Otone looked around, confused. The back of her head hurt, and she was a little dirty, but other than that she was fine. She noticed the bus driver and the neon sign. What the fuck? is this some kind of bad joke? She addressed the guy who seemed to be a bus driver.
"Where is this? And what do you mean designated place?" She added more as an afterthought, "... And where's that Zachary bastard?"
we will survive.Sean woke up with a killer headache and an increasingly distressed disposition, and the bus driver's annoying voice and the garish neon light sure weren't helping matters. He stood up, wincing and holding his temples. "Gah- Where are we, exactly? Like, are we actually in hell or is this some weird-ass nightclub?"
“Not a promise, not an oath, or a malediction or a curse. Inevitable." - Taylor HebertThomas stared at the strange man and the odd bus through his SWAT goggles. He seemed distinctly unamused at this current situation. He glanced upwards to see if he could still spot the hole that Williams had somehow opened beneath them right before they could apprehend the bastard was still there. It would after all be their way out once they found him.
Click Click Boom BoomThe bus driver let out a chuckle, an almost sinister one. "Close but no cigar, Sean." The man took a long sip of his cigarette, before blowing a puff of smoke. "That neon over there is the entrance to Hell. But neither you nor miss Greenburg are supposed to end there." He paused, before climbing up the bus and switching on the roadlights.
The bottom of the crevice was suddenly illuminated by light. There was a prominent rubble pile nearby, and several limbs from corpses trapped underneath stuck out... a leg from Otone's body, an arm from Sean, Thomas cracked helmet...
They were their own corpses.
"Well, I hope this answers your question as well, miss Greenburg. You all have perished at the bottom of the Hinnom... also called Gehenna. Zachary used magic to kill you."
He paused, taking another long puff. "And then he entered hell himself. But that shouldn't be your concern any longer. You should quietly follow my instructions into the afterlife." He paused, and then stroke his chin, before snapping his finger and then tossing his cigarette.
"But that would be so boring, no? After all, Zachary has also messed up my quotas with that wantom magic killing that doesn't show up in records." He eyed everyone intently. "Care to make a wager with the Reaper?" He grinned at them.
edited 3rd May '15 1:37:37 AM by AtomicNut
Thomas ignored the strange man for the moment and walked over to where the team's apparent corpses were located. When he went to attempt to remove the helmet from his own corpse to get a better look at it, his hand passed through it. He stared at it baffled for a moment before attempting the action again, to no avail. Thomas grunted in a combination of annoyance and confusion before turning his attention back to the man stating they were all dead.
"I'm assuming you also have some explanation for how if we are dead, we are yet still alive?"
Click Click Boom BoomThe bus driver scratched his head. "You're so straightforward, Sean. That's what they like up there about you." The being scratched his head amusingly. "Assumming you fail, regardless of what place you've earned in the afterlife you would be sent to the deepest parts of hell without a revision of their cause."
The man paused, wickedly smiling. "There's a price for waging with Death, after all. Nobody will blame you for giving up now. And It'd make my job easier after all. Less amusing, but easier."
The man took another puff of smoke, tilting his head with mild interest at the struggling cop. "Alive? No, you're not alive. Always the disbeliever, mr Thompson. Sometimes you've got to have a little faith." He paused. "You're dead most certainly, but your souls have not left for the afterlife. If I would call you something right now, it's ghosts."
He snapped his fingers, and in a puff of shadowy smoky, a large, skeletal scythe appeared in the driver's hands. Black feathery wings sprouted from his back aswell."But I'll give your proof now, mostly because I cannot stand your kin talking back to me."
And then he disappeared in a blur, only to reappear at T3's back with frightening speed. The scythe descended swiftly, cleanly severing the soldier's left arm at his shoulder. Pain ran amok through Thomas' mind. But after the initial cut, it disappeared.
But there was no blood. Not even the singlest drop. The severed limb was not bleeding either.
"Does this explanation satisfy you?"
Thomas stared down at his severed limb and the complete lack of blood and the fact that the pain had gone away far far faster then it had any right to. His unsevered arm had already drawn the spectral copy of his .45 but he refrained from finishing the motion to point it at the being that had just cut his arm off.
"...I suppose that's proof enough."
