevent himself from screaming in agony. Blood flowed down his face as he struggled to not to vomit from the pain. Not that there was anything in his stomach to expel.

"Enough talk! I have no more time for your foolishness, silver-tongued serpent!"

It appeared that the time for small talk had ended. Lelouch supposed that he should have just meekly submitted in the first place in the hope of not making matters worse for himself, but that would have gone against every grain of his being. Lelouch vi Britannia- no, Lelouch Lamperouge, may have been many things, but he was not a coward.

Almost in a daze, Lelouch watched as a nail was positioned just above the wrist, between the radius and the ulna. The monster held his hammer with his other arm cocked back, but he did not strike.

Was this pause for dramatic effect? No, this was simply an attempt to heighten his prisoner's fear and give him a chance to cry out for mercy.

Lelouch lifted his chin defiantly.

"No threats? No pleas? No elegant arguments about the injustice of it all?"

That genteel voice had suddenly turned vicious and eager. Those pale blue eyes didn't seem quite so human anymore. These were the eyes of a demon. Cold, merciless. It was like staring into a bottomless ocean.

But this was nothing compared to looking into the eyes of Charles vi Britannia.

Lelouch gave his best 'Vice President' smile as he said politely, "I would really appreciate it if you could just let me go and forget about this conversation. It would really mean a lot to me."

It was not the most dignified solution, but he had already determined that sarcasm was an effective way to tick the big oaf off, so he decided to run with it. Judging by the rage on that oaf's face, he had succeeded.

Lelouch's body tensed in anticipation of the blow that he knew was coming.

"Yes, sir."

With a casual yank, the bull-headed man pulled away the ropes binding Lelouch to the cross. He gently caught Lelouch as his body fell forward and set him on the ground. Still in complete shock, Lelouch could only watch as his demonic host then turned around and walked away as if... as if...

He had forgotten about him...

Was it possible that his Geass was still working even now? Was this more than simply a cruel trick? Even if a Geass could follow one into the afterlife, were his captors so incompetent that they couldn't have devised a simple countermeasure like a blindfold? Or had his initial theory been more correct than he realized and there really were so many souls pouring into Hell that his Geass had been completely overlooked?

While his mind furiously paced through the ramifications of what this all meant, Lelouch watched as the demon made a strange gesture with his right hand. Almost immediately, the desert air began to shimmer and warp until there was an archway of golden light appearing about ten feet away from where Lelouch was lying. It was similar to the strange outpouring of light that he had seen at the opening of the cave he had woken up in. He now knew what it was.

It was a portal.

Not even looking behind him, the demon walked into the light and vanished. The opening then began to slowly fade away.

Lelouch did not know how this was happening or why, but he could not allow this opportunity to pass. It should have been impossible for him to get to his feet, but spirit bodies were apparently even more resilient than he thought.

Walking on legs that were not as steady as he would have liked even as they were more steady than they should have been for a man in his emaciated condition, he made his way toward the shrinking portal. There was a very real possibility that this was an elaborate plot set up to maneuver him to throw himself into the next layer of torment and despair.

So be it.