Page 7 of Hell’s Weapon

“Good one, sir! Are we supposed to believe any of that? Are you testing our mental capacity or something because I really think you might belong in one of these jumpsuits with us if you think we were going to fall for that!” He tugs on his orange scrub top to push his point.

“Yeah, come on. What’s the real reason? It’s for T.V., right?” Number Sixty-Two yells, a caucasian man with a closely shaved head and clean face.

Officer Stick-up-his-own-ass takes a visible inhale and glares at the several other heckles he receives before he mutters, “I told you they wouldn’t believe me.”

I only catch it because of my supernatural hearing.

The shouts and questions get louder until a burst of smoke appears beside the Head Guard and a second later, Hades is standing at his side. Taller than Zephyr, who is several inches above six foot, Hades looks polished and gentlemanly. He gives the air of extreme wealth in his perfectly black tailored suit, charcoal grey shirt–sans tie–open at the collar, and perfectly styled black hair pushed back from his face.

The room breaks into several panicked curses, disbelieving gasps and the scraping of shoes against the polished flooring as some shoot out of their chairs. Scanning the crowd, I look for anyone who doesn’t look shocked by a God appearing out of thin air right in front of them. The spy hides it well as I only spot wide eyes and shocked expressions.

Hades keeps the dissipating smoke rolling around his lower legs. I roll my eyes at the theatrics, but I guess it’s one way that will ensure the humans start getting with the programme.

“Welcome recruits.” Hades speaks with a voice I know he reserves for those he is about to sentence to Tartarus. It's soft, melodic, with the intention of reassuring petrified souls before he pulls the rug right out from their feet. It works as the room goes silent once more.

Hades gestures to the crowd, opening his palms like he’s greeting old friends as he continues. “I hope you’ve been treated well in this facility. And that my head of recruitment has informed you of the real reason you’ve been brought to this prison.”

“I’ve tried, sir,” Zephyr says.

“Well, then. I will reiterate,” Hades replies, perfectly calmly. “Starting with introductions.” He puts a hand to his chest. “I am Hades, better known as the God of the Underworld. Yes, Hell exists. So does Heaven for that matter, and several other lesser planes, but you’ll learn about those in due time.

“I already know who each of you are. For I have hand selected you to be given the opportunity to interview for me. Every ten years we put up to one hundred of the most notable people through our recruitment process. We have several roles available in Hell and if you’re successful you will be slotted in according to your talents. You will of course be compensated for your role and from what I’ve been told it's a more than generous package.

“I look forward to watching you over the coming weeks and seeing which of you progress through our particular challenges.”

“What the fuck is this?” a woman from the far corner shouts.

“Did I not explain clearly enough?” Hades focuses his gaze on the one brave enough to speak. “I feel if I need to explain yet again I may have made a mistake in choosing you for this process.”

“But you can’t be serious. Hell isn’t real.” She challenges further.

“I can assure you it is. And since I took over, it is thriving,” Hades tells her firmly. She shrinks under his tone. Shutting up and wisely sinking back into her seat.

“What is this process you keep mentioning?” Wyatt calls out next. I turn to see the light in his eyes as he waits for an answer. He’s intrigued at the very least, but I would bet money that he is actually feeling excited.

“We will shortly be transferring you to our own facility, where you’ll be subject to three separate challenges as part of the recruitment process. You will need to pass each one to move onto the next, and only if you pass all three will you be offered a place in my employment. You will also be sitting several educational courses so that you learn about the realm, its people and the potential roles you’ll be filling.”

“What kind of roles?” Wyatt presses.

“Some of you I expect will join Officer Zephyr’s team, his regular role is ensuring the smooth running of Tartarus.”

“The torture place?” Wyatt’s voice practically vibrates with glee now, as does his body.

“So, some of you are familiar with me and my realm. Good. And yes, Tartarus is the place we hold the most despicable souls, and ensure they endure an eternity of torture for their crimes.”

“What else?” one of the guys next to Wyatt pipes up, number Forty-Seven. “What other roles are there?”

“Well, we have an excellent protection team, departments which ensure that Elysium is maintained–that’s our capital city, and where most of our population lives. We also have a council to ensure our education, health and social systems run effectively for our citizens and of course those that work directly under me to ensure the souls that come our way are given the treatment they deserve.”

More murmurs break out across the room as I see these inmates start to be convinced. Number Seven, a pale blonde woman at the front asks a question I don’t catch as I’m too busy listening to another group. The chatter quietens as Hades speaks again.

“You were all chosen because of the talents you have demonstrated here on the Earthly plane. You may have been labelled as criminals in this life but I need recruits that question the black and white; are happy living in the morally grey. Don’t misinterpret me, however, whilst Hell does not adhere to the same moral codes you humans have constructed up here, I will not tolerate disobedience. My realm runs effectively and without much conflict or prejudice. You disrupt that and you will not be part of my service for long.”

Amen to that, the racial and homophobic bullshit up here is appalling. It still exists at home, but we’ve come a long way forward from the absolute crap that still resides amongst humans.

More questions start being fired at my boss but he halts them simply by lifting a hand. Already he’s commanded the respect of every single person in this room. “There will be more time later but I’m afraid we are on a schedule and need to be going.” He moves to the doorway behind him, the one that leads out into the communal sections of this prison wing. But as he pushes the double doors it’s not the hall beyond that can be seen. No, it's a portal. Our ticket home. I can almost smell Elysium from here and my skin breaks out in tiny prickles at the anticipation of finally being back in the Hell realm.

I have to travel to various planes for the jobs I get sent on semi-frequently but this is the longest I’ve had to stay on the Earthly plane in a long time.