Chapter 1: Wherein Gisburne awakes not knowing where he might be, but later believes to be sure of his whereabouts

Sir Guy was awakened by an infernal noise such as he had never before heard in his life. To be so abruptly roused from sleep made him snap his eyes open, but he immediately squeezed them shut again - in utter shock - for he was quite obviously not in his chamber, although he could remember having gone to bed there. Now, however, he found himself in a dark alley, of which at that very moment he could make out nothing more than that it was enclosed by high walls and littered with garbage. The air was filled with an indescribable noise, but also pregnant with an almost unbearable mixture of odors unknown to him. Although the term 'stench' seemed more appropriate to him.

The knight looked around in a state of disbelief as he had no explanation as to how he had gotten to here. But he had also no idea where 'here' could actually be, as there was nothing in this place that would provide him with an answer to that. In addition, the dreadful noise prevented him from forming a clear thought.

He struggled to get up from the damp and cold ground, only to discover that he too had been lying on the stinking garbage, which also was full of things he was unfamiliar with. Gisburne looked around once again, but he had to realize that this did not bring him any new insights - which bothered him more than he wanted to admit to himself. Finally, he thought to have a look at himself, noting that he was still wearing the very tunic he had slipped on yesterday after having taken his bath. He vaguely recalled that he had not managed to change into his night robe. Perhaps this was also due to the fact that he had assumed that he would have to exchange the garment for a clean one the following day anyway, since the Sheriff had thrown food at him - in one of his infamous fits of rage - and therefore the tunic now showed several clearly visible stains. It also stank of the wine that the knight had accidentally spilled on himself.

Gisburne was not in the least thrilled to find himself on some street in stained clothing. What kind of impression would he make on people he might run into. Then he realized all of a sudden that he probably would not manage to avoid this, for how else would he be able to figure out where he was. Gisburne could not suppress a sigh as he realized that he probably had no choice but to go in search of other people if he did not intend to stay in this awful place for an undetermined amount of time. And he definitely did not intend to do so.

He raised his head as he wanted to take another look before deciding which way to turn. He also had to keep in mind that the only blade he had with him was the small knife he used when eating. The uneasiness that had gripped him after waking up in this place was reinforced once more after he had to realize that neither sword nor dagger were attached to his belt.

One end of the alley was lost in darkness, but in the other direction there seemed to be an exit onto a better lit street, so he started moving towards that end. But he had only covered a few steps when he noticed that he was now also moving towards the source of the racket. Uncertain, he stopped yet again, only to glance in the other direction, where he could not make out very much. Nevertheless, he decided to head first to where it was not so loud and then moved warily in that direction.

But again, the knight was not allowed to get very far, for one of the larger piles of garbage he passed turned out to be a human being - after he had accidentally bumped it with his foot - who promptly leapt up, shrieking insufferably and at the same time throwing a hard object at him.

"What..." he went on, too dumbfounded to do more than deflect the object with his forearm, whereupon it shattered against the nearest wall. Had he just been attacked with something made of glass? Who would use something like that as a throwing object?

"That'sh my shbot," the person screeched and started throwing some of the stinky garbage at him that was littering the floor next to them. This time the knight was able to dodge.

"Scum," he roared in rage. Such an outburst would make the servants and soldiers in the castle blanch and tremble, but it did not seem to scare this person, attacking him for no reason at all. In the meantime, they had picked themselves up from the ground, only to come at him right away. As they drew closer, the knight could discern that it was a filthy woman wrapped in rags, which he had not been able to perceive earlier. Instantly he backed away, not because she frightened him, nor even as she was not a man - such a fact had never bothered him so far - but because a strange, cloying odor emanated from her that made him cough. Moreover, he had no need for any of the vermin that had surely infested her to jump over to him.

But since he would most likely not get past her without her lunging at him, he moved of necessity in the other direction while the woman screeched obscenities and vulgarities after him. He had already moved a good distance away from her before he realized that it was the unfamiliar surroundings that had unsettled him to such an extent that he did not want to mess with this mad woman. It could not be otherwise.

He picked his way carefully amidst the indefinable filth that littered the ground and breathed a sigh of relief as he finally approached this end of the alley. However, he deduced this mostly from the increasing noise level, as he kept his eyes downward to avoid stepping with bare feet into anything vile or something that could injure him.

Most likely this was the reason that the shock about what he could behold, when he had more than just the alley he was standing in in his sight, was so strong that for a moment he was at a loss as to what to do. He found himself unable to stop his forward motion, and so he stumbled out onto another street while staring wide-eyed at the people hurrying past him at a brisk pace. After a few steps, he had nevertheless come to a halt and now presented something of an obstacle to the people who were rushing past him from both directions. Most of them addressed him with a few words, none of which he could understand. According to the tone of voice, however, these were without exception insults. He was so sure in this regard, however, mainly for the reason that in their stead he would also have insulted the one who stood in his way in such a manner.

But at that very moment he did not care about these people at all, for he was incapable of doing more than staring at the deviltries that were moving along the road. He had not the slightest idea what these things could be that were moving past him at the speed of a galloping horse, but he was sure that these ... these ... things had to be the source of the noise that had been tormenting him since the very first moment he had been in this place.

Then, all of a sudden, he noticed that there were people within these ... things - whatever these were - obviously trapped inside them and unable to escape at this speed. Rather abruptly, Gisburne realized what had happened to him. For some reason he must have died during the night and ended up in Hell for all the stuff Sir Edmund had made him do, for all the crimes he had had to commit for the Sheriff, and all the other things he had been doing out of revenge or envy or jealousy. It could not be any other way, for this place here was so horrible that it could only be Hell. Moreover, he had not had a chance to confess his sins before his death.

