DISCLAIMER: This fanfic is NOT reflective of any views the author personally has of others, nor to attack anyone with similar or contrary beliefs. This whole thing is literally just some dumb fun to take a nice break from my usual stuff. I do update my chapters every so often. I'm just letting you know.
There are small levels of juxtaposition from my end, but is otherwise nothing more than harmless banter.
Some details are going to be wrong because I can't really spend too much time on the wiki (and the wiki is not as good as I'd prefer), so forgive me if details don't line up 1 to 1 w/ the lore, but you're also free to point these mistakes out as I release chapters so I may fix them when I have time! Thank you for understanding.
Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1 - Meet Church
DAY 1 – HEAVEN DON'T CRY
"WHAT WAS MY SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" He fell through the clouds, plummeting into the realm below.
"Don't worry! Your family is in good company!" A red-pinkish haired, overalls-wearing cherub yelled down through the hole.
"-IIIIN?!" Church took a breath as he continued falling endlessly.
"AAAAAAAAAAAA- *COUGH* HACK* *EUGH* COUGH*" He passed through a thick smog.
"What the- HELL?!" He arrived.
"OH GOD I SEE THE BOTTO-"
*CRASH* He fell through the roof.
"OW!"
*CRASH* He fell through the floor below the roof.
"Oof!"
*CRASH* And then the floor beneath that.
"ACK!"
*CRASH* He plowed face-first into the floor below that one.
"... OW!"
Church spent the next few moments violently coughing, dizzily spinning, and trying to dust himself off as he evacuated the dust from his lungs.
"At least Dad's necklace is okay!" Church clutched onto the Rosary before giving it a kiss on the silver crucifix.
"Aw ff-, for-f-…-ACK! What the hell happened?!" He managed to catch his breath, greeted by the framed sight of the most hideous looking weirdo he's ever seen in his life (who was ALSO coughing, dizzy, and trying to dust itself off).
Church stared at the being for a moment.
If he didn't have a friend that raised open-roaming sheep, he would've never had any idea what type of horns those were attached to the weirdo's head, curving down behind the ears, almost hugging the area between his jaw and neck.
"What type of white-horned ram has thin, black stripes around them? Also, what's that thing sticking out of its-"
Church shook himself out of it and reached for his pocket that he realized wasn't there. Instead, he found something sticking out of his posterior that at the end, bore the shape of the card-suite equivalent of a "club".
He chased the strange appendage for a couple rotations before noticing the thing in the mirror doing the exact same things and having the exact same reactions.
Church made eye contact with the creature, who did likewise back to him.
"… OH, NO!" Church despaired in realization that what he was looking at, was indeed NOT a square hole in the wall.
"Oh no. That thing is me. OH, FUCKING NO! THAT THING IS ME?!" He stared at himself for a moment, grabbing himself by his hair.
His hair was combed into a cool looking Viking-cut that his ears poked-out of, so that was fine. His eyes didn't get clapped too hard into the edgy domain, being a golden-ish, yellow color, save a cross-shaped scar that cut from his right eyebrow from his hairline down to his jaw (which would've been cool if Church asked to have kept it instead if it just being there without his consent). Overall appearance-wise, he didn't seem to look too-overwhelmingly unrecognizably different than he did when he was alive, keeping a lot of the same proportions and shapes, which was appreciated, considering a very specific proportion he was sensitive about.
Other than these remained a small, not-so unobvious problem.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" Church needed a moment, but then the door behind him opened.
"What the f- OH GOD MY CLOTHES!" Church aimed for the nearest object and covered his groin with it.
The person that walked in on him was a short stack, borderline small creature that appeared to have a feminine dimorphism, black horns with thin, white stripes around them, protruding from her head.
"… Uh-…" The imp seemed to have just as much an idea to react as Church did.
"... Hi!" Church waved with a free hand.
"Do you have any spare clothes?" He pleaded with a forced smile.
The imp looked around the room. Once she realized no one else was there than them, she closed the door behind her and started blushing.
"Uhm… Clothes? I need some clothes?" Church looked up, seeing the hole he left in the ceiling.
"Damn, kid! How old were you?"
"How old am-"
*Unzip*
Church's pupils shrank to the size of a pea upon realization of what she meant.
"Eighteen."
"Oh, okay then!"
*Re-zip*
"Anyway, *AHEM*!" She cleared her throat.
Church: *INTERNALLY SCREAMS IN A-SEXUAL*
"Anyways, yeah! I can get you some, but I need a favor." She tried again, but with MUCH more subtlety than her initial attempt.
"What?" Church didn't want to know the answer.
The imp pulled out a measuring stick, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin on her face Church had seen in his (un)life, and then licked her lips.
Church: *MORE INTERNAL SCREAMING*
"I'm just dicking with you, darling!" She put the meter-stick back down.
"But can I get your father's number? Cuz I am 2! Old! 4! You!" She waved her hips back and forth, trying to tantalize him.
"Screw off! What the hell is going on here?!" Church got psyched-out.
"He's not in the afterlife yet."
She smacked her lips.
"Damn! Well, it was worth a shot." The imp sighed, almost disappointed.
Church sighed in relief.
"Oh, thank f-…-king God! I think she's going to leave me alone."
"But I would've preferred you took yours, deep inside me!" She winked, seductively rubbing her hips between themselves again.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!" Church shook himself out of it.
"Miss! Please! Clothe-" He felt something smack his face.
"I have a nice pair of men's pants and a dress shirt, fit for someone your size. That's all you get!"
"Thank you!" Church didn't hesitate to put them on, but then he smelled them.
"Gasoline?"
"Don't mind the smell, honey! That's just deodorant from my ex!"
"Who-?! WHO THE FUCK USES GASOLINE-SCENTED DEODORANT?! Oh, fuck I can't complain! I just gotta put these on and fuck-off out of here!" Church put on the pants as the imp watched.
"Of course, if you want more, you know where I work!" She flirted again.
"I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS BULLSHIT!" Church got the shirt on and got to buttoning it up.
"Thank you miss, but not now!" He passed by her and walked out the door.
"If you change your mind, don't worry. I'll find you!"
"I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS BULLSHIT!" Church repeated the phrase, picking up his pace.
"Okay. It looks like a hallway. There's an elevator over there, but a stairway over-"
*DING* A pair of elevator doors opened. Brimstone smoke summoned itself from its gaps, darkening the hallway with a smog-like atmosphere.
"DID YOU FALL THROUGH MY FUCKING ROOF?!"
"Not that way!" Church sprinted for the stairwell.
"I'LL SHOW YOU THE LIFE OF THE MIND!"
Church didn't know who or what was behind him, but fuck-all if he was going to find out!
He pitched himself through the stairwell door head-first as hard as he could-...
"Oh, for FUCK SAKE!" -And overshot the actual stairs, falling down the stairwell.
*PONG*
And probably giving himself a concussion along the way.
Church fumbled in freefall until he finally caught one of the rails.
"Oh, Finally!"
And then his grip slipped.
"OH FUCK OFF, NARRATOR-"
*PONG*, *PONG*, *DING*, PONG*
Eventually, he ran out of stairs to fall down.
"… Ow!" He got up and dusted himself off (again).