Click Click Boom BoomThe bus driver raised an eyebrow, while shaking his head at the one-armed-cop flippant's attitude. "Perhaps I should've taken both of your arms, you look like you need several lessons more about this place." He picked the severed arm, and then placed it carefully against Thomas' shoulder socket. A quick puff of shadows after, and a rather uncomfortable sensation like a thousand of tongues had licked the cop's spine, the arm was back in place without more repercusions. Even the torn clothes had been restored.
"Ah Sean, do not worry. I, Samael, guarantee that your daughter awaits in Heaven." He said, before taking a more somber expresion. "...or that's what I would like to say, but Zachary Williams snatched her soul, and thus she is in his posession as he traverses Hell. Like the rest of his victims." He added taking off his hat and rearranging his hair. "Such is our predicament. Obviously, innocent children do not belong there. And I cannot arrange numbers like with adults to make things appear fine. Yet, I am just a deliverer of souls. I do not have the authority to scour Hell."
He added, starting to give an spin to his hat. "So you go in my stead. I can arrange you to be transferred to the Sabaoth instead of the afterlife, because Zachary's kills do not appear in any record whatsoever. You catch him, I restore your mangled flesh bags of bodies to life. Speaking of which..."
The angel snapped his hand and his hat became an ornate brass cellphone, with an engraved cross on it. He then dialed a tone. "Heeey... Abe, how's it going?" Samael parroted.
Whoever was on the other end of the cellphone didn't like the answer, because his irate screams could be heard even after Samael separated it from his ear. After the outburst was done, he then resumed the conversation.
"Yeah, I know. I'll ask Mike about sending you more folks. But good news is that I got some fellas to help you with Zachary. Yes. They're volunteering. No. They're humans."
And then there was an awkward silence, followed by a short outburst, and then a sigh. "Okay then, I'll put them under your care. Bye!" Samael said before hanging.
"Abbadon the Destroyer, the Angel of the Abyss. Quite the temper, I'd say. But he's going to be your overseer as part of the Heavenly host, the Sabaoth, at Hell. If you accept, that is."
The angel then extended his hand. "If you do, please turn your badges and phones to me. I'll give you new ones suited to this place."
edited 5th May '15 9:25:12 AM by AtomicNut
Figuring he didn't have much else to do besides going with the flow, Thomas followed his compatriots' lead. Though he was far more grudging about handing over his phone and badge.
Click Click Boom Boom"Perfect." Samael said, and snapped his fingers. Black flames engulfed the phones and badges. They didn't seem to burn...but rather, transform the items in which they had been cast upon. When the eldritch flames ceased, the phones were transformed in brass-plated versions of themselves, with a notorious cross motif on each one.
"I've also taken my liberty of adding me and Abe to your contact agenda. Oh and calls to Heaven and Hell are free." The Angel said, before delivering the phones back.
The badges seemed to suffer the same fate, as they had now a brand new silver "SBTH" initial impronted on them, instead of their respective agencies. Like with the phones, the Angel of Death gave them back quickly.
"One last thing. Well, two actually. One, try to find a guide them. Don't fret, there's a cadre of virtous souls past the gate, surprisingly enough. And two, the key of surviving hell is your Ego."
He paused. "The Ego is what keeps you together in that spectral form. When you're attacked or attack, your ego is damaged, but if you concentrate, you can reject the damage and heal yourselves. However, in doing so, you might lose the ability of interacting with the environment. Likewise, if you interact with the environment, accepting your surroundings, you might be able to pull stunts you couldn't do on earth proper, but you risk to be trapped in hell forever if you overuse it."
He then checked this clock. "Ah, I guess I better need to get going before more work piles up. Keep me informed, will you? Oh, and Sean..." The angel tossed a necklace with a cross towards the seasoned cop. It was a crucifix, actually. "Consider this my sympathies towards your predicament. It will be helpful there."
And without giving a chance to reply, the Angel of Death entered the bus, which then disappeared in a puff of shadowmist.
Sean caught the crucifix necklace. How, he wasn't too sure, but then, he'd also just died and been drafted into the literal Army of God, so he wasn't about to question it.
"Well... I suppose there's not really anything to do but move on. Shall we?"
