Orion found himself standing in a field of flowers that stretched out forever, with only an enormous castle of pure platinum standing to break up the landscape. Heaven itself- the eternal resting place of good natured souls. The palace itself was the hall of heroes and home of Bahamut, where the legends and heroes of the world enjoyed an eternal feast in their honor. Instead of participating, however, Orion was arguing with the grim-looking knight guarding the door.

"I was a tyrant! I killed millions!" Orion threw his arms up in protest, pacing back and forth before the Knight. The Knight spoke plainly, without moving.

"You protected more. Your inventions help many." Orion paused, and cackled, pointing a finger at the Knight.

"The greater good is a sham! I knew that even as I said it! There is no excuse for my actions. No hell hot enough." The Knight groaned softly, and waved a hand. A projection of light manifested between them, depicting a scale.

"All are judged at the moment of their death. Their deeds are counted, their impact measured." As the Knight spoke, black coins began to stack on one side of the scale.

"Murder. Kidnapping. Torture. Your evil deeds were many indeed, and if I were permitted to I would strike you down again and again... and yet..." On the other side, white coins began to stack higher and higher until barely, just barely, the light side outweighed the dark.

"Rules are rules. You were deemed worthy." Orion watched with incredulity, before folding his arms dismissively. Fine, he supposed he couldn't argue with that, but it left one major question unanswered.

"But where is Kolm?"

Kolm was in hell. His own personal afterlife of torture. He knew this would be his end, and had accepted it. Even if his fight against Orion was just, Kolm had committed too many missteps. Too many mistakes and hasty acts that would be mere trifles on their own, but added up. Kolm's punishment was simple and elegant.

He marched over the hill and stood over a small village below, clad in armor and bearing his sword. The troops behind him readied their weapons and awaited his call. At the time, Kolm didn't know that in the village below, his family waited. They had been taken by Orion. Perhaps Kolm could have saved them if he chose to simply raid the town, or send a diplomat. But no. He didn't. And Kolm would watch himself raise his hands to the sky, calling down a rain of fire upon the village that painted the sky and the land black with hatred, over and over and over again. Forever. As he killed his family and countless innocents again, Kolm closed his eyes and sighed.

He deserved it, after all. And no one was above punishment, not even a "Hero".

Eternal peace. Heaven. That's where everyone wants to end up in.

But Jake wasn't meant to be there. He was the villain of the story after all - he was on the war front for the wrong side and had killed dozens of people.

But he wasn't going to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

The first thing he noticed about heaven was that it was silent. There were people, thousands of them, but it was as silent as a grave.

Everyone forgets to mention that eternal peace gets boring. Far too quickly and far too soon.

But Jake isn't a quitter. He's not going to waste away to nothing. He tries to find Jane, his opponent on the battlefield who ended up in hell.

He finds Jane, only able to look from afar, as she's surrounded by a crowd of admirers who hang on to her every word.

He tries yelling, shouting, screaming into the void between them but she can't hear. There's a sound barrier between heaven and hell. After all, who wants to hear the sounds of eternal damnation?

Sati was not happy.

For starters, he wasn't just Sati, like a gods damned fishmonger. He was the great... No, the grand...master... Of something... Or other. Something else, in any case.

But it was as if something in the air itself kept repeating it, a constant murmur in his ear, telling him that it wasn't important, nothing really was, after all, and he should just relax and be happy.

Was this hell, after all? He thought by now all of the gods should know of him, and he certainly deserved it. Yet...

This was not Hell

He couldn't explain how he knew it, but it was something he was sure of. And still, he kept walking the endless clouds, without seeing anyone, just trying to put his finger on whatever it was that was wrong.

[The two angels watched as the man kept walking into the distance. There was literally nowhere he could go, he was, now and forever, in his own Haven, and nothing could ever have any effect on him until after Creation itself was extinct.

One of them spoke:

- I still don't think it was fair.
- Doubting the God's wisdom? Rarely a good career move,  particularly for our kind.
- Don't be crass. Of course I know it's _right_, the gods willed it so, it's just... I'd like to understand. 

This... _man_... has broken all of the laws, human and divine. And even a few neither even thought they should be laws before Sati, the Grandmaster Necromancer of the undead Seth Reign, decided to try to conquer the human world first just so he could have a base from which to attack the gods. 

And now, after those heroic humans sacrificed their own life to stop him, he gets to go to his own Haven? I don't get it.

- Oh to be that young again! - answered his companion, before chuckling with a sound like a brook in winter. Then added:

- Havens are filled with the things their owner have truly loved, since they're carrying them in their souls. Friends, lovers, family, pets, a favorite sunset or a particularly melodic bird... Every single instant they've truly enjoyed is there, forever theirs.