"At least I have clothes now!"
Church wasn't very smart, but judging from the big, giant 01 painted on the side of the wall, it seemed that he had… "made" his way to the first floor. Considering the absurdity of the damage he had just recently took, Church was shocked to find that he wasn't bleeding – not even a headache.
"Alright, let's get out of-" He opened up the door out of the stairwell.
It opened up into some sort of lobby area.
"… Here?!"
The place was CROWDED with different looking creatures. With all of them, Church noticed an overlapping theme.
"Oh wait, that's why." He remembered that he was in Hell.
"Oh God, this HAS to be a bad fever dream-" Church smelled the brimstone smoke from earlier above him.
"BUT I'M NOT FINDING OUT HERE!" He walked out the door, hoping like mad he'd just blend into the crowd.
"Uhm… Uhm… Aha. There's the door out of- *OOF*!" Someone collided with him.
"Watch it, punk!" A white and pink spider-looking resident with a weird, black-and-red eye combo collided into him. Church couldn't make heads or tails of any further details beyond him(?) being dressed in drag.
"Sorry!" He tried to blend back into the crowd again, making his way to the big lobby doors.
"Shit, I don't want to make a scene. I NEED TO GO!" He managed to make it to the lobby doors and exit the building without further accident, into what looked like the middle of some sort of city.
"Okay! Now to- OOF!" Another demon collided into him.
"Get lost, punk!"
"Gladly!" Church picked himself up and started walking down the sidewalk. After roughly a minute of walking, he realized he was still holding onto the object he was using as covering from earlier.
"Did I just accidentally steal someone's important documents and use them to cover myself, then escape with them without realizing I did that?!"
There was a bench nearby, so he took a seat.
"How did I manage to keep hold of these while falling down the stairwell?!"
And then a car came by, splashing Church with liquid from the gutter, interrupting his thoughts.
"… Narrator, I really, REALLY hate you right now!"
But at least the random folder of documents he stole were fine.
"Right, because OF COURSE they'd be!" Church got up from the bench and kept walking.
"Where can I find a place to- yeah, under that bridge seems pretty isolated." Church started walking.
"What the hell. I didn't even mean to take this. I just forgot I was holding onto it!" He took a seat on the brimstone cement, crossed his legs, and started browsing through the folder.
The first page had a bunch of names and an amount of cash next to them, along with some sort of business card with no contact information.
On the card, the letters I.M.P. were stamped in black, with a red outline, with the "M" resembling male(?) imp horns, within some sort of red circle on a fancy grey-gradient card.
"Is I.M.P. an acronym for somethi-"
IMMEDIATE MURDER PROFESSIONALS was written in red letters right below it.
Church sighed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.
"… Fucking fine. Okay." He flipped the page, not thinking anything of either the card or the names with cash numbers next to them.
Next was a picture of some dude Church never met before in his life but somehow still looked familiar. There was a bunch of details that Church skimmed over.
"… Is this a profile?" He skimmed through the portfolio, flipping through the pages.
Another profile. Same reaction.
"Did I just steal some shmuck's hiring portfolio?!" He continued flipping through the pages.
Same thing, different person each time.
"The hell am I supposed to be looking at?!" Church closed the file and took a deep breath.
"So… I'm in hell now, I don't know where I am, I have somebody's portfolio of people and I have no idea why I even have it, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do or where to go!" Church took a deep breath and went to adjust his collar, realizing something was hanging around his neck.
"Oh. Yeah. At least I got you. Eh, buddy?" Church commented as he tucked the Rosary into his shirt in some better-than-nothing method to hide it.
He rubbed his face, eyes, then as he moved to rub his hair, he forgot his horns were there and got his sleeves tangled in them.
"Fan-fucking-tastic!" Church got himself unstuck and looked up at the blood red sky as a giant pentagram and a ball of clouds hovered far away like celestial bodies.
"I need some rest before I collapse." He tucked himself under the bridge and tried to use the file like a pillow.
"I'll figure this all out once I get up." Church tried to get some shuteye.
DAY 2 – CUT TO FIT
"Oi! Get up!"
"OOF!" Church felt something impact his chest, waking him instantly.
"Get up."
"Oh for God sake, what fucking now?!" He dusted himself off.
"Money. Now." An imp-thing stuck a knife in his face – by the looks, build, and had white horns with black stripes, Church took a lucky guess that this was a dude.
"Sure, fine then!" Church reached into his empty pockets and turned them inside-out.
"Oh look! What's fucking this?! The guy sleeping under a fucking bridge and doesn't even have shoes has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!" Church was visibly losing his patience.
"The fuck were you expecting?!" He raised his voice at the mugger.
The imp clobbered Church in the stomach, hard, sending him to his knees.
"Either get a job or join the club, pal!" He turned around and started walking away.
Church took a moment on his knees.
"The FUCK was that all about?!" He pushed himself up, taking the portfolio with him.
"At least he didn't question why I had the folder! That's fucking nice!" Church picked the opposite direction of the imp that mugged him and started walking down it.
"Fucking DICK!" He mumbled to himself.
"Who the fuck goes around, mugging people under bridges, then has the fucking gall to tell them to get a job?! Fucking FUCKER OF A MOTHERF-" Church held his gut, still sore from the encounter.
He continued down the sidewalk for a while, finding himself in some sort of downtown area.
"Get a job, huh? Alright. This place has a billion-or-so businesses in it, by the looks. How hard can it be to find ONE JOB in this cesspool of-"
He entered one of the buildings, not realizing what it was.
"-… Sin?!" He was in the red-light district.
"Hey sugar. What can I get you?" The demon proposing him was a half-naked, muscleman, Gachimuchi-looking waiter.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, I've already been hit on once! I don't need Mr. Van Darkholme here, putting me through that again!"
"No thanks. I'm fine!" Church walked right out the door and didn't look back.
"Okay, THAT was a fucking disaster. What about THIS one?" He walked into the next establishment.
"Okay! A casino! Reminds me of the native resort my dad took me to in Hinkley, back when I was alive. How can working here POSSIBLY go wrong?"
Church walked up to the front desk. The secretary was a big-ass jet-black bloodhound, dressed in a sharp suit that stood head and shoulders above Church.
"Guy looks like an edgy furafinnity character that went through a glow-up meme, but I don;t judge! The guy looks pretty cool." Church cleared his throat.
"Hello sir, do you have any job applications?" He smiled and put on his best first impression.
"No."
Church blinked, staring blankly.
"… Uh-… Okay. Well-"
"We're not hiring." The secretary added.
"… Okay then." Church walked away.
"Okay, that went to shit!" Church folded his arms and tried to assess more options.
"At least the guy was nice enough to NOT hit on me. That was a good change of pace!" He awkwardly acknowledged.
"Okay. This looks like another bar. Please, for the love of fucking God, please DON'T be another gay strip joint! I've dealt with enough seedy bullshit for now, I think!" He opened the door and walked in.
"Oh wow. This bar actually looks like something I wouldn't mind getting caught in by my parents back when I was alive - not that I ever did. Just saying!" Church nodded in approval, walking up to the bar.
