Hi I know I didn't post a lot for a bit but I'm still alive and well. I have uncovered an old fanfic I wrote decades ago, or at least it feels like that. Anyway I just wanted to archive it here for u to read. Have fun!
Wouldn’t it be more reasonable if the Devil didn’t exist at all?
Merodien sat in a narrow alley, explosions echoing as the houses were blown into the air. But everyone in Hell had long grown used to the loud bangs. Pentagram City was a wild place — either you were one of the great Overlords who ruled the city, or a tiny imp like Merodien, absolutely minuscule at the very bottom of Hell’s pyramid of ranks. Together with the Hellhounds, although at least they could defend themselves. Imps barely reached up to someone’s knees; you could use them for a blowjob and then toss them aside, assuming you didn’t kill them shortly after. Because surprisingly, imps had good lung capacity.
Another blast tore through the air, and this time a scream could be heard in the distance. Gunshots followed and silenced it. Blood clung to every corner because everyone here thirsted for it. Revenge — even though Merodien wasn’t even in the Pride Ring. But revenge ruled everything here. Business, people, their actions. Everything was driven by revenge. It pressed down on the sinners like a massive ruler, and yet it didn’t even rule Hell itself.
Why does the Devil even exist?
Merodien asked himself that question as he trembled with fear. He felt it — as if it slowly stroked the back of his neck and whispered to him: Poor thing, you don’t want to die, and yet you only died a few days ago. So early to arrive in Hell and already on the brink of death again, so close to dying. Again. And then to appear in the Apocalypse District of all places. Oh, even he found it disgusting to watch himself squeeze out of the hole he’d been thrown into in the afterlife. Even though the hole was more like a portal in the “sky,” it felt as if Merodien were being crushed from all sides.
The iron barrel he hid in was cold, filthy, and stained with blood. Holes riddled the metal — probably from gunfire. But light shone through them, at least some kind of light. Even if he would never see light again, never real sunlight, he would enjoy it more than anything else. Morphine syringes lay in a corner of the alley. Used, of course, and completely filthy. But sinners took anything they could get their hands on — no one could endure this place without something.
Sobbing came from the small barrel, driven by fear.
Goddammit! I can’t do this anymore!
Tears ran over his fingers. With his other hand he grabbed his twisted horns. They were hard and smooth but sharp at the same time. His horns felt like scales. And his hoofed legs cramped beneath him as he sat.
Footsteps slowly emerged from the background. Merodien forced himself to hold his breath. The footsteps stopped.
“Well, that was a nice kill again. Did you see that? The woman’s face was completely blown off! That was so insanely awesome!” a deep voice boomed from the entrance of the alley. “We should come to the Apocalypse District more often, it’s so insanely awesome here. You can really farm souls here. Now I get why the Overlords love this place so much.”
Overlords?
“Yeah, but let’s get out of here before someone blows our faces off!”
“Yeah yeah.”
The conversation grew quieter and more muffled until it faded into distant murmuring and disappeared.
-JL