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The end was not nigh. The Armogeddon did not happen and Furfur had to get back to work. Everyone had to get back to work - the Grand Duke’s orders. No one was particularly happy about it because no one liked the jobs they were stuck with, well almost no one. There were a few twisted individuals who got joy out of what they were doing. Especially those in the rehabilitation wing. Just left of the Dung Pits.
Furfur counted himself as one of the many who did not like their jobs. It’s why he tried to get out of admissions in the first place! And yet, on his days off here he was. It was requisitions the rest of the time. He did have breaks though! That was something, only the breakroom he slipped into was always occupied or had the coffee machine out of order. The microwave was always messy and no one ever cleaned the small fridge out. Furfur didn’t even bother opening it now considering it probably had new life growing at this point.
The only thing in the breakroom that was reliable was the hellfire dispenser. He’s gotten good at using the disposable cups, not like in 1941 when it was a gamble on whether he got something to drink or got burned. Most of the time it was the latter.
“Still can’t believe he’s immune to Holy Water! I saw it with my own two eyes.”
“You only have one!”
“Yeah, well had two then. Splashed water at the window too! Damn traitorous snake!”
Furfur listened to the conversation outside of the breakroom. He wished he did see it with his own eyes. It would have been a sight! Regardless of the outcome. As much as he hated the snake because Crowley was part of the reason he didn’t get his promotion, Furfur was still enamored by the demon. Got him through some lonely nights, thoughts of that snake.
Even now, there was a faint ache in his loins at the thought.
But some days, he couldn’t think of the demon without the knowledge of his choice of poor companionship on Earth. Azirapalala. Furfur refused to call that damn angelic enemy anything but the wrong name! Furfur held some dignity after all!
With a sigh, Furfur grabbed a small disposable cup and poured himself a cup of hellfire. With a satisfied feeling he moved to take a drink when the sound of heels caught his attention.
Shax.
“Guess who gets to take over the traitor Crowley’s flat?” Shax oozed confidence and eagerness for her new assignment. She knew Furfur would be a bit upset about it and that crinkle on his forehead confirmed it faster than any sound could be made. She liked Furfur but she liked being on top of the pecking order even more. She had ambitions!
Furfur made a sound of disappointment and then a surprised yelp as his hand was burned again.
“Congratulations.” Furfur managed while his thoughts echoed something completely different. He had to get back to work anyway, but he stayed for a few minutes to listen to what Shax had to say. To be polite of course, she was a tolerable demon as far as demons gone.
Half listening as she trailed him with hopeful plans. There were two individuals - human - who looked worse for wear standing on one side of the hall and another standing across from them.
“I see you have work to do.” Shax pointed out, she’d help him. But she had a new assignment to tend to first. She had to break the news to the snake first, which was going to be a total thrill!
Scanning them for a moment he picked the one standing on his own first.
Francis Dolarhyde, alias The Great Red Dragon. Furfur wanted to chuckle at that, but set it aside as he went through the usual questions and received the expected answers. The human starts out polite and shy but quickly becomes something more intolerable. Which didn’t help with the fact that Furfur already wasn’t in a good mood and he didn’t have time to hear about his alias.
“Go down the hall, turn left and then right and walk straight. A demon will be there to take care of your needs from here on out.” Furfur kind of grinned at the thought, it would be the other way around of course. No human soul was catered to in Hell. They all got some kind of punishment or just rewards for a life lived in sin and all of the above.
“What if I don’t? I am the Great Red Dragon!” The human snapped back, Furfur leaned back with a sigh. Really?! He wasn’t paid enough for this. In fact, he wasn’t paid at all. Which was an insult on top of everything.
“Buddy, this is Hell. Welcome to the rest of your existence. You don’t get a choice, you committed how many murders and other crimes while living? I’m not the one who put you here, you did.” Furfur pushed back, one of the disposable demons looked like they were ready to assist if needed. Charmed, but unneeded. He simply added, “Go down the hall, turn left, then right and then walk straight.”
“I-” The human started.
“Next!” Furfur interrupted and watched as the human was pulled and pushed into the direction he was instructed to go.
The two that were standing with each other, looking like they went through it themselves approached his desk. Furfur gave a sigh, really. Did they have to do everything together? Which gave him an inkling on what will happen. They want to be together, so they won’t be moving forward. Poor things, but not really.
“Name.” Furfur called out, making it clear that he was no longer dealing with the little human dragon. With a stamp to his file, it was final. Pulling out the next file he waited. Not bothering to pay much attention to it.
All files will be delivered to the Lord of Files later on.
“Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” Hannibal introduced himself, fighting down the awful scents in the air and the grime that covered every surface. Watching Dolarhyde get his just rewards was entertaining, what the actual punishments were was beyond him. The figure before him reminded him of a mixture of a LARP cosplay and an overworked office worker. Oddly enough, the man before him almost reminds him of paintings of William Shakespeare.