“Not a promise, not an oath, or a malediction or a curse. Inevitable." - Taylor HebertThe landscape that opened before the eyes of the trio didn't follow certain laws of physics... or even good decoration or taste. A red and black checkered marble was beneath its feet, extending as far as the eye could see in all directions but one. Pillars that protuded from the dark, like columns of a gothic cathedral, raised itselves from the ground and upwards, to an unseen obscured ceiling. The stone which made the pillars seemed still to be cracked and red-hot in its inside, emitting a dim, sick low light, but at the same cold to the touch.
Here and there, groups of gray dressed figures stood on black boulders. They tried to yell and defend their ideas, only to be tossed manure and rotten food and forcibly removed, only for others to step up and restart the cycle anew. Eerie wing flapping sounds could be heard in the heights, and even growls and moans.
Another, much bigger crowd seemed to gather from all directions in the semiinfinite marbled extension. Figures vaguely human, but at the same time, opaque and without distinguishable features. They all lumbered towards one direction, one goal. The shore of an underground, wailing river. Here, at the side, was a large ocean liner ship, with a booth adjacent with a dim neon light that said:
Tickets Here
On closer inspection, it seemed as the ocean liner had a pale, eerie glow, and it seemed to be foggy in its composition. One side was punched through as it had been some sort of explosion, and the inscription of the ship was still visible.
RMS LUSITANIA
However, what was more odd were two figures that stood out in front of the crowd. One of them a seasoned, robed old man, with glowing eyes, and unkept hair and beard. It was bellowing from behind the booth, at the seemingly endless stream of souls. By his side, there was a female woman with dark feathery wings, completely suited in a black police suit, with the same inscription SBTH as the three cops had in their badges. She seemed bored out of her mind, while she oversaw the crowd moving through the set path and into the ship.
edited 12th May '15 3:49:30 PM by AtomicNut
Otone scowled, presumably because of the tasteless decor. Well, that and the fact that she'd just been told she'd died. Upon noticing the Lusitania, she briefly looked confused, followed by an equally brief look of indigestion. ".. I guess we should board the boat? We have to follow Zachary further into Hell after all..."
we will survive.Thomas gives a grunt of agreement and begins heading towards the boat and the two people apparently in charge of boarding.
Click Click Boom Boom

Zachary Williams, also known as "The Crowley Assassin". That scumbag has been on the loose for more than three years. A self-appointed agent of the antichrist and raving lunatic, he has been cutting the throats of little children for alleged satanic rituals. He has managed to elude capture countless times and made fun of police so much that differences were put aside, and through the INTERPOL, a joint police tasforce was created with the objective of putting an end to the terror.
You were one of the people of the taskforce. At first, cooperation had been mixed at worst, but as time passed the joint effort paid off and you have managed to corner Zachary in the valley of Hinnom, Israel. Surrounded while being still bloodstained and around the corpses of three of his latest victims, you were about to finally apprehend him.
But Zachary didn't care. He kept doing his sick routine of drawing strange circles with the blood of dead children, seemingly chanting in some kind of weird magic mojo.
And then the earth was split open beneath your feet, and you fell yourself falling...
... You woke up in an eerie subterranean cave, with only the intermitent illumination of an old neon light. Your cellphones and communications are dead, and the oddly placed neon light has a rather strange message.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
The darkness was all encompassing. The only things that could be see nwas the ground of the crevice, ashen and dark, illuminated intermitently by the seemingly out of place neon light. And then, some friction sound was heard. Sparks flickered briefly before igniting a lighter.
There was a bus driver, complete with bus, in the bottom of the crevice. The vehicle was black, with golden and white lines, much like the uniform of the driver. His appearance, besides the stylish suit and hat, was pretty much nondescript.
"What a mess." The man said. "But let's not dilly dally, shall we? I do not have all day." He let a puff of smoke while eyeing each one of the assorted people who happened to fall. "Otone Greenburg." He mentioned as he browsed in a list. "Sean Finch". He scratched his head, cigarette in hand.
"Your time's up. You're to come with me to your assigned place. Baal Ginyyr..." He checked twice, his eyes narrowing. "Who calls their kid like that? Anyway, doesn't matter. Your designed place is through that crevice with the pretty little neon." He didn't hesitate. "Same for you, Thomas Thompson. Your time's also up."
The bus driver then finished his smoke with a long puff, before lighting the sign of the bus:
Line 13- Afterlife