M
malina
Guest
Original poster
Hell was a dreary place. It stank of brimstone and sprayed lava in intervals of five to ten minutes, making it a very uncomfortable place to walk through, let alone stand in queue. Death Agent #7302 (newly promoted) blamed poor management for that while huddling under her "Lava, Ectoplasm and Acid Be-Gone!" branded umbrella. Luckily for her, her position in queue grew ever nearer to the "Job Shack". She closed her eyes. There was nothing to be afraid of (even though she had mucked up her previous two? three? jobs). She was Death incarnate. She alone had the power to rip out the souls of the living.
"You," the voice whispered, "are fucking Death. That's right. C'mon, c'mon! Take it in. You. Are. Death. The big bad Goddess of the Underworld. Head honcho of souls, the big cheese of Hell. Mortals will grovel at your feet when you rip their souls outta their fu-"
"Next!"
Death Agent #7302 shuffled up to the window, dodging sizzling puddles of magma. She growled slightly upon seeing the bloated shade, safe under the roof of the "Job Shack". Her prose interrupted, the shadowy figures exchanged glances in the depths of Hell. On one side of the teller window sat Disnorakiin, otherwise known as "John". His eyes were fading stars, their light diminished and dull, hanging in the shadows he called his face. His pose spoke of one who'd seen this pep talk routine many times over. One who couldn't care less who died and who lived, one who'd rather be watching the eleven thousandth run of "Lusty Maidens of Tartarus".
On the other side stood Death Agent #7302, who called herself "Sahvozdosil", but was more commonly known as Alice. Her eyes shone bright like newborn suns, ready to enact burning righteous vengeance on the living. Or so she said, there were many new Death Agents who let it get to their heads. Though she lacked discipline and tact, Alice more than made up for it with her theatrical displays of energy.
Luckily for the humans, Death himself was in control of their lives. Not a loose cannon like Alice, nor the apathetic John. He alone chose carefully who to kill, running a program on Skullscript which factored in many different aspects of human life. Wealth, age, health, favorite songs - they all told a lot about a person's worth. This year's Death thought so anyway – it was just a title granted to their elected leader.
Some years a particularly bloodthirsty soul would be elected as Death, heralding the doom of millions on the Overworld. Others, a delicate hearted soul would kill no one. The current Death was a systematic worker and a complete dork but his coding kept the balance between souls and people in check. Anyway, the peoples' names were printed out and sent to "John", who'd then hand them out to the Death Agents. The Death Agents were tasked with retrieving their souls. Woe betide the one Alice received.
"Death Agent #7302 reportin' for duty! Jess tell me the name, John, and I swear to ya I'll kill him," her shadowy tendrils of fingers snapped, "Jess like that! Who is it? Rich, poor, old, young - there's ain't no one I won't kill! I WILL SNUFF OUT THEIR INSIGNIFICANT LIVES... LIKE CANDLES AGAINST A HURRICANE!"
A plume of fire erupted coincidentally in the background, but to Alice, it was destiny. Fate itself had made that soul leave the oven on too long. Ghostly burnt steak to one soul made for an epic backdrop for another. Bad-ass.
"Drop the accent and the attitude before I drop you. There are," he ruffled through a stack of applications, "seven thousand, three hundred and one other Death Agents who'd be perfectly happy to take this job."
"What! No! Wait! Why?!"
"Get this through your mind, Alice. You've failed your last four retrieval missions. No. One. Else. Has. Ever. Failed. Two. You've made history in Hell, congratulations. Unfortunately for you, Death Agents are required to hold a standard. I personally-"
"Oh my fucking god. God as in Death. President, King, Mister Death. I am so sorry. Will not happen again. So can I have the contract, pretty please with a cherry on top?"
"Alice, I-"
"What did I even do wrong though? It's not my fault people don't want to come to Hell! Look at this shitty place!"
"Alice, just-"
"Fuck. What do you want me to do? I'll even su-"
"Jacob Gardner! The name of your contract is Jacob Gardner!"
Ka-ching. A whiff of burnt parchment and fresh ink passed through the area before a slip of paper shot out of the window into Alice's hands. If her shadowy form allowed her to cry, she would've.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're a sweetie, John."
"Wait Alice! Alice! ...This is your last chance."
His words were unheeded, seeing how she'd already slipped away into the night. He scratched his head before fanning his wispy form back into shape. It was out of his hands now.
"Next!"
"You," the voice whispered, "are fucking Death. That's right. C'mon, c'mon! Take it in. You. Are. Death. The big bad Goddess of the Underworld. Head honcho of souls, the big cheese of Hell. Mortals will grovel at your feet when you rip their souls outta their fu-"
"Next!"