He took his seat next to what looked like an emo-dressed female demon watching videos on her phone. Church didn't care. He was just here for a-
"Is that a fucking phone?! THEY HAVE PHONES IN HELL?!" Church double-took.
Her phone emitted some sort of car-crashing noises.
"How the hell does she have a phone- wait! THERE'S CELL SERVICE?!"
"Ay, kid. What can I get you?" The bartender – a spider demon came up and asked Church.
He gave off none of the vibes of the weird white-and-pink one he ran into yesterday.
"Hey, yes! I'm new here. Can I-"
"Fucking hell! That vehicle got flattened like a-" The demon-girl on her phone burst into laughter as an explosion noise played from the device.
She seemed to be really invested in whatever video was playing on the phone.
"Wait. Wait a fucking moment. Is she-?!" Church just realized what she was watching.
"The gas station just fucking explodes! The timing of it all is just amazing!" She laughed like it was the best thing she's ever seen in her life.
"What is she watching?" Church had a bad tingling sensation in the back of his head.
"Watching the recent hit, girl?" The bartender asked.
"Yea! Whoever the poor bastard was that the hit was on didn't stand a chance! Did you see the gas station explosion?!"
Church froze. His pupils shrank to the size of peas.
"A fucking WHAT?!" He processed what she just said.
"Ah, damn. I could watch this all day! This is just funny as shit. Poor fuckers in the car got FLATTENED!" She set the phone down and lit a cigarette.
"Sinstagram be damned if I don't have the app just for this!" She breathed in and puffed out the smoke.
"AND THERE'S SOCIAL MEDIA DOWN HERE AS WELL?!" Church sat dead in his seat, trying to keep from losing his shit for the third-or-so time.
"Eh! Ironically tame for a semi-truck full of explosives if you ask me - all things considered!" The Bartender refilled her drink.
"TAME?! EXPLOSIVES?!" Church reached into the portfolio and pulled out the page with the business card, looking at it again.
"Hey, uh… Would these guys happen to have anything to do with it? He pulled out the card and showed it to the bartender.
"Imp? Huh, I dunno! I.M.P. could have been behind the hit, but I ain't saying anything!" The bartender enthusiastically shrugged.
"WHO THE FUCK COULD'VE THE HIT BEEN ON?!" Church stuck the business card back into the portfolio.
"I'd like to think Blitzo would've killed more than twelve people with that semi. Wouldn't be too much trouble to give him some extra cash and a free pass on collateral!" The demon-girl with the phone remarked.
"Oh, only twelve people? Wow. Okay, that narrows it-" Church then processed everything on what these two had just said, and it violently collided with something he knew.
"That can't be right! I was WITH Twelve people before I got yeeted down into here, and they all died in that same accident which means-"
"Thirteen!" Church blurted.
Pause.
"I beg your pardon?" The bartender raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you say that?" The demon-girl chipped in, taking another puff from her cigarette.
"It wasn't Twelve. It was Thirteen!"
Church didn't know it yet, but every demon in that bar was staring at him like an idiot.
"Play the video again. I was there! I died in that car that got flattened by the- WHO THE FUCK IS BLITZ?!" Church didn't know the "O" was silent.
The bartender wasn't saying anything.
The girl played the video again and showed it to Church.
Church cringed as his perspective in memory of the event haunted him.
"Watch right there! That end of the car right after it gets flattened!" He pointed, then turned his head away.
The semi plows into the car, then the car and semi plow into the gas station, then after a moment passes, one of the windows of the car is pushed out, but then the semi and gas station explode into an inferno.
"RIGHT THERE! I'M RIGHT THERE!"
"Wait, that guy trapped in the car that's screaming and on fire is YOU?!"
"YES!" Church vented.
A gunshot noise played, then the ablaze figure dropped dead, still half-hanging out of the car.
Silence.
"That was me! I'm not crazy! I died in that fire, and there were twelve people with me when we all died!" Church pointed at the phone and yelled to everyone in the bar.
Dead silence.
"Wow! Whole new meaning to "Go die in a fire", am I right?"
The bar burst into laughter, including the bartender and the demon-girl.
Church's scarred eye twitched. He headed for the exit, once again a hair's breadth away from losing his shit.
Of everyone in that bar that was laughing, Church didn't see the one that didn't join in.
Church exited the building and walked into the nearest alleyway.
The bartender's phone rang.
. . .
Church stood in the alleyway for a moment, taking in a deep breath.
"RRRRRRRR! GOD! FUCK IT!" He kicked the garbage bin so hard, it slammed into the building.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" The panic from those moments seized him.
He was not happy to have relive those final moments of his life like that, much less with literal demons laughing at how cartoonish the whole affair was.
"FUCKING BURNS! IT FUCKING - FUCKING BURNS! IT BURNS!" He kicked and stomped on the trash can over and over, letting it all out.
He didn't know why, but the alleyway seemed brighter for some reason. He didn't notice.
"GOD! FUCK! DAMNIT! FUCK-FUCKING DAMNIT!"
By the time he was done kicking the trash can, it was effectively a stain on the brimstone asphalt.
Church looked up at the blood-red sky.
"THE FUCK DID I FUCKING DO?!"
He grabbed himself by his ram horns and yanked himself towards his stomach.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUCK! FUUUUCK!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.
Reflexively, he found a second garbage canister and head-butted it upwards as hard as he could.
The light of the alleyway was gone like a light switch as Church straightened himself out.
"Okay! I'm normal now!" He lied to himself, dusting himself off and taking another deep breath.
He noticed a pair of demons gawking at him from the street.
"The hell are you looking at?!" He barked at them.
*CRASH* The garbage can landed behind Church, crushing itself under its own weight. Church looked at it, then just rolled his eyes with a sigh.
The pair of demons on the other hand, speedily carried on their not-so-merry way.
"… Right!" Church headed back toward the bar, opening the door, triggering its bell.
He walked back up to his spot, next to the demon-girl.
"Yea. It's no problem!" The Bartender hung up the phone, keeping an eye on Church.
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where I can learn more about that hit – the one I was killed in?"
"Only what I showed you." She simply shrugged, checking her Sinstagram.
"Right. Well, it was worth asking about. Thank you for your time." Church recollected the portfolio he accidentally stole and headed back out.
He forgot the business card on the bar. No one spoke a word as he exited.
"Alright. Next business! Let's see if they-" Church walked in, seeing the secretary just get off the phone.
"Not hiring!"
Church nodded his head, politely walked out, and checked the next business. He saw the front desk person look at him and hang up the phone.
"Oh, that's con-"
*SLAM!*
The desk person used magic to slam the door right into Church's face.
"… Okay. Maybe Fifth time's the charm?" He lost count, going next door.
"Sorry man. Just got the guy I needed! Try next door."
Church went next door.
"Oh! Okay! Cool! It's one of those towers with multiple businesses in them. Out of four, how bad can my chances be?" Church walked in with some level of confidence.
First floor – Nope.
"FUCK!"
Second floor – Nope.
"THIS!"
Third floor – Nope.
"HORSE!"
Fourth floor – same story.
"SHIT!"
Church walked out of the building.
"HOW THE FUCK ARE THERE SO MANY PEOPLE WORKING AT EVERYWHERE?!" Church blurted at the top of his lungs.