- But this one's completely barren... There's nothing here. 

- Exactly. He never had any love for anything but power, power he never truly enjoyed because to him it was just a stepping stone to an even greater one. And so, here he is... With an eternity of nothing before him. Because he had no love in his heart, even in his own Haven... He is alone.]

Kalen the barbarian woke up in the middle of a fight.

Wasn't the first time it happened to him, so he just rolled with the blow, pulled out his sword and gutted whatever had just tried to brain him before he could even clear his eyes.

He shook his head like a wet dog, trying to loose the cobwebs, and looked up.

He seemed to be on top of a reddish cliff, standing on top of a rockwall around twenty paces wide that had steep drops on both sides. The one closest to him seemed to just disappear in the distance below him, with an almost vertical drop.

He walked back to check on his attacker and saw it had been a little girl... With a meat cleaver. And tiny nubs of horns on her forehead. And filed, pointy teeth.

He sighed. Cannibals were one of those things he just could never understand, no matter how far he traveled. Might be the wisdom of the tribe still holding him back, but to be fair, eating people was just weird, as far as he was concerned.

He was still somewhat lost in his musings when the little girl stood up, ignoring the three inch gash from which her entrails were still dropping and hissed at him.

Kalen sidestepped, with an almost bored ease, then slashed low and the creature lost its legs. Another three quick chops, and then he walked back to the edge and tossed the head and limbs down, waiting to see if they made a noise when they hit something.

All he heard though, was the head's taunts and curses as they seemed to drown away to just echoes. He shrugged his broad shoulders, picked up the sword and the torso and walked to the opposite edge of the cliff.

On that side, the drop was just as steep, but not quite as long. A few hundred meters down he could see a red smoking sea surrounded by a jet black beach, where a few white rocks protruded like forgotten bones, in stark contrast to the sand.

The descent was still impossible from this side, but there seemed to be a path in the distance. He tossed the torso down, adjusted his girdle, and started to walk. Maybe there was something to kill in that beach...

Tristen was a humble man who always helped the poor. He was quite wealthy and successful. He never tried to make himself famous, but people still noticed him.

Felix was also very wealthy, but for very different reasons. He knew how to lie, cheat and manipulate to get his way.

The two of them ended up as roommates in the hospital laying next to each other. Both nearing the end of their lives.

"I'm going to send you to hell and I'm going to heaven, Tristen. Mark my words." said Felix.

"You actually think you can manipulate God?" Tristen asked.

"I don't think I can. I know I can." Felix replied.

The next day they both died. Felix stood before Jesus first to be judged.

"I demand to go to heaven. I am more righteous than you. I didn't order the genocide of entire nations in the book of Joshua. I didn't give birth defects to children that make them suffer. You have caused much more suffering than I have. I deserve to be in your place. As for Tristen. Send him to Hell. He's been a devout follower of yours meaning he supports all that evil you've done" Felix argued.

"I see your point" Jesus replied. I will let you into heaven and send Tristen to hell just as you requested.

Tristen's mind was blown. How could he? Did Felix actually manipulate God himself? Tristen knew he had done good and trusted that God knew what henwas doing.

Jesus took Tristen to the side and explained the assignment to him. "You will be assigned to a family from Noth Korea. They were sent to hell because of a technicality. They never accepted me as their Savior because they've never heard of me. They still have a chance. Your assignment is to teach them so they can move to heaven". Jesus explained.

"I guess hell isn't so bad after all when you put it that way." Tristen replied.

Meanwhile Felix was as miserable as ever. Everyone in heaven saw right through his lies. He couldn't deceive anyone. None of his friends were there. It all just felt like he didn't belong. He knew he was an outcast. He begged and begged to be sent to hell because that's where he knew he belonged. Heaven was worse torture than he ever imagined hell was.

"You! Angel!"

Destiel took a break from her reading to look behind her. Standing behind the gate to Heaven was a man in grey and white robes. Destiel sighed as she said, "Yes, Cameron? Is something wrong?"

"There's nothing here!"

Destiel rolled her eyes. "Sir, I've been here far longer than you have, I think I'd notice if Heaven was empty--"

"You know what I mean!" Cameron held up a red apple as he continued, "Look at this, this is a wax fruit! The buildings here are flat cutouts, I can't even talk to anyone else, and the streets aren't even painted in gold! I dedicated my life to eradicating all that dared to defy the will of God, and this is my eternal reward?!"

"Okay, you're upset, I understand. But I have something here that you might want to see." Destiel pulled a scroll out of her pocket and opened it up facing Cameron. "Would you like to see how Sister Pariah's doing in Hell?"