Death Agent #7302 shuffled up to the window, dodging sizzling puddles of magma. She growled slightly upon seeing the bloated shade, safe under the roof of the "Job Shack". Her prose interrupted, the shadowy figures exchanged glances in the depths of Hell. On one side of the teller window sat Disnorakiin, otherwise known as "John". His eyes were fading stars, their light diminished and dull, hanging in the shadows he called his face. His pose spoke of one who'd seen this pep talk routine many times over. One who couldn't care less who died and who lived, one who'd rather be watching the eleven thousandth run of "Lusty Maidens of Tartarus".
On the other side stood Death Agent #7302, who called herself "Sahvozdosil", but was more commonly known as Alice. Her eyes shone bright like newborn suns, ready to enact burning righteous vengeance on the living. Or so she said, there were many new Death Agents who let it get to their heads. Though she lacked discipline and tact, Alice more than made up for it with her theatrical displays of energy.
Luckily for the humans, Death himself was in control of their lives. Not a loose cannon like Alice, nor the apathetic John. He alone chose carefully who to kill, running a program on Skullscript which factored in many different aspects of human life. Wealth, age, health, favorite songs - they all told a lot about a person's worth. This year's Death thought so anyway – it was just a title granted to their elected leader.
Some years a particularly bloodthirsty soul would be elected as Death, heralding the doom of millions on the Overworld. Others, a delicate hearted soul would kill no one. The current Death was a systematic worker and a complete dork but his coding kept the balance between souls and people in check. Anyway, the peoples' names were printed out and sent to "John", who'd then hand them out to the Death Agents. The Death Agents were tasked with retrieving their souls. Woe betide the one Alice received.
"Death Agent #7302 reportin' for duty! Jess tell me the name, John, and I swear to ya I'll kill him," her shadowy tendrils of fingers snapped, "Jess like that! Who is it? Rich, poor, old, young - there's ain't no one I won't kill! I WILL SNUFF OUT THEIR INSIGNIFICANT LIVES... LIKE CANDLES AGAINST A HURRICANE!"
A plume of fire erupted coincidentally in the background, but to Alice, it was destiny. Fate itself had made that soul leave the oven on too long. Ghostly burnt steak to one soul made for an epic backdrop for another. Bad-ass.
"Drop the accent and the attitude before I drop you. There are," he ruffled through a stack of applications, "seven thousand, three hundred and one other Death Agents who'd be perfectly happy to take this job."
"What! No! Wait! Why?!"
"Get this through your mind, Alice. You've failed your last four retrieval missions. No. One. Else. Has. Ever. Failed. Two. You've made history in Hell, congratulations. Unfortunately for you, Death Agents are required to hold a standard. I personally-"
"Oh my fucking god. God as in Death. President, King, Mister Death. I am so sorry. Will not happen again. So can I have the contract, pretty please with a cherry on top?"
"Alice, I-"
"What did I even do wrong though? It's not my fault people don't want to come to Hell! Look at this shitty place!"
"Alice, just-"
"Fuck. What do you want me to do? I'll even su-"
"Jacob Gardner! The name of your contract is Jacob Gardner!"
Ka-ching. A whiff of burnt parchment and fresh ink passed through the area before a slip of paper shot out of the window into Alice's hands. If her shadowy form allowed her to cry, she would've.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're a sweetie, John."
"Wait Alice! Alice! ...This is your last chance."
His words were unheeded, seeing how she'd already slipped away into the night. He scratched his head before fanning his wispy form back into shape. It was out of his hands now.
"Next!"
____________________________________________________________________________________________
"Bitch." She snarled once she was sure she was out of his hearing, a good block or two away. A bit excessive perhaps but rumor had it that Jobman John's ears were as sharp as obsidian blades. What with her bad record as a Death Agent, Alice was sure as Hell not to take any particularly risky chances.
For what mortals had to say about Hell it was actually a very cozy nook. Hot at times maybe, but then again the denizens above lived in places such as Phoenix, Arizona. They were hypocrites to write such slander about the Underworld. Some things they got right about it though, such as the torture going on (souls that hated their jobs on Earth tended to hate their jobs here more), "hellish" wails (they could blame the screamo souls for that one), and Nine Circles of Hell (a very popular band name as well as being the different districts). Alice herself lived in the Ninth Circle, a privelege granted for Death Agents due to the nature of their work. It wasn't as exciting as the life she'd led as a simple soul in the seventh district, where the snobby ghost operas of Ninth Circle were replaced with grungy ghost bands.
Alice considered herself lucky really. Hell was as boring as it could be. The jobs you got were identical to the ones you had when you were alive. There were no pets in Hell as far as Alice was concerned, as all dogs went to Heaven and cats being a rare occurrence, having nine lives. They still had to pay, eat, shit, piss and sleep – though it was more of a habit thing. Being souls, technically they needed none of that but without them they'd have nothing more to do besides float around and lament their loneliness to the world.
Only Death Agents had the privilege to visit the Overworld and for that, she was truly thankful.
She flew up to the Great Latch, the portal between the two worlds and flashed her contract ticket to the operator. In monotone he spoke.
