Last Rites

Ch. 1 - Penance (Part I)

It's a dark and misty night. Rodin, the demon weapon smith, and sole proprietor of Gates of Hell bar, emerges from the front door. With keys jingling in hand, he locks up for the night. He shoves both of his hands into his coat pockets, then proceeds to amble down the dimly lit and seedy alley where his bar is nuzzled in between. He strolls by a few trash cans filled to the brim with garbage, an alley cat or two tearing through rubbish, and even a homeless man passed out drunk on the ground. The man barely wakes up enough to acknowledge Rodin.

"Spare some change?"

Rodin stops in his tracks and stares down the man.

"C'mon, buddy. Anything will do."

Rodin takes a step closer to the man and squats down in front of him. The overwhelming stench of piss and spoiled milk doesn't bother Rodin in the slightest.

"What are you willin' to do to get yo hands on some cash?"

The homeless man cannot see through the jet-black lenses of Rodin's sunglasses to get a good read on what Rodin's hinting at. The homeless man's eyes widen a bit as he believes Rodin's insinuating a sexual favor. He struggles with this fact.

"Well..." the homeless man stutters. "Whatever you want... I mean..."

Rodin chuckles under his breath.

"If that's the case," Rodin says as one of his red eyes shines through a lens. "Maybe I'll help myself to that soul of yours."

The homeless man freaks out, but before he can escape Rodin grabs the old man by the throat and slams him against the brick wall behind him. The homeless man struggles to break free from Rodin's grip. The homeless man repeatedly hit Rodin's arm, but his efforts are in vain. The homeless man goes into shock, then goes limp.

Moments later Rodin continues walking, leaving the homeless man slumped over and unconscious on the ground. His face rests in a small pile of twenty-dollar bills. How much Rodin leaves behind should be enough for the old man to not resort to whoring himself for a while.

Stepping out of the alley and onto the city sidewalk, Rodin wipes his bald head clean of the dewy air. There's hardly anybody out this late. Rodin saunters about with no place in particular to go. Maybe he'll go home. Maybe he'll find himself in a shitty diner. Or maybe he'll go to New Zealand since he's always wanted to go there. He passes by a department store and catches his reflection in the window. He stares intensely at himself.

Hmph. It's been a hella'va long time since I've looked at myself, Rodin thinks to himself.

Rodin tenderly strokes his chin.

Still got it.

The homeless man emerges from the alley and stumbles onto the sidewalk. He frantically scans around for Rodin, then catches Rodin gazing at his reflection. The homeless man's barely able to stand on his two feet, let alone walk a straight line, marches toward Rodin. The man's determined to confront Rodin but over what is unclear.

"Hey!"

Rodin ignores him; too distracted by his sexiness.

"Hey, mac!" he says as he gets close enough to barely grip Rodin's arm to force Rodin to look at him.

The size difference between the two of them is laughable as Rodin has a good four feet on him.

"What is this?! Huh??" asks the homeless man as he shoves the fist full of dollars in Rodin's face. "What are you trying to do, huh?! Set me up?! Get me killed?! Fucker..."

Rodin cannot be bothered to pay attention to the man.

"Who – who do you think you are, pal?! I don't – I don't know this! Nope! Not anyone of it!"

He throws the money back at Rodin but falls to the ground in the process.

"Aye, shit!" he coughs.

Rodin's head slowly turns to the pathetic man on the wet ground.

Dis muthafucka has officially stepped on my last nerve, Rodin thinks with a curled lip.

The homeless man sprawls around on the ground.

"Let's say you and me go for a little trip," Rodin snarls.

Rodin yanks the man up by the scruff of his collar with one hand. Again, the homeless man tries to break free and fails. Rodin snaps his fingers and a portal to Inferno opens in the middle of the street.

The homeless man's eyes grow big in horror as he suddenly pulls his motor skills together enough to put up a real fight. Now dragging the man, Rodin casually walks over to the portal.

"No! No," yells the homeless man.

"Wasn't plannin' on doin' this tonight, but fuck it. We ain't got nothing else better to do."

"No, no, no, no, no!"

Rodin steps in the middle of the glyph on the ground and the two of them vanish into thin air on their way to hell.

They reappear in a dark nightmare of what closely resembles a one-bedroom apartment mixed with some cavern elements. Everything's black and red. The heat's insufferable. Monstrous wails ring throughout in the distance. Rodin releases the homeless man as he gasps for the thick and musty air.

"Sorry I didn't straighten up. Wasn't expectin' company."

Rodin's place doesn't come close to being a mess, with the exception of a few dirty socks scattered about and an empty pizza box on his dinette table; he keeps a clean home. Everything is well organized. He even has a number of framed records mounted on his walls. The homeless man frantically looks around him, whipping his head to the left, then right, then left again.

The man speaks gibberish.

"You seem to be havin' a hard time."

"Where is this place!?"

Rodin uses pyrokinesis, and creates a purple flame on his finger to light a cigar he pulls from his pocket.

"You really can't tell?" Rodin says as he takes a deep drag on the cigar.

The homeless man swallows hard, coming to the realization of where he's at but refuses to believe.

"Am... am I dead?"

"Nah, you're very much alive."

The homeless man begins to sob.

Goddayum, Rodin thinks as he rolls his eyes.

"Get up. And stop yo cryin', man! Don't need that type of shit in my spot."

The man struggles to maintain his composure.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"The last time you said somethin' along those lines you were on some fuck shit."

"I know! I – I apologize!" he says crying through his words like a child. "Please, let me go. I promise I'll live a better life!"

"By doing what? You've wasted half of it. All for drugs? Cheap liquor? Or the thrill of dumb shit?"

The homeless man grovels at Rodin's feet.

"Please! Please, I swear I'll change."

"...What's your name?"

"Walter."

"First of all, get da fuck off muh leg, Walter."

Walter releases Rodin's leg. Rodin takes a few steps away from him and talks to him with his back turned. He cuts his head to Walter.

"Secondly, are you a man of faith?"

Walter sheepishly shakes his head.

"You will die down here, Walter. Might as well make yourself comfortable."

Walter doesn't respond.

"You wanna hear a story?"