A wicked grin spread across Cameron's face. "Oh, most certainly. Show me how that damnable nun suffers."

The scroll rippled and wavered as the parchment changed to display footage from the depths of Hell. The scroll showed off a very opulent home, with fine rugs and a bed that was like a throne for the god of dreams. Sitting atop the bed was a group of about twelve to thirteen demon women, with pointed tails and horns accessorizing their sinful figures. And buried under all of them was Sister Pariah, sleeping peacefully with a smile on her face and her habit hastily tossed to the side.

Destiel abruptly closed the scroll and remarked, "You'll recall that I said you might want to see it."

Cameron looked like he was on the verge of ripping his head off as he yelled, "What the hell was that?!"

"That, sir, is the grand truth of Heaven and Hell: it's not about faith, but intent. Why you do something will always outweigh what you do. Do you know why she called herself Sister Pariah? It's because the possibility she would go to Hell for defying you was ever present in the back of her head, but she pressed on regardless. In death, she had no regrets and accepted her fate--and so she earned her reward."

"WHAT?! That's not fair! Send me to Hell! Why should that heathen be rewarded for it and not me?!"

Destiel sighed and responded, "Oh, Cameron, that reaction is precisely why you'll never leave Heaven. Your life's work wasn't some noble crusade. It was a pathetic attempt at brute forcing your way into paradise, a spiritual intimidation campaign. One you have proven you'd abandon the fruits of the minute you didn't get what you wanted. So you got this: the facetious man's Heaven. Hope you can learn to enjoy the taste of wax."

Destiel then willed the clouds to bury the gate within them as Cameron screamed and banged on the gates to no avail.

I collapsed to my knees as the weight of Orpheus' body vanished, the pain in my chest and deep within my skull vanished as well. The world felt hazy, and I took a few steps into the thick white fog that drifted around me. I squinted against the bright light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Was this one of Orpheus' tricks? It didn't feel like one, the accompanying headache was absent. I called out, my voice echoing through the infinite space. "Orpheus, we aren't done here."

"Actually," a voice answered back, causing me to search for the source of the sound, "You are done, this is the afterlife Jacob." He paused for a moment, "or do you prefer Huntsman, I understand that's what you called yourself in life."

"Jacob is fine, I never really liked The Huntsman anyway, that name was Orpheus' gift." I took a few more steps into the mist, searching for any feature beyond swirling white, "Is this all the afterlife is? A swirling mist? I'd expected more."

"No, this is just a template, a blank canvas for you to paint whatever you wish onto. That is the benefit of reaching Ilera, heaven as you call it on earth."

"Ilera, huh, so where is Orpheus. I assume the sanctimonious shit made it here as well?" I thought back to our battle in Time Square, to the blade he had rammed through my chest as I had shot a hole the size of my fist in his. Orpheus healed quickly, but not nearly quickly enough for that sort of wound. He must have died with me.

"Allen did not make it to Ilera. He is in Johera, one of the minor hells, where he will remain until he learns the error of his ways." I chuckled a bit at that, Orpheus, protector of the people, was named Allen. It was such a pitifully mundane name for someone so powerful.

"That doesn't make any sense, how could he be there if I've managed to get here?" I needed to sit down, and as soon as I had the thought a chair appeared beside me. As I sat on the wonderfully comfortable leather chair I'd summoned I asked the voice, "What got him sent there? He was a good man who fought for the good of the people? It doesn't make sense that he would be there while I, the man who stole billions and never spoke an honest word in my life would end up here."

"The difference," The voice said, "is that your crimes were only crimes on earth. You stole, but only ever from those who could afford to lose it. You lied, but only to those in power. It also helps that a good deal of what you stole went to those who needed it." I forgot about that, I'd donated a few billion dollars to charity to ease my conscience about living in luxury while others starved.

The voice continued, "Allen, on the other hand committed more serious crimes though he refrained from the minor ones you committed. He protected only those who did not need it, the wealthy and powerful. He worked in the interest of their bank accounts and hurt a lot of mostly innocent people to protect their investments." The speaker must have seen the look on my face for he assured me, "Don't worry, Allen thought he was doing the right thing, and this counts toward him a great deal, in fact if he had not broken into so many minds and rewritten the memories of so many he might have made it here himself."

"How long will he be there?" I asked. I had never particularly like Orpheus, or Allen I thought with a snicker, but he didn't really deserve to be in hell, even if it were temporary. He'd done what he'd done in an effort to do the right thing, and he'd acted on the morals he'd been taught, not the ones from this strange afterlife. Though I'd managed to avoid the wrong crimes, my choices were made out of self interest, even my massive donations that had earned me such credit were to help me sleep at night. I'd never really cared about the ones who had nothing. Orpheus had cared, he'd done all he could to maintain what he thought was moral rightness, but because he used the powers he'd been born with he would suffer? That wasn't right.