"Welcome to the Great Latch, the portal between the Under and Overworld. Please keep in mind that-"
"Uh, hello? Death Agent here."
He blinked for a few seconds before continuing his introduction.
"That contact between humans and souls are strictly prohibited under Law #24. Furthermore-"
"Unbelievable."
"If found guilty of frater-"
With a loud sigh, Alice pushed herself through the barrier and typed in the combo needed to unlock the Great Latch. She'd only been a Death Agent for three contracts but the patience needed to withstand his robotic speech was impossible. In a flash of lights, the portal dramatically began humming and shimmering with energy. The human world could be seen faintly in the distance and Alice took a deep breath before entering, his speech still going on behind her. Hell sucked.
For what mortals had to say about Hell it was actually a very cozy nook. Hot at times maybe, but then again the denizens above lived in places such as Phoenix, Arizona. They were hypocrites to write such slander about the Underworld. Some things they got right about it though, such as the torture going on (souls that hated their jobs on Earth tended to hate their jobs here more), "hellish" wails (they could blame the screamo souls for that one), and Nine Circles of Hell (a very popular band name as well as being the different districts). Alice herself lived in the Ninth Circle, a privelege granted for Death Agents due to the nature of their work. It wasn't as exciting as the life she'd led as a simple soul in the seventh district, where the snobby ghost operas of Ninth Circle were replaced with grungy ghost bands.
Alice considered herself lucky really. Hell was as boring as it could be. The jobs you got were identical to the ones you had when you were alive. There were no pets in Hell as far as Alice was concerned, as all dogs went to Heaven and cats being a rare occurrence, having nine lives. They still had to pay, eat, shit, piss and sleep – though it was more of a habit thing. Being souls, technically they needed none of that but without them they'd have nothing more to do besides float around and lament their loneliness to the world.
Only Death Agents had the privilege to visit the Overworld and for that, she was truly thankful.
She flew up to the Great Latch, the portal between the two worlds and flashed her contract ticket to the operator. In monotone he spoke.
"Welcome to the Great Latch, the portal between the Under and Overworld. Please keep in mind that-"
"Uh, hello? Death Agent here."
He blinked for a few seconds before continuing his introduction.
"That contact between humans and souls are strictly prohibited under Law #24. Furthermore-"
"Unbelievable."
"If found guilty of frater-"
With a loud sigh, Alice pushed herself through the barrier and typed in the combo needed to unlock the Great Latch. She'd only been a Death Agent for three contracts but the patience needed to withstand his robotic speech was impossible. In a flash of lights, the portal dramatically began humming and shimmering with energy. The human world could be seen faintly in the distance and Alice took a deep breath before entering, his speech still going on behind her. Hell sucked.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Alice took in a deep breath of Overworld air before remembering to take her human form. Limiting, but useful to prevent panic. In a few uncomfortable moments her shadowy form morphed and shifted to form a womanly shape standing 5'8. Her now long, blonde locks brushed her back and she put on an endearing smile before becoming visible and taking in the scene around her. The Death Agent was met with the stares of shocked, some leering, of the passer byes around her – she'd forgotten to summon clothes again. In a flash Alice zipped away to a nearby alley, their laughter echoing in her ears.
After her little mishap and a tank top, jeans, socks and shoes later, she finally opened up the contract crumpled in her left hand. Upon the singed paper was written her victim's information: Jacob Gardner. Tall. Paramedic… and that was it. Alice frowned. John must've had sharper ears than she'd thought – he was renowned for making trouble making Death Agents' jobs harder, especially those who'd wronged him. Luckily, all Death Agents had an affinity for sensing their victim's souls but without more information, the job would be infinitely harder. "I HATE YOU JOHN!"
Stronger Death Agents were able to call upon their powers of the Underworld to help them become invisible for long periods of time, fly, teleport to the shadows of the world but for Alice, a newbie, she had the power of walking and tracking down this soul whose presence she could barely feeling tugging on her mental compass. It'd take days unless she bumped into him but the chances of that happening were nearly zero, wasn't it?
After her little mishap and a tank top, jeans, socks and shoes later, she finally opened up the contract crumpled in her left hand. Upon the singed paper was written her victim's information: Jacob Gardner. Tall. Paramedic… and that was it. Alice frowned. John must've had sharper ears than she'd thought – he was renowned for making trouble making Death Agents' jobs harder, especially those who'd wronged him. Luckily, all Death Agents had an affinity for sensing their victim's souls but without more information, the job would be infinitely harder. "I HATE YOU JOHN!"
Stronger Death Agents were able to call upon their powers of the Underworld to help them become invisible for long periods of time, fly, teleport to the shadows of the world but for Alice, a newbie, she had the power of walking and tracking down this soul whose presence she could barely feeling tugging on her mental compass. It'd take days unless she bumped into him but the chances of that happening were nearly zero, wasn't it?
((OOC: I reused some/most/a lot of my old intro. I hope you're okay with that. ))