Hell's Hero

by Temple Madison

  Hell’s Hero

  Temple Madison

  Published: 2016

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-313-3

  Published by Liquid Silver Books. Copyright © Published: 2016, Temple Madison.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the USA

  Email support@liquidsilverbooks.com with questions, or inquiries about Liquid Silver Books.

  Blurb

  Dante, a cross between a devil and a superhero was created in Hell. Once he was complete, he woke up in a dark alleyway in the middle of NYC. He smelled of sulfur, and was dirty with coal dust. Stumbling along in a world he knew nothing about, he happened to meet a man called Fate, who became his ally. These two men were immediately drawn to each other sexually, and the longer Dante lived in the human world, the more he questioned his existence, until he began having graphic nightmares of his so-called birth. Eventually, he became aware that his creator was Satan, and that he was put on Earth to lead an army to destroy it. He struggled with this knowledge until the day finally came when he knew he had a very important choice to make—Superhero, or Superdevil.

  Prologue

  HIS footprints sizzled behind him as he walked. Like an amorous lover, the flames smoked, twisted, and crawled up his body. Heat radiated from his very being, creating colorful rainbows of evil all around him. His name was Satan, and he was a ruler, a king, the sovereign leader of Hell—a dark hole that was forged by God for Satan and his fallen angels. Hell was only one kingdom that resided in The Black Heavens, a pathetic counterfeit, a replicate of God’s universe, with many lesser worlds around it that Satan warred with for control.

  But it was his dream to control the big world—God’s world—the world known as Earth.

  Now as he sat on the craggy rock-hewn cinder that served as his throne, he heard someone enter, and turned toward the intruder. When he saw who it was, he leaned forward threateningly. “You dare enter my private chamber without my consent?”

  “Please forgive my boldness, sire, but I can stay silent no longer.”

  “I am not in the business of forgiveness. Leave.”

  “Sire, indulge me, please. I have heard some troubling things, and feeling the way I do, how can I sit idly by and allow you—”

  “Allow me?” Satan shouted as he jumped up from his throne. “You do not allow me anything. I am the ruler here, Dismas. You seem to forget that. If you forget again, it will be my pleasure to see that it is carved into the rock that already marks your grave in the hills of Jerusalem. Now, get out.”

  “Perhaps I chose the wrong word. I apologize.”

  “You chose the wrong word, I chose the wrong man.”

  “What? What do you mean, sire?”

  “You might as well know, so it will be my pleasure to tell you. That day I saw you hanging on the cross beside Jesus, I considered you for my second-in-command, but passed you up.”

  “Passed me up? What do you mean, sire?”

  “I wanted Gestas. He was my first choice, but because he repented, I couldn’t touch him. That left you.”

  “You should be glad he turned on you,” Dismas growled. “Gestas always was a spineless coward. You wouldn’t have liked him. As for myself, I take pleasure in killing. I love the look on a man’s face when he’s being strangled.” A cruel, callous look filled his eyes as he shifted them back to Satan. “While Gestas was repenting I was watching this so-called Son of God when He took His last breath. While the sky grew dark, and the wind blew I was infused with such ecstasy that it was better than having sex with the adulterous, painted whore, Lexine, and her girls.”

  “Bah! A lot you know,” Satan said bitterly. “While you’re hanging there getting your jollies, I was in the battle of my life. This man they called Jesus was busy battling me for the keys of Hell, and won. As a result, every one of my captives followed Him into Heaven, and His death left the door to eternity open for Gestas, and anyone else in that miserable world who chose to follow Him.”

  “But how was I to know?”

  Satan pounded his scepter on the floor as he shouted, “You should have made it your business to know!”

  “If I am so inadequate, why did you make me second-in-command?”

  “Because there was no one else, you fool! The mass evacuation emptied my caves, my quarries, my pits, and even my coal mines. You were the only one available. Fortunately for you, this lofty seat spared you from torture, but now I see that in your arrogance you also expect to be given free access to my chamber.”

  “Well…this…this is certainly unwelcome news, sire. However, I am still second in command, and as such, it is my job to advise you. Please hear me.”

  “All right,” Satan said begrudgingly. “I will indulge you…this once. But before you begin, know that you walk on shifting coals, and I will not sit idly by while you spill your traitorous words regarding anything in my kingdom. If you do I will have you thrown out to shovel ashes and embers for the rest of your miserable extinction.”

  “Sire, you must know that everything I do is in your best interests. I think Dante—”

  “Quiet! I won’t have your filthy mouth utter his name yet again. I’m tired of you blaspheming him. He is my prize, my masterpiece, and he will lead us to victory.”

  “Sire, it is not like you to be so taken by one of your creations.”