"Okay! No. Don't panic! I've clearly just not applied at enough jobs yet. There's still like a billion places here! Surely someone, SOMEWHERE has a regular job I can do and earn myself at least a place to stay for the night, because my back can't take sleeping on the damn concrete again!"
Church took a deep breath, fixed his shirt, and tried again.
ONE LONG AMOUNT OF TIME AND SEVERAL DECLINED JOB APPLICATIONS LATER
It was now dark.
Church had no idea how Hell's day/night cycles worked, and he didn't care how they worked.
"I'm exhausted again. I don't want to get mugged, AGAIN. I have NO money! The clothes on my back aren't even mine, and I learned that what killed me wasn't a car accident – nor the fact I was set on fucking fire, but a fucking bullet! BECAUSE OF COURSE IT WAS!" Church re-capped.
"Yea! Small detail I kinda missed: Turns out, Hell has been around for so long, and is so fucking full, that any job that could be taken, HAS been taken, because OF FUCKING COURSE HELL HAS AN OVERPOPULATION PROBLEM! WHY THE FUCK WOULDN'T IT?"
Church smiled and started laughing like an idiot, then snapped into rage.
"HOW THE FUCK DOES HELL HAVE AN OVERPOPULATION PROBLEM?! IT'S A FUCKING AFTERLIFE! HOW THE FUCK CAN AN AFTERLIFE HAVE TOO MANY PEOPLE IN IT?!" He then snapped back to a despaired calm again.
Church groaned and stuck his hands in his pockets, keeping the portfolio close to his person.
"Some of these dumpsters don't smell too bad. I could probably find something serviceable. It'll keep me concealed from more dipshits that think I have anything worth taking - other than this portfolio." Church headed into the alleyways and started looking.
DAY 3 – SLIGHT THE ODDS
*Ping* *ping* *ping*
"What the hell?" Church woke up.
*Ping* *Ping* *Ping*
Pause.
*Ping* *Ping* *Ping*
"Is that knocking?!" Church stirred and peeked out of the dumpster.
Sure enough, A Sinner-Demon with male dimorphism, but female black-with-white-striped horns stood outside.
*Ping* *Ping* *Ping*
"Hey, I, uh… Hello?" The voice sounded like a young guy, which did not help Church's already bad attitude towards everything at the moment.
"… Right. Yes. Very fucking funny, Mr. Narrator. It wasn't enough to watch my family make it to heaven while I'm the fucking reject, then get sexually proposed by a random secretary, then find out my death was part of a random fucking hit, TO WHICH EVERYONE LAUGHS AT! And now THIS FUCKING HORSESHIT!" Church fell back into the dumpster, putting a garbage bag he was using as a pillow to his face and hit himself as hard as he could.
*Ping* *Ping* *Ping*
"*Groan* I can't deal with this right now!" He hit himself in the face through the bag again.
*Ping* *Ping* *Ping* The knocking continued.
"Just fuck off! I don't want anything!" Church tried to put the bag back under his head, but it caught on his ram horns and just ripped, leaving him covered in trash.
*Ping* *Ping* *Ping*
"Oh, Fuck's sake. My demonophobia was bad enough when I arrived here, now I can't get away from ANYONE! AND I'M IN LITERAL FUCKING HELL! EVERYONE'S EITHER A FUCKING DEMON OR LOOKS LIKE AN EDGY OC!" Church snapped.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND HOW THE FUCK DID YOU FIND ME?!"
Silence.
"Holy shit I think I finally-"
"Hey, uh-… You forgot this at the bar!" The sinner held up the I.M.P business card.
"One of my coworkers is a Hellhound, so I just gave him this card, and that's how I found you."
Church just laid in the dumpster, covered in trash.
"Look, mate." The sinner-demon leaned against Church's dumpster, taking out a roll-up and a lighter.
"I saw you job hunting yesterday, and I can tell you're a… recent arrival, I assume?"
"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT IT! I just want everyone and everything to fuck off and leave me alone! I'm fucking tired of this! I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE LIFE I HAD!"
"Literally or metaphorically?"
"YES!"
The gender ambiguous sinner-demon lit the cigarette and inhaled.
"Yeah, I've been there, friend."
"I AIN'T YOUR FUCKING FRIEND! YOU DON'T KNOW ME, AND I SURE AS FUCK AIN'T WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! I'VE FUCKING WALKED ON EGGSHELLS MY WHOLE LIFE AND I'M DONE WITH THAT! I'M FUCKING NOT DOING IT NOW I'M FUCKING HERE!" Church's voice reverberated within the dumpster so loudly, it was surprising his voice didn't go out.
"Go ahead and call me the 'insert unpopular phobia-of-the-week' and post on your STUPID social medias, and bitch and moan to your FUCKING heart's content, because the jokes on you - I don't have a fucking social media for you to cancel me on, and I'm not walking on fucking eggshells again, FOR FUCKING ANYONE, EVER FUCKING AGAIN! SO JUST PISS OFF!"
The sinner demon inhaled another whiff from the cigarette.
"Mate, I get you. I'm not mad at you. Tell me what's wrong, man."
"What's wrong?! WHAT'S WRONG?! EVERYTHING IS FUCKING WRONG! MY FAMILY IS IN HEAVEN AND I'M NEVER GOING TO FUCKING SEE THEM AGAIN, I'VE BEEN DAMNED HERE AND WAS NEVER TOLD WHAT THE FUCK I DID WRONG, AND MY DEATH WAS SO IMPOSSIBLY FUCKING CARTOONY, I CAN'T SHARE HOW THE FUCK I WAS FUCKING MURDERED WITHOUT EVERYONE FUCKING LAUGHING ABOUT IT! IT FUCKING HURTS! AND OF FUCKING COURSE HELL HAS AN OVERPOPULATION PROBLEM, 'CAUSE WHY THE FUCK WOULDN'T IT?!"
Church took a breath.
"I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS SHIT! I'M SICK OF TRYING REALLY HARD AND HAVE EVERYTHING BE FOR FUCKING NOTHING! I FUCKING GAVE EVERYTHING FOR EVERYONE WHILE I WAS FUCKING ALIVE, AND SOME FUCKING HOW, I'M HERE IN HELL BEING PUNISHED FOR FUCK-KNOWS WHAT, AND THERE'S NO ONE FUCKING ELSE I CAN TALK TO, and I have NOWHERE TO FUCKING GO!"
The sinner demon continued silently listening, breathing in the cigarette.
"I just woke up in the FUCKING SCORCHING BULL SHIT, 'cause now I live in a SHITHOLE! You know what I mean?! HELL IS A SHITHOLE! HELL IS A FUCKING SHITHOLE! I HATE THE FUCKING PLACE! I FUCKING HATE IT! IT'S FULL OF DICKHEADS, AND I FUCKING HATE IT!"
"Sheesh, you sound like the happiest man in Birmingham."
Church: "*ANGRY GROANING*"
"I saw what happened at the bar, and them laughing at you was kinda shit. Not gonna lie."
"YOU. FUCKING. THINK?!" If Church wasn't in the trash dumpster with the lid on, his voice would've carried throughout the entire circle of pride.
