God's Gone AWOL

[2] An Ironic Interaction

[EPISODE 2: SQUABBLES]

Over the course of a few hundred years, humanity made quite a few attempts at interpreting a modern image of the place known as 'Hell'.

Most of these interpretations were grossly inaccurate. Hell, as seen in the modern and very misled human mindset, was a flaming and b****y landscape filled with the screams and wails of lost or condemned souls, and the charred remains of those who had sinned beyond repentance. A place where evil cultivated into horrible twisted demons who delighted in torturing anyone unfortunate enough to encounter them. A place ruled by a Devil with cloven hooves and a pointed red trident, who's name varied constantly depending on which misinformed individual happened to be describing them. Truly, the whole thing was a horrible and entirely inaccurate image.

The real Hell only bore the same name as the human fabrication because the word "Hell" was ironically and voluntarily adopted by demonkind after the King James version of the Christian Bible was set loose on the world like the plague, and people actually started to believe that such a terrible place, one filled with fire and brimstone, actually existed. Initially the realm in which demons typically resided had been referred to as "The Underworld", "The Underneath", "The Cavern", or in some cases just straight up "Anti-Heaven". But due to the strange myth of damnation that accompanied the image of demons arising from the ashes of a Jerusalem slum (Commonly known as Gehenna) alongside a chaotic mistranslation of the Ancient Roman afterlife, more and more demons started using the term "Hell" just to poke fun at themselves and the minds of mortals. Eventually the name just ended up sticking as the common term, and after some time, it evolved into the official title as well.

However, the true Hell still did not even begin to resemble it's portrayal amidst humankind. In fact, it was even closer in appearance to Earth than Heaven was. There were no screams or wails of the damned, there was nobody being tortured (intentionally), and there was certainly no charred remains or wandering souls cluttering up the scenery. It was actually a very clean place, with perfectly friendly residents. Not at all how anyone would expect it to be, going off of modern beliefs.

So then there begs the question most people ask. Where the heck did the flaming, screaming, toxic wasteland image come from?

The ancient Greek and Roman afterlives both had an underworld to which souls, having been separated from the body during death, would travel. To potentially reincarnate, be punished, or just dwell for eternity depending on the situation. Although such a place was not quite of the same nature, and some confusion occurred between religions as Ancient Rome decided to take up practicing Christianity after years and years of violently oppressing it.

Gehenna, the valley Hinnom a little ways outside of Jerusalem, is the next source. Having been a garbage dump, a place of punishment, and a location of human sacrifice, it actually fit the description to some extent. However, it was on Earth.

So as for the waste left behind? It was left by mortals. The punishments? They were passed down by a mortal to a mortal. And the human sacrifices? All carried out by mortals. None of it had anything to do with demons at all. It was all made by human hands.

And that was the root of it all.

Because the only places that truly resemble the modern understanding of Hell, are always made by human hands. Damned and destroyed landscapes, smoke, fire, screams of the tortured and dying, the only such places where these images have occurred in the flesh, have been in the wake of humanity's constant urge to destroy.

Hell is a projection.

Because no matter the magnificent powers bestowed upon angels and demons, no matter what destruction they can bring, there is nothing more terrifying to a human, than the power of another human.

Because to humanity, the real "Hell" has only ever existed on Earth.

...

1940.

The Warfront.

Atticus didn't know where he was. Not the town, not the region, not even the country. And he didn't care either, because at that point the godforsaken ruin of a town was already destroyed beyond any possible recognition. Nothing was left except for a few empty husks of buildings, standing in the charred dirt like the bones of dead animals killed in the raging wildfire that was World War Two. Some flames still remained, l*****g up the last bits of fuel they could find amidst the toppled brick and stone. The whole place had once been somewhere, though it was practically nothing anymore.

There was not a single sign of life amidst the ruins, however the distant sounds of artillery, gunfire, and god knows what else was still being carried over the hill along with the horrible stench of the nearby battlefield. If those soldiers who were all hopelessly awaiting their deaths knew that an angel of the Lord was wandering in their wake hardly a kilometer away, perhaps their attitudes would change. They would definitely change if they knew that this angel in particular did not give a damn about the human war, nor about those fighting it, and would not be moved or motivated no matter who died or who lived. The only thing he had any concern for, was the unnatural and rather unpleasant smell that was drifting over from their physical dispute.

Atticus was focused on the usual subject of his attention. He stepped slowly over the rubble. If not for the golden glow of fury emitting from his cat-like eyes, he may have even looked as though he was just casually strolling through. However his body was dripping with murderous intent, all of it directed at one thing in particular.

Suddenly, the scent of cinnamon reached his nose and Atticus froze. Without even thinking, he sent a spell hurling at the crumbling remains of a wall left wobbling on what used to be the nearest street. It exploded instantly, half of it turning to dust, and half of it reduced to shards of brick flying in every direction. Of course, it wasn't the wall he was aiming at, but rather the little dark figure that rolled out from behind it after the explosion.

She was coughing loudly and perhaps a little more dramatically than she needed to.

"Stop hiding," Said Atticus.

Bentley got to her feet and grinned widely, revealing a set of sharp canine teeth.

"Aw, but it's so much fun!"

"Do you think this is a game?" The tone of Atticus' voice was dangerous enough to frighten anyone else into submission. But not Bentley.