"Not long," the voice said, "Just until he repents, it usually only takes a few decades, though it may take him longer since he likely doesn't understand what he did wrong."

"And you're okay with this? Punishing a man for fifty years for something he didn't even know was wrong?"

"It is the way of things, I did not decide it, and you have no control over it. Best to put it out of your mind."

"What if I switched places with him? Can I not do so?"

"It has never happened before, but it may be possible. I will have to go and ask one higher than I, if you suddenly find yourself with a terrible headache and a pressure on your chest then know that your request was granted."

"Alright, but make sure you tell the bastard it was me who saved him eh?" He'd never believe it.

A few minutes later, the scene shifted into a black deeper than the darkest night, and the headache that exploded behind my eyes was impressive. I settled in for a long, uncomfortable wait where I hoped to discover a way to make myself worthy of the heaven that awaited.

Conflict has always been around, ever since the beginning of the universe itself. It's the nature of life. It'll never change. And those two embodied it. Even as children, they argued, even if it was over the smallest things. As they grew, their fights did too. Devastation and destruction followed them both. It only made sense that they would end up in hell.

The hero - Sandra Berks, more commonly known as the ghost - was worshipped all throughout her life. She'd never known anything different, for better or for worse. I never understood it - there didn't seem to be anything too special about her, other than her abilities, invisibility and indestructibility. All she knew how to do was fight. There wasn't an ounce of peace in her body. Always needed someone to chase, something to do, and took it out on criminals.

The villain was hated universally. Charlie Dagger was relentless. He protected anyone, good or bad, which unfortunately brought about his downfall. Everybody knew his name - mostly for protecting the world's worst. He argued that there was good in everybody. It hurt, watching him sell his life away just to see a shred of good in others. Although, he didn't seem to mind. He was infamous, fighting until the bitter end, just for others. And he was shunned for it, locked out of society. Not even his mother cared for him anymore. Yet there wasn't even a slither of hate in his heart. As pure as you can get.

See, I'm a guard. Neither angel or devil - perfectly neutral. Not many see my fate. I watch over individuals and decide where they go. Now, it'd been a few years since I'd heard either of the duo's names. I still remember the contoversy surrounding my decision to send Sandra to hell. Tragically, Charlie passed while fighting, protecting a single mother with two sons.

"Hello, Charlie."

"Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here?" He pressed, looking at me with fear and distress.

"Unfortunately, you passed. A shame, really." I replied. I'd done this thousands of times before.

He looked at a loss for words, "..How'd I die?"

"Doing what you do best. Protecting others." I gave him a look of reassurance, but it was met with sadness and confusion.

"I don't understand. I'm a villain, aren't I?"

"You tell me."

A silence filled the void we were stood in. It wouldn't be long before I'd have to take him to heaven.

"I killed so many people. I murdered Sandra Berks, damnit. Destruction follows me, wherever I go."

"There's a thin line between heaven and hell. You taught me that."

Silence returned.

"I'm going to heaven?"

"When you're ready, yes. We have all the time in the world. This is the afterlife after all. I'll answer any questions you have, should you need me."

"I don't belong there. I'm a murderer, after all."

"Yes you do. It was you who believed there was good in everybody, right?"

"At best I'm a murderer and at worse I'm a war criminal."

"So what? Sandra Berks is in hell. And you did the world a favour. If yoy didn't start that war, the third world war would have started. Now come on, take my hand."

Reluctantly, he did so. A bright, white light blinded us both. The next thing we knew, we were in heaven. The sun shone brightly and perfectly white, pearlescent gates opened.

"Welcome to heaven."

He sighed, then turned to face me. "This isn't some trick, is it?"

"No. Do you need anything before you enter?"

"Can I see Sandra? Apologize maybe?"

"If you must, I suppose. Although she can't go into heaven with you." I clicked my fingers, and Sandra appeared, dressed in an oversized, stained, once white shirt and muddy shorts.

"What the hell? What now?" Agitated, she looked at us both, slightly disgusted.

"Sandra?" Charlie asked tentatively, probably worried for her reaction.

"What do you want?" She snapped, "I was in the middle of something, so you better make this quick, you dick."

"I just wanted to say sorry. I mean, I killed you. And you were admired by just about everyone. And you're in hell. You don't deserve it one bit."

"Was that it, Dagger? I couldn't care less. Actually, Hell's not even that bad." She replied nonchalantly.