"I know what that feels like, man. Take it from me."
"The FUCK should I do that for?!"
"Because being born a girl but having the body of a dude ain't what it's hyped up to be - despite what an armada of really loud voices on social media will scream at everyone."
Church shut up.
"Listen man. When I was a kid, my parents wanted me to be a girl. At school, the other girls knew I wasn't one of them, so they took advantage of it."
The sinner flicked the cigarette butt away, then took out another one.
"I was more physically fit than them, nothing that the girls liked ever interested me, and their obsessions over putting me down nearly drove me insane. It was aaaaaall about what was between my legs when it was those girls and my parents... But the boys? They treated me like a younger brother."
Church continued shutting up, leaning forward to listen.
"I always wanted to be like those boys – kind, tough, strong, but I never had the confidence to establish that pronoun with anyone until… well…"
"After it was too late?" Church asked.
"Yeah." The sinner-demon lit his cigarette and inhaled.
"There was a particular kid I always liked - a pastor's kid, funny enough. First met him when I was dragged to church every Sunday to get the weekly religious dose shoved down my throat, but that pastor's kid? He made every Sunday worth it." The sinner demon smiled, taking in another whiff.
Church nodded.
"He sounds like a nice change of pace, considering the whole stereotypical self-righteous, church-going trope that everyone keeps using to bash on to no fucking end."
"You were anything but a stereotype~!" The sinner demon nodded with a nostalgic yet solemn grin.
"Pardon?" Church raised an eyebrow.
"*Cough!* He!*Cough!* HE! Was anything but a stereotype! The pastor's kid, I mean!" The sinner demon ''corrected'' himself.
"… Sure, whatever." Church didn't question it, rolling his eyes.
An awkward pause between the two occurred.
"Best friend and classmate I could've ever had!" The sinner demon elaborated to Church.
"Even if he did have some anger issues after... well... shit, since his father lost the chapel I want to say." The expression dropped to a more appropriate, somber, and subtle version of itself.
"Well... what happened?" Church asked, none the wiser.
"Our school lost a classmate to... something horrible. The Pastor kid's anger issues worsened as a result and... And there wasn't anything I could do because I didn't know what was happening until one day his family moved somewhere really far away and I never saw him again." The sinner demon sighed.
"He... seems like someone very troubled." Church shrugged, trying to add something to the conversation.
The gender-ambiguous sinner demon nodded. "Funny enough, the whole reason I use masculine pronouns and refer to myself as a "He" instead of "she" is-... well..." The sinner demon tried to figure out how to close the sentence.
"Because... I felt accepted by him! I felt like that he'd accept me more as a brother-figure if I didn't refer to myself as-..." The sinner demon forgot what to say at the moment, then recovered.
"- Because I wanted to be like that Pastor's kid some day - loving, kind, accepting - that's the kind of person anyone should want to be, so I did!" The sinner demon concluded.
Church took a deep breath, absorbing the infodump at face value.
"Did you ever see him again?" Church asked.
Pause.
"Not in life, no." The sinner demon smiled. Church hadn't poked his head out to have seen this one nod his head.
"Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that I know what it's like to be alone, out-of-water, separated from the people you want to be with… And that's why I want to help you."
Church took a deep breath, finally calming down.
He peeked through the gap between the lid and the dumpster of his reside.
"How do I know you're not lying about all of that?"
The sinner demon looked back at him, lit cigarette in mouth.
"Because I know how much Hell can absolutely suck, and I just want solace in that I'm not alone."
Church sighed, looking down. He stuck his right hand out of the dumpster.
"Church Tiernan." He offered it in greetings.
The sinner took Church's hand and shook it.
"Zack. Just Zack."
Something in the back of Church's mind buzzed at the name, but he didn't think anything of it. He climbed out of the dumpster and retrieved the IMP business card from Zack.
"Alright Zack. What do you want with me?"
"Not until you take a shower. My place is only a couple blocks off of one of the main roads, and I don't think you have anything better to do."
"Sure. Lead the way."
Only now was Church able to analyze Zack further. He wore a black, short sleeve shirt with a blood-red Roman collar around the shirt's collar, and black pants with a chain hanging out of his pocket.
"You look snazzy for someone in Hell." Church commented.
Zack chuckled and wiped something off his cheek that came out of his eye. Church couldn't see what it was.
"Thank you, Church." Zack smiled.
ZACK'S PLACE
"Damn, man! This is quite the crib. How do you have this?!" The two walked in.
"I've been here for a while. Didn't come cheap."
Church didn't question it.
"Shower is right there. I'll put your clothes through the wash."
"UM, I WOULD, BUT-!" Church remembered that the pants and shirt were all he was wearing.
"Dude, I've seen dicks before. Chill out and strip." Zack opened the door to a small bathroom and held out his hand.
Church blushed.
"I mean, maybe it's because of my encounter with the secretary when I dropped in here, but now that I know I wasn't as asexual as I thought I was-…" Church nervously unbuttoned, trying to not get his sleeves caught in his ram horns again.
"He was also biologically born as a she, but with the masculine build of a dude, but she wants to be called a he, but-, it, so-..." Church's blushing became impossible to hide.
"Ah, fuck it. This is the ONE GOOD THING that's ever happened to me during my entire time down here. I be fucked if I'm going to be embarrassed about THIS of all things!" He took off his shirt and handed it over.
"See? That wasn't so-"
*Unzip*
Church handed over his pants.
"Oh." Zack started blushing.
"Thanks man." Church stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Zack put the clothes in the washing machine and hit the button.
He took a deep breath, looking out the window as he listened to Church operating the shower.
"Oh cool, it's like one of the showers from that blade-running movie- WHOA GOD IT'S HOT!" Church yelped.
Zack looked around his bedroom and accounted the inventory.
"Drugs? Yep. Alcohol? Check. Clothes? Check." He took out his phone and checked the time. There was an unopened text message.
"JEEZ! HO! HO LORD! GOD! LORD GOD! IT'S HOT!" Church complained in the shower.
Zack blushed. The text was an inappropriate image accompanied by the words "got lucky today" followed by an emoji.
"WHOA-HO! Oh God! It's hot!"
Zack stepped into the bathroom.
"You okay in there?"
"Yeah! Just, uhm…"
"Need help?" Zack shut the bathroom door.
There was a shower curtain, a glass door, and a ton of steam separating the two.
"No! No! I'm good. WHOOO! It's hot!" Church squeaked out.
"You're not scrubbing. You're still going to stink when you get out of there, and I can see a banana peel behind your horn!" Zack commented.
"I'm fine! I promi-"
"Sit down. I won't be a moment!" Zack grabbed the sponge from under the sink.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Church obliged, bracing himself for what might come next.
"It's just as awkward for me as it is you! Just pretend we're siblings or something." Zack grabbed some soap.
"But I've only had a sister!" Church blinked.
Zack blushed harder.
"Just shut up! I know what I'm doing!" He rolled up his sleeves and started with Church's hair.
"Wait, is this gay or straight?" Church didn't mean that to come out how it did.
"STOP MAKING THIS MORE WEIRD FOR ME!" Zack wasn't happy.
