Waiting.

Waiting in line.

That was all that Walter Faust was doing.

Nothing more than just idly standing about as he waited in line.

How long had he waited for?

He really didn’t know.

It could have been minutes.

It could have been hours.

The exact details actually didn’t matter anymore.

Not when the line he was standing in was literally within the depths of Hell.

The ground was dyed black and red in colour. Obsidian rock made up most of the surface while bright red and yellow streams of molten slag trickled through the surface cracks. The sky was not much different either, it was plagued with maroon clouds that seemed to be the result of molten ash.

Walter should have been suffering, or at least felt some discomfort from the blistering heat from such a ‘hellish’ landscape. But instead, he was just calmly standing with his back straight, his arms hanging by his side, all without feeling even the slightest bit of pain.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was currently ‘dead.’

It was an odd sensation to say the least.

But then again, there was no-one alive to share the experiences of what ‘being dead’ was like so perhaps it wasn’t odd.

He could feel the hard obsidian rock through his leather shoes, yet he didn’t feel the intense heat of it.

He could feel the dry stuffiness of the air, yet it did little to bother him.

And he could tell that it was the same for the others waiting in line.

The person that stood in front of him was a tall and lean man who wore some casual clothing. His appearance gave the impression that this man was the ‘average Joe’ that could be found virtually anywhere, apparently including Hell.

Like Walter, this man could be mistaken as ‘alive’ from a distance, if one were to ignore the massive chunk of his head that was missing.

The area around the missing chunk was pulpy, fragments of his skull and brain mixed together into an ugly mess. From the looks of it, this poor soul was bludgeoned to death with a bat. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he wouldn’t be here in the first place if he didn’t.

On the other hand, the person that stood behind Walter was a woman with a slim but tight figure and wore a formal and expensive looking knee-length dress that was red in colour.

Unlike the man, she didn’t appear to have sustained any fatal injuries. Instead, she somehow maintained her gracious appearance. Such an appearance would make one wonder what the cause of her death could have been.

But it didn’t take long for him to figure it out.

Although it was faint and almost indistinguishable, he was able to spot the bloody drool stains around her lips and chin. While it was possible that that was just ‘natural’ drool that was somehow bloody, it was highly unlikely.

There was also the possibility that the blood was the result of some sort of blunt trauma. However, her unblemished appearance told him otherwise. The cause of her bloody drool and thus her death must have been the result of something other than physical injury.

With that in mind, Walter concluded that this woman was very likely to have been poisoned, the drool being a result of her body trying and ultimately failing to eject the poison out of her system. From the fact that she coughed up blood, it must have been a long and painful death too.

However, neither of those two people appeared to be that affected by their respective injuries other than the occasional twitch from the woman’s mouth. It would seem that she also held some inlying anger post-mortem.

It was pretty much the same for everyone else that stood within the line. Most of them had an outwardly visible mortal wound such as bullet holes or a slit throat while their clothes remained the same as they were before their respective wearer’s untimely death.

Walter himself was wearing the same outfit he wore everyday, a black pinstripe suit with a dark green tie. He would also typically wear either white or black formal gloves, as well as black leather shoes.

But most importantly, he actually appeared as if he was unharmed.

He had no gaping holes in his body, nor did he have any blood or drool dripping from his mouth.

In other words, he died in ‘perfect shape.’

“The one with the green tie. Are you ‘Walter Faust?’”

Just before Walter could dwell on these thoughts any longer, his train of thought was instead broken by a deep yet unique sounding voice. When he turned to face the source of the voice a few feet to his left, he found that it actually belonged to a demon.

A real, living breathing demon.

Although he did spot many demons flying around while he was waiting in line – this was still Hell after all – those demons were mostly boney and skinny who flew around in the skies via their massive wings.

However, this demon was a hulking monstrosity which dwarfed Walter in size. He could only describe it as something akin to the minotaur from greek mythology, except with a ‘demonic’ flair. Its head was similar to that of a bull’s head with a large, muscular upper body which was a lot bulkier than its lower body.

Two horns protruded out of its temples. From a pitch black shaft, it ran over red, yellow and finally glowing white at the very top, like melted metal yet to be cooled. The ‘demon minotaur’ wore predominantly black ‘medieval’ plate armour, with red outlines on the plates, and dark, ashen grey chainmail underneath the plates.

The skin of the creature not obscured by its armour looked like dry and hardened lizard scales coloured in shades of blacks and reds.

Some sort of chainsaw appeared to be attached to its back with leather straps, the very appearance of which betrayed the overall ‘medieval theme’ the minotaur had going on.

Other than that, the whole creature itself seemed to exuberate an aura of regressed dread and malice towards anything and everything it rests its eyes upon.

However, Walter found that he was actually surprisingly calm in this situation. When he responded to the demon, his voice was clear, concise, and confident, as if he had nothing to worry about.

