Prologue

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The sunrise was beautiful, and Arthur knew it was the last he'd ever see. He had always wanted to go out like this, and in some ways he was lucky, considering the people in this kind of life did not get this fortunate. He had done all he could, pushed himself enough and he hoped John and his family wouldn't let it all go to waste.

Life was leaving his body, and he finally let go.

For a moment that seemed no longer than a second, he woke up. Arthur looked around and saw a beach, like the one in Guarma, but there was something off. There was no sun, and everything looked unnaturally grey. This left him very confused, as it did not match the fiery image he had of hell. He knew damn well he wasn't headed towards heaven, and made no mistake of even pretending that he was. He laughed for a while, feeling like a he'd been sold a false bill of goods, like he had told Mrs. Downes once. But still, it had to be hell. Getting up on his feet, he decided to take a walk and get used to his new home.

The beach may be unnatural, but Arthur enjoyed the peace and quiet. Being dead, he could do nothing about the people he left behind, so his mind wasn't on his life anymore. He wandered around like a lost soul with no purpose, just taking in the sights as they came. If not fiery torment, then the purpose of hell must've been utter isolation. He couldn't see anyone else, and figured he must be alone.

In the middle of some journey without a destination, he heard people talking. Looking back, he saw a large group that had materialized out of nowhere. They looked unnatural and grey and Arthur could swear he saw familiar faces in them.

"Hello!" he yelled, but no one answered. Everyone seemed to be in their own thoughts. Arthur approached the group, yet none showed any sign of acknowledgment. "Hey mister?" he touched one, and his hand was covered in pitch black tar, which he tried to wipe but to no avail. "What the hell?"

And then, his feet were covered in the same tar. Figures appeared from it, resembling men but covered from the head to toe in that tar, and grabbed him. "Let go you freaks!" Arthur tried to get them off him, but they were too strong. He was being dragged under, and his mind was getting numb. Was this the actual beginning of hell? Had the bill of his criminal life finally come due? Despite all his efforts to the contrary, he sunk down the bottomless pit and closed his eyes. The next thing he saw was mountains, and a man in white approaching as he passed out.

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He woke up to a buzzing sound, something he couldn't quite recognize. What he immediately noticed was the way in which he woke up. Gone was the constant exhaustion and pain as he breathed, on account of tuberculosis. He felt just as he had done before the day he went to see Thomas Downes. That, however, would turn out to be the least strange thing compared to the other stuff he was seeing. The room was unusually clean, and filled with things unrecognizable. Arthur's bed wasn't made of cotton or wool, but some strange fabric. The entire design of things scattered around and the room itself was eerie. What seemed like electric bulbs were pure white and stretched out like tubes, and on the wall were several photographs, in color!

"You're up. Good." came a voice from outside the room. Arthur's hand went to his holster but nothing was there. A man entered, the same age as him from the looks of it. His clothes were normal enough, but on his chest was a strange yellow box.

"Who're you?" Arthur asked, ready for a fight.

"I could ask you the same thing." the man replied. "But first off, do you mind telling me what year is it?"

The question was strange. "What for?" Arthur asked.

"Just need to clear some stuff up." the man answered.

"1899." Arthur stated. The man smirked.

"So my theory was true. What a marvelous thing!" he said. "I'm Heartman."

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