ONE UNNECESSARILY AWKWARD SHOWER LATER
"See, Church? That wasn't so hard." Zack stared in the other direction as Church got his clothes back on.
"Did you really have to do that?" Church zipped his pants back up, covering his newly acquired men's underwear.
"Yes. And here's some deodorant." Zack offered a spray can.
Church took it, then broke into laughter when he read the scent name.
"Fuck's sake, WHY IS IT ALWAYS GASOLINE?!" He laughed, facepalming.
"It's all I got. Sorry man." Zack shrugged.
"It's fine, but still - poor taste!" Church applied the deodorant, both amused and disheartened.
Zack gave a courtesy laugh.
"So, what's with the file you've been hauling around on your person? Is that someone's portfolio?"
Church shrugged.
"I don't know. It's been the only thing I've had since I fell, face-first here." He sighed.
Zack sat down on the table and started browsing through it.
"It's where I found the I.M.P. business card. There's a bunch of crap in there I can't make heads or tails of." Church sat down and put the pair of socks with the rest of the clothes Zack gave him. They could wait until tomorrow.
Zack flipped through the profiles.
"Hey, uh, Church. If you want something to drink, I got some in the fridge."
"Thanks man." Church headed over to grab himself whatever was in there.
He opened the cooler door.
"Alcohol, sodas, alcohol, a literal blunt, more alcohol… Uh… Do you have some water?"
"It should be buried in the back somewhere." Zack answered.
Church found it and took a sip.
"Holy hell. Best sip of water I've ever had since I died!" Church then realized it's the only thing he's drank since he died.
"Uh, Church? You said you had a sister, right?"
"Yeah, she was-" Church's mind betrayed him.
"... Church, you alright?" Zack blinked.
The moment Church remembered her, the memories dragged him to those last moments in the car.
"Church! Snap out of it!"
Church blinked, taking himself back to the present.
"Sorry. I just-…" Church's skin started crawling from remembering.
*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*
"Oi! Quiet down over there! I got work in six hours!" A muffled voice from the next apartment over complained.
Awkward pause.
"What happened?" Church looked to Zack, concerned.
"I think you just had a bad case of shell shock."
Church blinked.
"Oh, okay. That a common thing down here?"
"Eh, I've seen other sinner-demons deal with it before. It's common among anybody who's had particularly gnarly deaths, really."
"Oh, like being in a car crash, not dying immediately, getting lit on fire, panicking, then getting shot before knowing what's going on?"
"… Yeah." Zack bit his lip.
"I've also seen a few sinner-demons quickly transform when out of combat due to it, but mostly because of extensive provocation."
"How does that usually end?"
"Unless pre-planned, badly for the instigator." Zack concluded.
"… Huh. Cool." Church blinked.
"What were we talking about again?"
Zack grabbed the portfolio and an opened red-top magazine.
"This." He pointed to a list of casualties the magazine had in the pages, then flipped-open the portfolio to the first file.
Church looked at them.
"The fuck?" Then Church kept reading them.
Zack flipped to the next portfolio and pointed to the next name on the magazine's casualty list.
"The fuck?!"
Church flipped to the next profile and went down the list.
"What the fuck?!"
"Church, I don't think-"
Church flipped to the back of the book, then stared in shock.
Zack bit his lip again as Church's scarred eye twitched.
"That's… Here… That's Her." Church stared at the name, zoning out.
TIERNAN, OLGA GRIMHILDR
"She was a Wiccan." Church giggled.
"My sister was a Wiccan." He started breaking into laughter.
The room started brightening.
"I knew her coven. I picked up her friends and drove them home from the bar when they were DRUNK! While I was getting my homework done and doing chores around the house, she was sneaking off to hang out with her friends, AND I NEVER ONCE SNITCHED!" He threw the portfolio and the magazine off the table in a mix of denial and sheer panic.
"Uh, Church?!" Zack jumped up from his seat and started backing away.
Church's scarred eye started twitching.
"SHE got int to heaven, but what the fuck about me?"
The cross-shaped scar and his eye flickered like a broken flashlight, then into a bright, luminescent "X".
"CHURCH?!" Zack grabbed the chair and put it between himself and a very horrifyingly familiar sight he only ever sees once a year.
"WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT ME?!" Church grabbed himself by the horns and yanked his head downward.
"THE FUCK DID I DO?! WHAT WAS MY SIN?! WHAT WAS MY-" The room returned to normal brightness like someone turned off a light switch.
"Ah shit, I made a mess. Sorry Zack." Church bent down and started cleaning the papers,
Zack stood there, still pointing the chair at Church, confounded.
"... What in the shit?! He just switched between fear, denial, anger, and nonsensical chill like a fuse box!" He blinked.
Zack put the chair back.
"Church, you just scared the shit out of-"
*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*
"Oi! I fucking told you to pipe down! I work night shift, you assholes!" The muffled voice of the neighbor complained again.
Church sighed.
"Sorry. I just-…" He put his face in his hands.
"Church, are you okay?" Zack confronted.
"No. No, I'm not." Church didn't answer, save for shaking his head.
"Let's figure this out tomorrow, Ay?"
"… Okay." Church nodded his head.
"I'll get some food going. How you feel about leftovers?"
"I haven't eaten anything since I got here, man. I'll go for whatever you got."
"No problem!"
DAY 4 – HELPLESS HOPE
"Alright, now we're here. Let's analyze what we got." Zack took a seat, analyzing the magazine's casualty list and the portfolio files Church accidentally stole.
"We have a portfolio of twelve profiles of people whose names match the fatality list of the names on the magazine."
"And also, this business card." Church displayed the grey gradient I.M.P business card.
"And also, that business card." Zack acknowledged.
"And the fact that I was shot in the face when I was already burning to death." Church added.
"And the fact you were shot in the face when you were already burning to death." Zack nodded, acknowledging again.
"Right, so, what do these people all have in common?" Zack folded his hands.
"I saw them." Church blurted.
"After I died." He added to the blurt.
Zack blinked.
"Okay. anything else?"
Pause.
"… They're all in heaven now!" Church's eyes widened in realization.
"Oh God. Everyone in that portfolio is in heaven-
"Oh God. Everyone in that portfolio is on that list of-
"Oh God. Everyone of those people died with me in the crash-
"WAIT A MINUTE!" Church stopped his broken record there.
"Why the fuck am I not on either of them?! I died in that crash too! How am I not even as much as acknowledged?!"
"Maybe it's a hit list?" Zack shrugged.
"That's the only thing that makes sense to me!" Church shrugged.
"But why would your sister be on it? What'd SHE do?!"
"Maybe it had something to do with her coven, maybe?! I-, phfff!" Church's mouth fumbled into confusion as he tossed his hands in the air.
"I'm looking at the profiles again. Honestly, any of these people could've been the hit or it could've been all of them - except for Olga. Her being here seems… random. I dunno." Zack analyzed the profiles.
"Great." Church rubbed his temples.
