Hells Diner
The neon lights glowed through the diner window bathing the scene in blinking reds and yellows, Judge Powell stood in the doorway and took in the full horror. The stench of blood and fear assaulted his nostrils and again he fought down a wave of nausea.
The Academy didn't prepare you for this, how could it? This was no simple aftermath of a Block War this was something worse something much worse. He'd been a street Judge for 25 years, he'd seen a great deal of the human zoo and dealt out his fair share of justice to combat it, but this, this made him feel like a wet behind the ears Cadet and it worried him. A strange alien sensation had settled in the pit of his stomach, he assumed that it had been drilled out of him and buried deep in his psyche. He was wrong.
Fear.
He tasted its bitter poison and he did not like it.
His eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light only the dancing neon lights providing any illumination, with their flickering beauty Powell was able to pick out small grotesque details. Bodies, bodies everywhere twisted and mutilated in ways that proved impossible for his brain to process let alone make any sense of.
Powell took a deep breath; desperately he ran through his training in his mind. Fear was the enemy here, it impaired your judgement, made you weak, made you feel. He couldn't afford these doubts there was a job to do.
He stood taller straightened his back, took a step forward, crossed the threshold of the diner and descended into a living hell.
The floor was saturated with blood and he had to steady himself more than once as he took his first few faltering steps. After the first booth Powell thought that thing's couldn't get any worse but how wrong could a person be. The depravity visited on each of these unfortunate souls seemed to get worse the further he walked into the diner. He began to imagine the booths as a map, a road map to madness, signposted by death and the destruction of the human body. The map drew him deeper into the darkness of the diner.
The chrome counter stretched before him for nearly the length of the diner, surprisingly there were no bodies littering the stools, this area was free of the carnage displayed in the rest of the diner. A large rectangular mirror hung on the wall behind the counter and scrawled in blood on there was the answer, the answer to all the questions that had so nearly overwhelmed him,
"There is only one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to destroy.
Judge Death"
Powell felt a presence behind him, hot fetid breath on the back of his neck, involuntarily he shivered
"You tell him little judge, tell him Death is back, back to serve justice to the mindless masses. But no judgement for you yet little judge I smell fear on you, fear is good. We will meet again before the final judgement."
As suddenly as it arrived Death was gone.
Fear.
He tasted its bitter poison and it comforted him.
The neon lights glowed through the diner window bathing the scene in blinking reds and yellows, Judge Powell stood in the doorway and took in the full horror. The stench of blood and fear assaulted his nostrils and again he fought down a wave of nausea.
The Academy didn't prepare you for this, how could it? This was no simple aftermath of a Block War this was something worse something much worse. He'd been a street Judge for 25 years, he'd seen a great deal of the human zoo and dealt out his fair share of justice to combat it, but this, this made him feel like a wet behind the ears Cadet and it worried him. A strange alien sensation had settled in the pit of his stomach, he assumed that it had been drilled out of him and buried deep in his psyche. He was wrong.
Fear.
He tasted its bitter poison and he did not like it.
His eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light only the dancing neon lights providing any illumination, with their flickering beauty Powell was able to pick out small grotesque details. Bodies, bodies everywhere twisted and mutilated in ways that proved impossible for his brain to process let alone make any sense of.
Powell took a deep breath; desperately he ran through his training in his mind. Fear was the enemy here, it impaired your judgement, made you weak, made you feel. He couldn't afford these doubts there was a job to do.
He stood taller straightened his back, took a step forward, crossed the threshold of the diner and descended into a living hell.
The floor was saturated with blood and he had to steady himself more than once as he took his first few faltering steps. After the first booth Powell thought that thing's couldn't get any worse but how wrong could a person be. The depravity visited on each of these unfortunate souls seemed to get worse the further he walked into the diner. He began to imagine the booths as a map, a road map to madness, signposted by death and the destruction of the human body. The map drew him deeper into the darkness of the diner.
The chrome counter stretched before him for nearly the length of the diner, surprisingly there were no bodies littering the stools, this area was free of the carnage displayed in the rest of the diner. A large rectangular mirror hung on the wall behind the counter and scrawled in blood on there was the answer, the answer to all the questions that had so nearly overwhelmed him,
"There is only one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to destroy.
Judge Death"
Powell felt a presence behind him, hot fetid breath on the back of his neck, involuntarily he shivered
"You tell him little judge, tell him Death is back, back to serve justice to the mindless masses. But no judgement for you yet little judge I smell fear on you, fear is good. We will meet again before the final judgement."
As suddenly as it arrived Death was gone.
Fear.
He tasted its bitter poison and it comforted him.