"You're a HERO. You should be relaxing, in heaven," He argued, "And don't call me that."

"Again, I really don't mind."

"But you should! You're suffering in hell. Maybe if I didn't kill you, you could have gone to heaven..."

"What don't you get? I don't want to be in heaven!"

Charlie pointed at me, "You! Is there any way we could.. swap places? I should obviously be in hell."

"Not a chance. I'm not letting this devil into heaven. I do respect you, though. Even when you're dead, you want to give up your chance to finally rest to someone else, who doesn't deserve it one bit."

“The verdict has been made and approved,” the monstrosity's voice boomed, reverberating to the core of his bones. “You’ve been deemed worthy of Heaven. Your good deeds outweighed the bad ones — you’ve inspired millions to repent. Your words and actions led people to seek the truth of afterlife.”

“That’s complete and utter bullshit,” snarled Villain, baring his teeth. Any unease he might have felt at the way his stomach warbled in the sheer presence of the monstrosity was washed away by the heat of his own outrage. “They did that because they were fucking terrified of me. I killed them, and you know it damn well! You don’t get to erase all that I’ve achieved solely because of your ridiculous whims!”

The monstrosity’s main eye — or what Villain assumed to be a main eye, the size of a tire, encased in multiple, bigger-than-Villain’s-entire-body spinning rings which were also dotted in smaller eyes that flickered around randomly — focused on him.

“The verdict has been made,” it repeated blankly.

“I’ve killed people,” barked Villain. His fingers twitched, but he wasn’t quite stupid enough to attack the thing outright. “I’ve tortured people. I’ve held them hostage, I kidnapped them, their families, their kids. I’ve made them beg for forgiveness while they’ve done nothing wrong — I’ve broken them and pieced them back together, solely to break them for the second time. Shit, if your holy book was a bucket list, I’d have checked all of it off thrice over by the time I reached twenty!"

“Good deeds outweighs the bad deeds,” the monstrosity just told him. It didn’t seem quite interested in what he was ranting about.

Villain gritted his teeth. He couldn’t even feel pain in this Gods-forsaken place, not even as he clamped his jaw hard enough that in a normal place they’d ache.

“Where is Hero?” he spat out finally, glancing grumpily at the idyllic landscape spilling out everywhere his gaze could reach. “Perhaps I shall find them and find out just how many times over can you die in Heaven. Or how far you can injure someone before your miraculous pain resistance wears off."

This gave the monstrosity a pause. Its eye spun like a soccer ball between all the rings before refocusing on Villain.

“Hero is currently located in the fourth ring of Hell,” it said pleasantly.

Villain blinked. “Excuse you?” he snapped. His fingers curled into fists, knuckles paling. “Hero — the saint, helping-grandmas-in-crossing-roads and saving-little-kittens Hero is in Hell?”

“Correct."

“I want a switch,” he managed through his teeth, barely contained rage dripping from his voice. “That’s the good, martyr thing to do, yes? I want to switch. Give Hero here, I’ll go to Hell.”

The monstrosity stayed quiet for a second and then its rings flipped a bit faster, the eyes on them blinking with dizzying speed.

“Correct, that is a good, martyr thing to do,” it murmured, “another good deed to your account, Mr Villain. I congratulate you. Unfortunately, a switch is impossible. Hero is not only judged of his own misdeeds, he also willingly stepped up to take accountability for yours due to the guilt of not having stopped you sooner. It is his penance."

Villain felt like tearing the hair out of his head.

“So what — I, who spent my entire life torturing and killing others, who sacrificed everything for my work, am supposed to sit my ass in Heaven with all the bundled toddlers and grandmas in smelly bonnets while Hero gets credit for all I've done? For all I've achieved, for all the terror I've brought?” He slammed his hands against his things, anger only rising at the complete lack of pain it brought. "Where’s your famed fucking judgement, you stupid pile of sentient rings?!”

“The verdict has been made,” the monstrosity said for the third time.

Villain opened his mouth, ready to cuss it out properly, but it didn’t stick around to wait. Its main eye turned away from him and the rings jingled — the sound grating in the absolute silence — and the next moment, it was completely gone, like a switch had been flicked on.

Villain cussed it out anyway. The landscape, beautiful and oh-so-irritating, seemed to mock him with its sun kissed hills and flowers with impossibly iridescent, delicate petals.

It didn’t matter. Villain was not letting the soft-hearted, dim-witted Hero claim credit for his life's work, whether it took him tearing down Heaven itself to accomplish that.

He’d always been great at tearing institutions down, in any case. It was time to put his skills to good use — not even Hell would stop him from ripping the Hero apart, piece by piece.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.