"So, let me start from the top: I've been cast into Hell for a sin I have no idea what it is, I am a Sinner Demon, and Sinner demons are confined to the single circle of Pride. I was killed in what I thought was a freak-accident but was actually a premeditated assassination on an unknown target, by, POSSIBLY I.M.P. but all I have is a business card that implies that it was them, and the target – or targets, if there were multiple – are now in heaven, along with the rest of those twelve victims, EXCEPT ME, to which, despite being the one to have not died instantly in the crash and even made a bit of a scene, everyone that wrote that information pretends that I didn't exist!"
Zack bit his lip, nodding.
"Yeah, that seems about right."
"Great!" Church leaned back into the seat.
"So, what am I even supposed to do? Just go around the circle of pride and just straight-up interrogate everyone I meet about the names on that list?"
"Wait a minute. I think it actually might be easier than that." Zack lit up.
"Oh really? How so?" Church caught his breath.
"Well, if Imp really is behind this specific hit, then why don't we just pull out a phone book, find their number, and just straight-up call their office? Worst case scenario, why not let me see if I could pull some strings to get you set-up with a ride over to their office in Imp City, so you could just straight-up ask them?"
Church froze.
"Wait… You're telling me... We could… just… call them?"
"Uh, yeah?" Zack nodded his head.
"Church, do you not know what a cell phone is?"
At first, Church smiled at the information, then every conceivable emotion shot through his spine into his brain all at once.
"Excuse me for one second."
Church went into the bathroom and closed the door.
"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH! GOD! DAMNIT!"
Zack blinked.
"Are you okay?!"
"I'M GREAT!" Church walked out of the bathroom.
"Are you sure? It sounded like you just-"
"I didn't!"
Awkward pause.
"So, about that phone book!" Church blinked.
"Yea, I'll get that, but I need to check some things – need to make sure that their phone number is actually theirs, because I think the cities here in Circle of Pride have different shenanigans going on for their phone services or something? I need to just make sure that when we call the number, it's actually theirs and not the phone number of a different city, or accidentally somehow call a different circle of Hell or something ridiculous."
"Perfect!"
ONE HUNT FOR AN IMP CITY PHONE BOOK, AND SOME REVERSE-ENGINEERING LATER...
"This is I.M.P."
Church: "Yes! Hello! My name is-"
"We're not available at the moment. Leave a name and number, and we'll get back to you shortly!"
*Beep*
Church: "Hello, Imp! This is-"
"You have reached the voicemail system."
Church: "*Sigh*. This is fine."
"If you want to leave a message, just wait for the tone."
Church: "I know how to leave a voicemail."
"When you are finished recording, hang up or press 1 for more options."
Church: "Please, just beep."
"For delivery options, press 2."
Church: "Just give me the stupid beep!"
"To leave a callback number, press 3."
Church waited for the beep.
"To repeat this message, press 9"
Church: "I WILL UNIRONICALLY BLUDGEON THE PERSON WHO MADE THIS VOICEMAIL SYSTEM WITH A FUCKING BIBLE."
Zack: "That's the spirit!"
"To mark this message as urgent, press 11."
Church: "There is no 11, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"
*Beep*
Church: "AHA! Finally! Hello, I.M.P. My name is-"
"This number's voicemail is full. Please hang up and try your call again!"
*Beep*, *Click* A dial tone played from the other side.
Church calmly hung up the phone.
He took a deep breath, and remembered he was a guest in someone else's apartment.
"So, About that ride!" He looked over to Zack.
"It's one of these quid-pro-quo things. I'll see if there's anyone with a delivery in Imp City's direction, and I'll get you set up. Might take a while."
"As long as I don't have to leave a voicemail again, that's just fine by me!"
DAY 5, 1/2 – THE TIDE BEGAN TO RISE
Church hauled the bag of clothes Zack gave him over his shoulder, waiting in the parking lot.
"Alright, the guy's off to make a delivery to some location in the middle of nowhere, and that middle of nowhere is just "in the general direction" of Imp City. It's not fantastic, but that's all I got."
Before he could think of anything else, an open cab vehicle pulled up with an enclosed cooler in the back.
"Hey, you! Aren't you supposed to be on trial?" The driver was an average-looking imp - a dude, wearing a black dress-shirt with a blood-red Roman collar, not too dissimilar to Zack's choice of dress.
"Don't put me before the judge! No one's innocent before him." Church spoke his side of the code phrase.
"You know Zack?" The driver adjusted his sunglasses.
"Yeah. I'm Church Tiernan!"
"Perfect. Hop in." He unlocked the doors and Church embarked in Shotgun.
They drove out of the parking lot and through Pentagram city.
"Shit, how big is this place?" Church thought aloud to himself.
The Driver turned on the radio, keeping the death metal hard rock on minimal volume.
"It's gonna take a while before we drive out of here." He hit a button and the roof started unfolding over the vehicle.
"So, Tiernan, right?" The driver asked.
Church paused, caught off guard.
"Uh, yeah? That's my name."
The driver shook his head.
"Name's Driver. Also, I'm going to give you some advice: don't go around telling people that's your last name."
Church looked to the side, confused.
"Okay. Why?"
The driver made a sharp turn.
"It's a bit of an open secret, but there's a powerful Overlord demon who has it in for some random priest: The only thing anyone knows about that guy was that very name: Tiernan. Something to do with some shenanigans with the Ars Goetia royalty."
Church broke into a sweat.
"Excuse me, what happened?!"
The Driver checked the corners of his vehicle.
"The Overlord had some powerful ties to the Circle of Greed and was in some sort of self-enrichment conspiracy with some churches in the human side of things, thinking he could amass wealth to undermine one of the big guys in the Ars Goetia."
"The who?"
The driver looked Church in the eye through his sunglasses.
"Royalty – really strong-ass demons who you DON'T fuck with."
"And what was this Overlord doing?"
"He was pulling some strings, plotting to do something REALLY stupid. Played his cards extremely well, but not without notice."
"What happened?"
"He pissed off some random-ass priest, which caused an insane domino effect that backfired into the Overlord's face, spectacularly."
Church stared at the driver, confused (again).
"… Wait, a NOODLE incident? That's it? That's literally it?"
"I also heard rumors that the priest was so pissed off, he went as far as to utilize Wiccans, necromancers, and maybe even made a deal with one of the Ars Goetia directly just to absolutely fuck with the Overlord, but those are just random-ass rumors. Probably made-up to make the story more believable. I've never cared enough to find out."
"Well, shit!" Church gulped.
"But yeah – an overlord that got his shit kicked in by a random-ass Sunday pastor is quite the amusing underdog story, so it's natural that whatever actually happened got vexed and flayed to the point of unrecognizable."
The Driver kept driving.
"All I'm saying kid, is don't ever talk about your name if you value yourself. If anyone finds out your full name, they walk away substantially higher on the ladder, and you get to be fried mutton for the rest of your eternal damnation. Got it?"
Church broke into a sweat, remembering his last moments spent ablaze and on fire, then imagined the rest of his eternity reliving that hell, in hell.
"Crystal fucking clear." He answered.
"Good. Also, Church. I need a favor."
"What do you- IS THAT A SHOTGUN?!"
"Yeah. Semi-auto. We're heading into a bad part of town and I need you to hold this until we get out."
"Why are we heading through a bad part of- *OOF*" Church got the shotgun shoved into his chest.