"Of course! You've always been my favourite playmate,"

He shot another spell, but she had already vanished with a burst of mischievous laughter. Even though it missed it's intended target, the spell Atticus had sent still caused a significant amount of destruction to the already destroyed scenery. He hadn't expected it to hit her in the first place, but that didn't stop him from getting increasingly frustrated.

"If you don't like playing with me, why'd you follow me all the way here?"

The voice came from behind him. She had seated herself comfortably on some more ruins, her posture almost lazy. It was all for show. Atticus knew she was just taunting him.

"I assumed you had a reason for provoking me. Is that not the case?"

"Does a girl like me need a reason to do anything?" She asked.

"The act you're putting on is sickening. Haven't you always found a reason for your actions, even when there shouldn't be?"

"You know me well, Atticus." Her smile changed slightly. Of all things, she suddenly looked... a little tired. "I actually did want to speak to you about something."

"Make whatever it is quick," He said, "So that I can get back to trying to kill you,"

His fingers curled tightly around the golden blade clutched in his hand. Bentley noticed this.

"Oh Halo Head," She said, "When was the last time you took any time to rest?"

"I will only be able to rest when you're dead," He replied, meaning every single word.

Then he struck again. This time, instead of aiming a spell, he hurled his blade directly towards the center of her forehead. But once again, the target vanished after the projectile was sent, and the blade embedded itself deep in the wooden structure behind where Bentley had been. Above it, two marble-white legs swung casually as the rest of the body lounged on what remained of the ruin's roof.

"I'm not the kind of girl who can just die," The arrogance in her voice wasn't even trying to hide itself, causing a fire to ignite itself in the pit of Atticus' stomach. "Listen Atticus, you're gonna be exhausted if you keep this up,"

Those golden eyes narrowed.

"Is this what you wished to speak to me about?" He asked, "Am I only here to listen to you flaunt your supposed invincibility?"

"You're close!"

She vanished from the roof, then reappeared directly beside him. He did not make any movement to attack yet, sensing that Bentley was still on her guard. Although there didn't seem to be any murderous intent behind her eyes, Atticus felt goosebumps prickle their way up his body. Something about being in such a close proximity to her made his heart-rate increase tenfold. It had been a while since he was this nervous.

"Listen, Atticus," She said seriously, "I think it would be wise if you disappeared for a little while,"

What was she talking about??

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you." All traces of her smile were gone now, and the playful red glow of her eyes had faded completely. "Things are difficult right now. Hell and I... we haven't been getting along. They don't like the name I've made for myself. And almost every angel, including yourself, has been aiming to get my head on a stake. Everything around me is becoming more chaotic and I'm starting to realize that it's probably not going to end well,"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because the closer you are to me, the more danger you're in. Back away from this before you're hurt because of me,"

This was manipulation plain and simple. Bentley knew he was a threat to her, so she was using some strange façade of benevolence to throw him off. Perhaps she had something big and evil planned and didn't want him around to ruin it. Or perhaps she was just trying to scare him for the fun of it. No matter what, Atticus wasn't going to fall for her fake words. He didn't even stop to consider if there was any sort of good intention fueling the interaction. Never in a million years would Bentley warn her enemy with any sort of good intention.

"I'm not going to back away," He said, his voice low, "I'd rather fight until you're dead,"

"Come on, can't you just trust me for once?"

Atticus said nothing.

"You think this is a trick or something, right?" She said, "Atticus, I'm telling you that you might get yourself killed if you keep chasing me like this. I'm warning you because we have a long history together. I gain nothing from telling you this, and you don't lose anything if you listen to me,"

"I have nothing to lose. To die for Heaven is an angel's ultimate goal,"

At this, he raised his hand and that golden blade immediately started wiggling free of the wood it had been embedded into earlier. With a light whistle, it came soaring back through the air, landing lightly in its owner's palm. Bentley's gaze shifted to that weapon and the color of her eyes changed slightly, becoming an ominously dark shade of red. Meanwhile, Atticus hadn't been able to take his own eyes off her face.

Once again, the familiar feeling of goosebumps erupted all over his body. Why was she standing so close? Was she begging for death at this point?

"I know you hate me. You always have. I don't blame you, really, with all the grief I've caused you and the rest of the holy flock," She said, sounding rather resigned. "But if you wanna go as far as to kill me, you're going to have to catch me first,"

His original intention was to engage her in a fight. There was no way she was unarmed in a situation like this. But to his surprise, when Atticus raised the golden blade, she did nothing to block. She didn't even move. So he blindly struck down. Of course, the blow went directly through her as though she was made out of thin air. And just a split second after he touched her, she really did evaporate like smoke, leaving no trace behind.

It had just been an illusion.

Laughter rang out, causing Atticus to look up. Bentley was perched several hundred meters away on another rooftop, silhouetted perfectly by the white halo of a full moon. It was pointless to try and make another attack now. She was too far away for him to be able to aim a direct spell and even if he did, she would no doubt just disappear again.

And if she disappeared at a time like this, who could say if she would ever be back?

Both of them seemed to realize this at the same time, so no movement was made.

"Think on what I said, alright?" She said

Bentley raised her arms in a salute. Two red, bat-like wings unfolded behind her. Then finally, she was gone in a puff of black smoke.

"Bentley!" Atticus called after her.

He wasn't expecting a reply of any sorts, he didn't even know why he had shouted to begin with. Bentley had already disappeared. And still he found himself staring at that spot right in front of the moon where she had been just seconds before.

She was already gone.

...