Gods of Death

"You are going to have to run that one by me again," Victor said. He placed his hand on the rock that was conveniently placed by his left side. It was warm for a rock, but not unpleasant. The red light that darted across it was generated by the pits of fire and lava that heated Victor's back; he chose to ignore that. "What part don't you understand?" The first old man was grouchy, Victor decided. He leaned heavily on a carved wooden staff, his curly beard an unforgiving white against wizened brown skin that made Victor think of his grandmother. He had eyebrows to match and they wiggled as he moved his eyes upward to look into Victor's own. His eyes were not normal, Victor reflected; no one has eyes that piercing. "Pretty much all of it," Victor said with a smile. "I'm giving you a lot of trust based on the really warm flow of lava that's less than fifty feet behind us, and the generally surprising nature of everything that's going on, but I'm still not really taken on the details." "It's simple, really," The second old man was kinder-looking, but in a way that seemed hideously fake. He was fat and bearded in a way made him look like a version of Father Christmas who'd drunk too much whiskey over the years. His eyes were sunken, his skin lined with red broken veins, and his hair receded badly. He was thick set and the fingers that clasped his hands together were like sausages. Victor could not shake the idea that 'Two' (as he liked to think of him) had spent a fair portion of his life engaging in something exceptionally distasteful. "You died," the man continued, "You're dead." "Yeah, I got that. Or at least, I got that that was the story you were pitching." "It's not a pitch!" Number three was small, like he'd stopped growing aged eight and just got older. He was beardless but dominated by wrinkles and had skin that was almost completely black. His voice was high-pitched and grizzly: "It's just how it is." "OK." Victor shrugged. "Let's say I believe you - I've died and now I'm in Hell. Which one of you is Satan?" One laughed. It was short-lived and tinged with bitterness, but it was definitely a laugh. "Satan is gone. Long gone. We are the Gods of Death now." Victor nodded slowly. "You know, that poor excuse doesn't help your credibility," he commented. "It's not a f*****g excuse!" Three seemed agitated. "It's how it is!" "Whatever," Victor was dismissive. He was coming to the realisation that he was in some serious s**t, but he didn't want these dickheads to know that he was worried. "We are offering you an 'out'," said Two calmly. "An 'out' from Hell?" "An 'out' from death!" Victor considered the fat man’s words. He had to be careful; too much arrogance and they might withdraw their offer. "And what does this 'out' entail?" he asked. "Doing what you are f*****g told!" interjected Three. The others ignored him. One went on: "We have what you might consider a contest," he said, his eyes locked onto Victor's. "There are seven..." he paused as if picking the next word carefully, "individuals that we would like defeated in combat. Should you manage that, then we have the power to send you back to your life completely sin-free." "Sin-free?" "Absolved of all your mortal sins," clarified Two. "What about my overdraft and credit card debt? Can you absolve me of those too?" "Easily." Three was grinning. "And any other..." now it was Victor's turn to choose the word carefully, "troubles that I might have?" "They'll be gone," confirmed One. "Think of it as a completely new slate. You'll be back on Earth, living your normal life, and everything you have done badly up to that point will be simply erased." "Quite the deal, but I'm not really the right person for combating anything. I'm more of a 'talk my way out of a fight' kind of guy." "Oh, you are exactly the right person," argued One. "We didn't choose you by accident." "Really? Cool. Is it some hereditary thing? Because I have no idea who my Dad even was, so if he's involved in any of this, he passed on nothing but his spunk." "It's not hereditary," Three said with a cackle, "but you are the right person." "And what if I don't take up your offer?" Two waved his plump hand, palm up and open, to gesture to the surroundings that Victor had been purposely avoiding. With a sigh, he looked at the place in which he now found himself. Classic Hell, he thought; underground setting, rivers of lava, pillars of jagged black rock. Victor sighed. "I do what you want or spend an eternity in Hell?" he asked. The three old men nodded their heads in unison. "Do I get some weapons? I mean, I'm hardly an expert in guns, but a couple of Uzis, a day of practice and then I think you could just point me at the people you want done in." "It's not like that," One said. He reached to his side and pulled an object from the aether; at least, Victor didn't think it had been there beforehand. "A sword?" Victor said when One held it up in front of his face. Of course it was a sword, what else could it have been? "Not just any sword," Two interjected. "This is the sword of -" "Yeah yeah," Victor cut him off. "I'm sure it impressed King Arthur or whoever, but honestly, I don't give a s**t. Can I take a look?" One passed him the weapon, hilt first. Victor didn't want to admit it, but he had never held a sword before; in his life, a sword was something in a film, not a tangible weapon that balanced in his hand. He had to admit privately that the feeling of holding the thing was exhilarating. It was longer than he thought it'd be, the polished silver sheen reflecting the red light of Hell. There was something inscribed across the blade in a runic alphabet that just looked like pretty patterns to him, and three jewels inset into the hilt like traffic lights in the wrong colours: blue, colourless and green, all of them sparkling magnificently. Carefully, he transferred it to his hands so that he was wielding it. For a millisecond, he considered attacking the men before him, but sense held him back; after all, doing that would leave him in Hell with no way out. "Cool," he said with a smile. "So who do I have to kill?"