"Because it's the quickest way out of Pentagram city, and I got Ice that needs to be delivered. You don't need to actually shoot anyone. Just hold it and look intimidating!"
"Fine. Got it!"
"Also, nice necklace. Silver?" The driver complimented Church's crucifix that he cleaned-up and put around his neck.
"Yeah. My dad gave it to me. Why?"
"Your dad has good taste. Also, you'd do well to tuck that into your shirt before anybody starts asking questions."
"Sure, okay." Church complied.
DAY 5, 2/2 – THIS I KNOW
"Dude, I thought you said this was a bad part of town?"
"It is! Just keep holding the shotgun."
"This anticipation is killing me." Church kept the shotgun ready.
*Shatter*
"WINDOW AT TWELVE!" The Driver randomized the car's movements.
*BAM!*
"Ground level or third?" Church shot first, asked next.
*BA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA*
The driver hit the gas and started dodging traffic as bullets whizzed past them. Some spanked off the side of the car.
"JUST PICK A DIRECTION AND SHOOT!"
*BAM!* *BAM!*
Church suppressed a shooter hidden behind some dumpsters.
"I thought the turf war was tomorrow!" The driver dodged an incoming car.
*BAM!* "The fucking WHAT?!" Church ducked back into the cab.
"Don't ask! I don't know how they work!" The driver wanted to put the petal to the metal, but he had to avoid traffic.
Church leaned out the window, aiming at a group they passed, and fired another round.
*BOOM!*
Some barrels went off.
"Oof! That wasn't-..." Church cringed at the spectacle.
"Damn, kid, good shot!"
"I was just trying to get them to fuck off, not-... THAT!" Church gestured at the giant trail of smoke from the result.
"... Oh! well in that case, shit job! Kill more!" The driver remarked, laughing.
*BAM!* *BAM!* *BAM!* Church kept up the heat, forcing some assailants' heads down as the vehicle passed by.
"Are we out of the woods yet?" Church sat back down in his seat.
"Our exit is up ahead. Once we leave the city, it's all downhill from there."
"Perfect! What happens after that?" Church put his seat belt back on after digging out some shells.
The car took the exit at break-neck speed.
"Reload that shotgun and get comfortable, because Imp city is still going to be a LOOOOOOOOONG ways away after I drop you off with the ice.
DAY 5 – TURN YOUR BACK AND RUN
"Wow. This place looks like somewhere in Nevada." Church commented.
"Where in Nevada?"
"I don't know, but somewhere under a red sky and full of madness."
The pair kept to the road.
"Are those rain clouds?" Church raised an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah. There is supposed to be a blood-rain shower in a little bit." The driver reasoned.
"Uh, then what's that light coming out of it?" Church narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better glimpse.
"Wait, Huh?!" The driver took off his sunglasses and looked to the light Church pointed out.
"Church, climb in back and get the big-ass chain gun from the back." The Driver ordered. His tone changed to alert.
"What about the shot-"
"SHOTGUN WILL ONLY PISS IT OFF GET THE FUCKING CHAIN GUN!" The driver put the petal back to the metal.
"Piss what off?!"
"GET ON THE BIG-ASS GUN!"
Church climbed in back next to the freezer keeping the ice from melting and looked for the weapon the driver was talking about.
"FLIP THE SEAT! BEHIND THE MIDDLE SEAT!"
"Got it!" Church pulled down.
"A fucking belt-fed .50 CAL?! What in the fuck?!" Church processed before engaging the bolt and chambering the first round into the gun.
"Okay! Big-ass gun ready! What next?"
"AIM IT AT THE LIGHT!"
"Sure, yeah!"
"DON'T-…" The driver regained his composure.
"Don't fucking fire unless it sees us."
"How will I know that?"
"YOU'LL FUCKING KNOW!" The Driver lifted the armrest compartment and hit a button.
Church felt himself thrown into the seat. The vehicle was speeding up.
"You got NOS for this car?!"
"SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS SHIT!" The driver lost his composure again.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"
Church was staring at the light, looking for whatever it was that was causing the driver to freak out.
"Dude, chill! What are we up against? It's just a random light from the sky."
"NO IT'S FUCKING NOT! JUST KEEP WATCHING FOR SOMETHING IN IT!"
Church kept looking. He didn't see anything.
"What am I even looking for?" Church kept scanning.
"You'll fucking know." The driver used up more NOS.
"Alright, Church, listen to me! Our stop is a cathedral! Okay? A cathedral!" He sounded more collected this time, but still psyched-out.
"What's so special about it?"
"It's our stop, and it looks like we're gonna be stuck there until the all-clear is given."
Church shrugged."
"Okay. Sure. You want me to just bail out, dead-sprint towards it, then hide in a confession booth until you show up?"
The driver blinked.
"Sure! Yeah! Do that. I'll be in to explain everything. All you have to do once you get in there is SHUT UP!"
Church blinked.
"Alright. Yeah. I could do that!"
Church held his position next to the big gun.
"So, what was so horrifying about that patch of light from the sky?"
The driver blinked, then broke into a nervous laughter.
"Uh, kid, I don't know if you noticed, but did you know that Hell's overpopulated?"
"… Yea? Why?" Church stared, confused.
"… Oh my God. You honestly don't know!" The Driver forgot how to breathe.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a phone and dialed.
"Yo! Driver! You alright?" A familiar voice answered as something was audible in the background.
"ZACK!" The driver sighed in relief.
"I'm alright! Church is still with me. How about you?"
"I barricaded myself in my apartment dorm. Holy shit the Exorcists are having a blast. How are you two holding up?"
"What the hell's going on?! Is that SCREAMING?!" Church tilted his head, not knowing what was going on.
"Yeah. We left just in fucking time. Church caught sight of one descending just outside the city. Any closer and I wouldn't be making this phone call!" The driver started nervously laughing.
"Alright, so how far are you away from the Godforsaken?" Zack took a breath.
"She's still a couple hours out. Church should have no problem getting in, but I need you to call ahead to Timothy and get the garage ready for me to drive right in once I circle-back to make sure we weren't followed!"
"Perfect. Once the Extermination is over, I'll get the contraption set up and give him a ring."
Church's eyes widened at what he just overheard.
"Wait, WHAT?!" Church took his job at rear security more seriously.
"Alright Zack. Stay safe." The driver hung up the phone.
"Uh, Driver? Who's that in the gimp suit? Also, why is he Naruto-running parallel to us?" Church pointed to what he assumed was just another demon - albeit, with an uncomfortably jolly smile on his face, an all black figure with white lines and a... a halo? A halo with some familiar iconography.
"Huh? What?" Driver bent around and looked, then he saw.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Driver put the pedal to the metal and hit the Nos button.
"And it's gone again!" Church pointed.
"Alright, Church. Once you jump out of this car, BOOK IT INTO THE CATHEDRAL AND DON'T LOOK BACK!
Thank you for reading A Hope in Hell (aka, Hell's Answered Prayer)! I hope you enjoyed. Let me know your thoughts. If you've spotted an inconsistency, let me know so I can fix it. I don't always spy them in post, so it's always nice to have someone tell me as soon as possible!
Thank you for your time and I hope you have a good rest of your day!