"Lord," he exclaimed, unable to keep still. "I am damned. Trapped in Hell for all eternity!"

The shock about this realization was so great that he was no longer able to stay on his feet and quite suddenly he therefore found himself on his knees and was now even more of an obstacle for the rest of the damned - who were apparently forced to move without ceasing - for they were now no longer able to spot him in time so that they could avoid him. The first ones had already bumped into him, which led to the fact that they now cursed at him all the louder. And it would not stop there, for now he was being kicked and punched as well. But he hardly noticed anything of this, for he was firmly in the grip of the fear of being doomed to eternal damnation. Everything else was beside the point.

Nevertheless, the remarks made by the other people reached him by and by. "Another one of those drunks." "He must be crazy." "Bloody hell!" "Does he really have to block my way." "What's he wearing?" "Why doesn't someone call the police?"

Versions of these utterances were repeated over and over again, sometimes more and sometimes less comprehensible. Oddly enough, he would always grasp less of the meaning when he tried to focus on the other people and more when he turned his attention back to these ... things that raced past him incessantly. But even the words he could understand remained meaningless to him. But in fact, he did not care, for he had been doomed to eternal damnation.

He was so preoccupied with the mess he had found himself in that he had not noticed that some people were not just passing him by, but had instead stopped. When he then looked up, he realized that he had been encircled and at that moment he was seized with panic. He leapt up and tried to break out of the circle, not wanting to be at the mercy of these devils - he was firmly convinced that the others could only be anything like that. He did not even consider that he would not be able to escape from Hell itself. He just wanted to get away.

But he was not to succeed, for his way was blocked. When the knight tried to push one of the devils aside, he was grabbed and held by two others. The more he tried to break free, the tighter they seized him and twisted his arms behind his back. In this manner, they finally forced him to his knees and then even further down until he was lying on the ground with his face pressed into the dirt of the street. The devils were now not only holding his arms, but also putting pressure on his back and restraining his legs. It did not take much time before he was no longer able to move and then he even had trouble breathing for a few moments. The hold of his attackers was so tight that he finally could not avoid screaming out in pain after he was able to breathe once again. But that did not stop him from further trying to shake off those who held him. He had no intention of surrendering, even to Satan's minions.

"Leave me alone, you Devils! Get your hands off me, I'm a knight and deputy to the Sheriff." Despite the enormous rage that had overcome him, he could not manage to shout out these words, but could only whisper them, and the only reaction he elicited from the other ones was laughter.

All at once he felt another pair of hands on the back of his neck, and then there was a short, sharp pain, as if someone had pierced his skin with the tip of a dagger. 'This is the end,' he thought, without finding it odd to imagine that he could perish in Hell a second time, for at that very moment he had forgotten that he had to be dead to have gotten here.

But death did not come, instead a cold sensation spread through his body starting from the stab wound and bringing with it a certain apathy. All of a sudden, Gisburne considered it too much of an effort to continue resisting. It was simply not worth the exertion he had to put into it.

He did not try to escape even when the devils finally released him. The knight just remained lying on the ground, although it had not been long since he had tried to break free. Now he did not care about anything.

"Strange guy," one of his attackers uttered. Not being interested anymore in the other ones, Gisburne could now understand once again what they were saying.

"What's he wearing?" another questioned.

"He reeks!" a third remarked with contempt.

"The ... homeless all reek, don't they," replied yet another. "This one also reeks of booze, which doesn't surprise me. But who knows what else he's taken to make him freak out like that."

Once again it was the case that Gisburne could hear the words, but did not understand them. But that did not bother him either. It was just enough for him to lie here.

But he was not permitted to do so.

"We have the clearance to take him to the Psychiatric Center. The car has already arrived," one of the devils stated, and soon the knight was pulled up until he ended up standing. Although he would have preferred to stay lying down, he did not resist either, for it seemed too strenuous. But he also did not try to fathom what the others were saying. Instead, he was occupied with the task of just standing, and he realized that it was difficult for him to do this on his own. Therefore, he considered it quite helpful that two of the devils were propping him up.

But then there was another moment when he tried to flex his muscles, and that was when he discovered that he was being led to one of those ... things that he had seen racing down the street. However, the one he was taken to was not moving, and furthermore, one of its sides had been opened so that he was able to look into it. A touch of panic came over him at this sight, but in the end it did not change anything, for he could not stop the others from taking him to this ... thing.

"Schhh...," one of them even attempted to calm him then. "They'll take care of you at the center. Then you'll soon feel better." Gisburne did not quite grasp what he was trying to tell him, but he did not ask either, as this apathy still had a hold on him. Perhaps that was why he failed to notice how odd the idea was that a devil in Hell would try to calm him. Instead, he allowed himself to be maneuvered inside this ... thing - without resisting any further - where he was then helped to lie down on a narrow and hard cot. At this point, he did not even care that he was being tied onto it.

"I'm going to put him to sleep for a while," issued one of the devils who had already been within the ... thing. The knight was still able to notice that he looked different from his attackers. These were all dressed in the same dark pants with matching short shirts, which made it difficult to tell them apart. Those who had been inside the ... thing, on the other hand, wore some sort of shirt in such a garish bright red that the knight feared he would suffer pain just from fixing his eyes on it. But he lacked the strength to deal with this any longer, just as he lacked the strength to reflect on what these words could mean.

He only noticed that one of the sleeves of his tunic was pushed up, whereupon he felt something moist on his bare arm and then once again this short, sharp pain as he had felt before. Right after that he experienced his eyelids getting so heavy that he could no longer keep his eyes open. Afterwards he did not register anything more.