“Uh-huh. Occupation and manner of death.” Furfur huffed lightly at that, at least this one answered as he should have. A look crossed the disheveled human and Furfur fought off a grin. Didn’t like the dismissal. Furfur gets that though, he just handles it better because he had duties to carry out.
“Former psychiatrist and plunged off a cliff.” Hannibal answered, choosing his words carefully because he wanted to see if this man would pay more attention, up to now it seemed like he was just going through the motions. Of course, that meant sacrificing the actual happenings of his departure from the world of the living and the glorious becoming of his Will Graham.
“In all fairness, I think we survived a few minutes.” Will pointed out, trying his best to not pay attention to everything going on around him. It was unnerving and he was pretty sure he saw an individual with nipples running down his protruding stomach. And another with horns and pretty sure someone had a toad on their head.
“Ah, you’re probably correct.” Hannibal conceded. They no doubt succumbed to their injuries. Or perhaps this was a twisted dream? The latter was unlikely, but a dreamer could cream. Could they not? It would have been nice to pay his former doctor and companion a visit.
Furfur took a moment to regard the two human souls before him. Taking care to do something he rarely does. And that was to pay attention. Taking the folder before him into consideration, it was thicker than anticipated.
Glancing through the introduction page, which informed him of the date of birth and death and lifetime occupations, education and immediate family. He could access the entire family tree if he so wished. But that was pointless. What he paid closer attention to was the sin count and reasons for them. It was extensive.
Licking his pen, he made a note on the cause of death as plunged off a cliff and succumbed to injuries. Fully aware of the look he just got for licking his pen. Quirking a brow, he eyed them both for a moment.
“If you don’t mind, I have a question.” Hannibal found himself saying, making sure to be polite despite the fact that the individual before him bordered on rude at times. Will was staring at the signs with a pinched brow. But Hannibal didn’t blame him, it wasn’t every day you saw a sign about licking walls.
Normally Furfur would brush it off, but it was also rare that someone asked him to ask a question before just blurting it out. So what more could this demon do but state, “Go ahead, ask away.”
“You said this is Hell, why is it like this? There are various continents, belief systems and even literature paints Hell as having nine levels.” Hannibal found himself asking, it wasn’t everyday he got to sit down with someone and ask such questions. It was nearly intoxicating. So much so that rudeness was easily forgotten as were the atrocious scents wafting through the room.
Fair enough question. But for someone who collects stories about church collapses, it was understandable.
“This is admissions. What happens after admissions is not my jurisdiction, culture and beliefs are taken into account but doesn’t always hold weight in final placements. I’m just doing the paperwork. But no, Hell is not like what you see in the pictures. It’s far more mundane and worse at the exact same time.” Furfur explained with a shrug, of course, he knew more than what he was saying but it really wasn’t his business to be spewing information about different sections or job areas or punishments that were commonly dealt out.
Furfur expected that to be the end of that, so he pushed forward and filled out a few more notes on Hannibal Lecter’s file.
“So if this is Hell, that means you’re a demon?” Will managed to cut in, he did try to be as polite as possible because of the company he was in. Namely, Hannibal’s. But that question was on the top of his mind. Among a great deal of other questions.
“Yes.” Furfur confirmed as he finally reached the end of Hannibal Lecter’s file.
“Are there different kinds of demons?” Will pushed, now that he was getting some answers he couldn’t help himself and he knew that Hannibal would very much appreciate the knowledge as well.
“Yes.” Furfur confirmed once more, eyebrow quirking at the boldness of the up to now quiet one.
“What kind are you?” Will asked, he wondered just how many there were.
“Overworked.” Furfur couldn’t help it, he was amused by the lack of amusement at the response. Of course, the answer was simple. The majority were fallen angels, just different classes. Of course, there were some exceptions where humans become demons.
In the future, Furfur thinks that either one or both of these humans had a rare possibility due to skills they possess. Of course, standing against human history they were just dots and nothing to brag about. But they were understaffed. Of course, it isn’t Furfur’s decision and he doesn’t get a say in the matter. But it was something to ponder. Maybe start a betting pool?
Furfur pushed the conversation along. He was nearly done with Hannibal Lecter’s file.
“Would we be able to inquire if certain individuals are in Hell?” Hannibal asked, not entirely hopeful of gaining an answer, but it didn’t hurt to ask. He was curious about Abigail Hobbs. If she made it to Heaven or Hell.
“You would have to fill out a form and then if lucky, someone would get back to you sometime this century. But you’re only human, so I wouldn’t bother waiting.” Furfur pointed out before reminding them in a colder tone, “You’re two dead humans who earned your way here. This is Hell, not a resort or a business opportunity. You’re on the bottom of the pecking order and when I am done here, you both will be told where you go and that would be it.” Of course, he could make a note of recommendation on their files depending on how this wraps up. Not that his words have meant much since 1941.
With a heavy stamp, he deemed Hannibal Lecter’s file finished.
