Nightmare Crusade

Chapter 7 - Inferno

A cold draft awakens Jack from his catatonic state. He sits up and massages his sore neck. It feels like he had slept an entire century. Something wet squishes under his bottom, and he fears the worst--but it's only a sandwich, just like he had asked for. Jack takes a bite of it while examining his surroundings. He sees that he's in some sort of dungeon made of reddish cobble. An iron door with bars, which leads to the outside, is embedded in the wall before him and similarly barred windows sparsely line the perimeter of the dungeon.

Realizing he's naked, Jack gets to his feet and searches the room. He sees Norman sprawled awkwardly on the floor, not moving and eyes closed. On the other side of the cell is a pile of tattered clothing. Jack tosses his sandwich and quickly grabs pants, a leather belt, a shabby, jet-black jacket missing its right sleeve, and a pair of near-rotted boots. After getting dressed, he turns his attention back to the sleeping dragon.

"Get up, Norman!" Jack barks, "We're in hell and it's all your fault!" He marches over to the dragon and kicks him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and roughly waking him up.

Norman wheezes and slowly tries to stand, his vision blurry and legs shaking. He scans the area in confusion before the memories of what happened to get him in this situation rush back and hit like a speeding carriage. He begins to panic and hyperventilate. Jack shakes his head and aggressively clutches him by his shoulders.

"You stupid dragon!" Jack screams at him, "I knew you were going to cause me problems! Though I must admit, I had no idea eternal damnation was one of them! Holy shit, you degenerate gecko!" He lets go of him and turns away. "What the hell am I to do now?" he yells out. Norman watches the man pace back and forth before he abruptly rams his fist into the iron door. "Gah, FUCK!!! This door doesn't even have a handle?!?! Do they not have door handles in Hell???" He then notices Norman watching him, who swiftly looks away. Now even more furious, Jack strides over to him, grabs him by the scruff of his neck, and slams his long snout between the bars of the jail. Norman lets out a small squeak.

"Get a good, long look around, buddy," Jack whispers into his ear hole, "Endless pain and suffering, as far as the eye can see."

Norman gazes out into the frightening, hellish wasteland. Obscene death metal can be heard pounding loudly from beyond. Figures of all shapes and sizes are lined up at a pair of massive, rusted gates as disfigured ghouls shamble aimlessly along the edge of the cliffs overlooking lava lakes with wicked flames that lick at the souls of the damned who are nailed to the cliffside. Black mist froths over the pointed mountains on the horizon and contorted screams of unending torment are carried by their nauseating, poisonous winds.

It was Hell alright.

Norman exhales suddenly after noticing he was holding his breath. He stumbles away from the window next to Jack.

"Well, at least the music's good," Jack admits.

The cell door rattles. Then it swings open, and in limps a malnourished-looking fiend with orange-ish skin holding a bloody sickle and a ring that carries keys and punctured teeth. He clears his throat and with his swollen left hand, digs a dirty paper out from his butt crack in his overalls and begins reading off it, "Uhh... Come forth, ye. Hell awaits. The Unholy Gates lie waiting as you see. There's no price to pay, just follow me. Wait, shit..."

"Okay," Jack responds impatiently.

"Sorry, but I'm new at this," the demon admits, blushing and looking up from the script. "The more experienced demons are all swamped with the big influx of fresh souls that just came in today. There must be a big war going on in the mortal world. Please don't get mad at me, okay?"