“Yes, indeed, good sir. And who might you be?”

“This one’s name is unimportant. Only your name is.”

While ‘one’s’ voice was commanding and exuded an oppressive aura, it didn’t seem to display any emotion either as it spoke.

“The one known as ‘Walter Faust’ had previously signed a contract with her ladyship; the Devil. You are now eligible and are required to attend your ‘appointment’ with her.”

A small crowd around them immediately began to murmur and whisper amongst themselves as a result of this sudden turn of events. But Walter himself continued to remain unmoved by the minotaur's words.

Because as the person who signed the contract, he was of course expecting it. And as such, it didn’t take him long to reply.

“Alright. I see no problem.”

The minotaur only responded with a gruff snort through its snout, before it turned to face the direction opposite to Walter and took out the chainsaw that was attached to its back. After revving the chainsaw twice, it began hacking away at seemingly nothing.

Before Walter could even question what it was doing, the space itself was ‘cut’ by the blades of the chainsaw and torn apart, creating some sort of portal. In less than a minute, that portal expanded to a size roughly taller than Walter thanks to the efforts of the minotaur.

Since its face was similar to that of a bull, Walter couldn’t tell what kind of expression it held when it beckoned him over to enter. Nevertheless, he still walked through the portal as he had no other choice.

What he was greeted with was an environment completely different to the one he was previously in. Unlike the hellish landscape ‘outside,’ he was now in some sort of ‘modern office.’ Or at least, that’s the best way that he could describe it.

It appeared very much like an office that would belong to an upper tier boss of any given business corporation, albeit one that took on an obsidian black colour scheme, matching the charred surfaces outside.

At the direct centre of the ‘black’ office was an office table with the usual office utensils: pens, pencils, papers and even an actual computer. There were also drawers and cabinets placed against the back wall of the office with papers or decorative pieces placed on the surface.

In fact, this office didn’t look that much different from Walter’s own office back when he was still alive.

The portal itself, along with the minotaur who opened it, soon disappeared from Walter’s sight as he took his first steps into the office. Although none of this was completely unexpected, the actual experience of walking into the office through the portal was still quite jarring to him.

“Ah there he is! The illustrious Mr. Faust himself! How have you been doing lately!”

A few seconds later, he was greeted with a warm and welcoming voice, as if the person speaking was talking to an old friend. The voice itself was youthful and full of vitality, her words being coupled with laughter as she spoke.

“Well, ignoring the fact that you are dead of course.”

“Oh you know me. I try to stay positive in light of negative events.”

Walter would only curve his mouth upwards into faint smile while giving a short head nod when he responded.

“Although, I do wish that your day has been treating you better Lucile.”

The person he was speaking with, ‘Lucile’ sat on an office chair on the other side of the office table as she greeted Walter.

She was also the Devil.

Her appearance was mostly human, with her only inhuman features being her scarlet red eyes and the two curved white horns that protruded from her temples and curved backwards to the back of her neck.

She seemed to have a slim figure which was covered by the formal white business suit with red trims that she wore, making her look like a typical human boss, if one were to ignore her red eyes and horns.

She also had fair white skin which paired along nicely with her long silky white hair. In fact, her two white horns was almost impossible to spot due to camouflaging with her hair.

It was her mostly ‘human’ appearance combined with her overall ‘harmless’ demeanour that made it hard to believe that she was indeed the ruler of Hell.

One could even say that she looked ‘holy’ and ‘angelic’ thanks to her ‘immaculate’ white presentation.

Regardless, she still responded to him with a casual and friendly tone.

“Ahaha, it’s still the usual you know. Nothing much ever changes down here. But please, this isn’t about me, it’s about you. Oh and please do take a seat.”

Once again, Walter nodded to display his understanding as he took his seat opposite to Lucille. Soon after, she made a joking shrug as she continued to speak in her cordial tone.

“Alright let’s go the preliminary stuff over with first.”

“Preliminary stuff? What do you mean by that?”

In response to his question, she casually shrugged again when she replied.

“You know, just the typical stuff. We gotta make sure that you actually ‘belong’ here.”

As she said that, she paused the chuckle to herself before she continued.

“But don’t you worry, it shouldn’t take long.”

“Really then? Why is that?”

Like before, she still kept a friendly demeanor while she explained.

“Because as someone who signed a soul contract, you already made Hell your official place of residence in the afterlife.”

When he heard what she had to say, he felt his mouth twist upwards into a grin. On the other hand, Lucile’s friendly demeanor gradually faded away as she seemed to have noticed that something was up.

She opened her mouth to speak but was instead interrupted by Walter before she could even say a word.

“Actually... I think you’ll find that it was because I signed it that I won’t be ‘residing’ in Hell at all.”