“You’re going to have to go down the hallway, turn right and then left before going straight. Take this slip with you.” Furfur instructed with a quick tear of the slip of paper. But it would appear that the human was reluctant in leaving his partner behind. With a rare nicety, he allowed for him to sit until Will Graham’s process was finished. But two disposable demons would be accompanying them both to ensure that they follow the directions provided and not try anything foolish.
He moved onto Will Graham’s file. Considerably thinner but no less interesting. Had anyone else known about the interesting humans, they would have taken the cases over and probably started a betting pool or created a poll to see what happens to either individual.
They should be lucky that they got good ol’ Furfur.
“Name.” Furfur requested, he knew it of course but it was protocol and he wasn’t about to slouch on that. He’s already gone outside of routine quite a bit as it was.
“Will Graham.” Will answered, correcting himself stiffly by offering ‘William’ due to the fact that it was on his birth certificate. He hated it though, making him sound like something he wasn’t.
Furfur nodded distractedly, going through the motions as he licked his pen one more time, “Occupation.”
“Former criminal profiler, former teacher.” Will explained, those were his most current ones. He did have earlier jobs but he thinks those were meaningless in the long run. His most recent, in the past few years, were the ones he provided.
Furfur nodded, made notes of both. Everything thus far checked out although he made a mental note of how many dogs this individual had. Who even needed that many dogs? And why? What was the point in owning animals?
Furfur was going to ask further questions when he was beaten to the opportunity.
“Why is there a sign regarding wall licking?” Will muttered, staring at the sign in question before turning his attention back to the demon before him. Demon. Not something Will expected to be communicating with. Let alone sitting across from. Tired. Overworked. Underwhelming. Hannibal fit the definition of demonic better than this individual. But Will knew better to say that out loud. Sometimes, the filter between his mind and mouth actually did its job.
Furfur paused, that was not the question but it immediately brought to mind all the instances sudden outbreaks broke out of demons not working and licking the walls enthusiastically. And then the repercussions from the Dukes and the Dark Counsel over the matter.
“Fifty three cases this century alone! Demons stopping their work to start licking the walls! And no, it’s not a revolt or anything like that. It’s just a bunch of idiots stopping what they were doing to lick the wall. It doesn’t even taste good! Sometimes hallways were hard to go through because of this sudden influx of crazed behavior!” Furfur blurted out, it was frustrating and he hoped that hearing about this doesn’t start a few demons! Because the backlog that will cause is going to be a nightmare.
Furfur noted the shock on both humans' faces. Oops.
With a shrug, Furfur added, “We still don’t know who started it. There’s a rumor that the original tempter did. There’s also the rumor that it can get you high.” He was a traitor of course, but calling him by old titles was a way for demons to not stir trouble or hard feelings over being betrayed by someone who for so long has done such great deeds for Hell. And it was a way for Furfur to speak about his crush without causing trouble.
“The original tempter?” Will asked, his mind fell on Lucifer because of all the stories.
Furfur knows where the human mind has gone. Humans gave all the credit to their lord instead of the original tempter as Crowley had intended, no doubt garnering some favor in the long run by that action alone.
“Not who you think. Best leave that unspoken about.” Furfur managed, his own hard feelings creeping to the surface. Being forgotten, ignored and then having an angel picked over him. It burned. And then having Crawley becoming a traitor on top of that. It was best that this conversation ended before he found his mood worsening.
“I’m curious, if it’s not who we think it is. Who is it? Because thus far, I have to say, nothing fits the stories?” Will found himself pushing, he didn’t know why but the thought of this original tempter not being who he thinks it was, is a tantalizing mystery in its own right. It’s partially why sometimes he enjoyed what he did while working with Jack. The mystery, hunting down a target.
“What did you expect? Brimstone and firepits?” Furfur poked, laughing a bit. Where humans got that idea was beyond him. It was hilarious and often got a few demons joking. Whoever gave that impression to humans deserves a raise because it was hilarious.
“To be honest, I was not entirely sure what to expect.” Will found himself admitting. It was clear to him that an answer probably wasn’t going to be given. But Will had the distinct feeling that there were some hard feelings there, giving him the implication that it was a personal matter.
Furfur laughed at that before straightening up and stamping Will Graham’s file.
They were done. And Furfur declared them so.
“Hannibal Lecter you will go down the hallway, turn right and then left before going straight.” Furfur kept himself firm, pity the humans were interesting enough to make work a bit less dull today and as a courtesy he was going to separate them gently. He didn’t entertain a debate or anything more.
The dismissal was clear and Hannibal stood and took his leave. Polite, but burning with a desire to cause harm. Furfur grinned slightly. He wondered just how long that fire would remain.
Turning his attention to Will Graham and stamping his file and tearing off a slip of paper, handing it over to the grudging human with a firm, “You’re going to go straight until the dead end and then take a left and then a right. Give that slip of paper to the demon in charge of that sector and he will see to your stay.”
Sending these two off were considerably easier than a few of the earlier souls. Checking his watch, he still had a few hours to go.
Unfortunately.
“Next!”
Sequel: When Cannibal's Come Knocking