  Satan gazed at Dismas curiously. “Is that the reason you don’t like him? Is it because I place him in such high regard? Do you feel he is a threat somehow?” Satan stared at him curiously, and then added, “Perhaps you will understand if I show you just how he was created.”

  “Sire, I assure you it will not change anything.”

  “No?” Satan replied, and then asked, “Have you ever seen Dante?”

  “No, sire, but that doesn’t matter. Once he begins living among the men of Earth his perspective will change. I beg you to reconsider your decision to send him there. Have you forgotten that it is scattered with—Christians?”

  “I know that better than you, Dismas. Have you forgotten that I walk up and down in the Earth constantly?”

  “Then why…?”

  “Because a new age is approaching, Dismas. There’s a cultural movement going on, a spiritual consciousness among these mortals, and if Hell doesn’t dig itself out of the old school, and meet it head-on, we will be lost. We need a new age warrior, and Dante will be that warrior. Only one of many that will lead us to victory.”

  “I’ve never seen you so excited over one miserable creation.”

  “Miserable creation?” Satan repeated, and gave him a calculating look. “Apparently you need a little convincing. Come with me to the time tunnel, where we will go back to the day that Dante took his first breath. I could sit here and tell you about it, but words are inadequate. Until you see Dante standing big and beautiful before you, you will not get the full impact of what this creation means to me. Come, now, and be impressed.”

  The tunnel was like a winding snake, and it had an odor like a stagnant pond. Every step echoed like a ghostly cry, and even Dismas heaved a sigh of relief when the two of them looked ahead and saw the opening that would take them to a set of tracks upon which two capsules were parked, side by side.

  “Do we have to do this, sire?” Dismas moaned. It’s a waste of your valuable ti
me, I assure you.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of deciding how I want to waste my time. Meanwhile, I want you to make yourself comfortable in this passenger capsule here while I get in the one connected to it where the controls are.”

  With a sigh of submission, Dismas did as he was told.

  When he saw that Dismas was comfortable, and his dome had been adequately pulled down over his head, he climbed into the operator’s side, and on the dashboard littered with buttons and dials he began making all the necessary adjustments but one. When he was done, he then pulled the see-through dome down over his head, and spoke into a conduit used to channel his voice to the adjoining capsule. “Dismas, are you ready?”

  “Yes, sire, but again…”

  “Silence!” He made the last adjustment that smoothly propelled them into the dark canals of Hell where they began to swerve, sway, turn sharply one way and then the other. There were no swirling lights, only the sensation of losing your breath, and being squeezed through something too small for your body. Just when it seemed that it would never end, they finally arrived at Satan’s dark, mysterious laboratory.

  “We’re here,” he said softly, as if he was imparting a secret to a trusted friend. He then got out of his own capsule, and helped Dismas with his. Before entering, each of them stepped onto a pedestal, and waited while a laser light scanned their bodies. Once that was done, each of them stepped into the laboratory.

  Satan smiled as he looked around, and then turned toward Dismas, and said, “Come, my vigilant disciple…and prepare to be amazed.”

  * * * *

  Dismas looked around, totally unimpressed. He could feel a sinister stillness in the crude little room, and noticed that the fissures in the rock made a shrill, menacing kind of music.

  “The minute we stepped over the threshold we became mere holograms,” Satan whispered. “They can’t see us, and we cannot touch anything here. If we do, we will be instantly swooped up into a vortex and literally thrown back to where we came from.”

  “I understand,” Dismas said softly as he continued to look around.

  The semi-darkness hung in corners, in crevices, under rock, and even formed shadow creatures that climbed the rock walls, ornamenting the dark, swarthy face of Satan’s creation in both light and shadow. Dismas was standing beside Satan, and saw him gaze down into the open chest of his creation as if he were considering his next move. Dismas could see that his attention was drawn to the ingredients that crowded his shelves, and lifted his own eyes to gaze at each one. When Satan had made up his mind, he pulled down snake venom, hair of the werewolf, blood taken from the knife of a slasher, the hungry bite of the vampire, growl of the rabid wolf, and the cry of torment from damned souls. As he opened each lid, forlorn voices rose from the vials, and when he mixed them all together, a wild, chilling call of evil echoed around the rock-hewn room. With these, he poured, mixed, solidified, formed, molded, and twisted, spending several minutes studying each facet very carefully until he was satisfied.

  Just then Dismas leaned forward and looked closely at Dante’s face. It was a ruggedly handsome face that had the arrogant look of a high sea’s pirate. His lips were firm yet sensual beneath a faint beard, and his clear, penetrating gray eyes were ringed with dark feathery lashes that made his eyes look mysterious, almost as if they were lined with kohl.

  He looked at Satan’s hologram. “This is Dante?”

  “Yes,” he answered softly. “God-like, isn’t he?”

  Dismas then glanced back down at Satan as he continued to work over the creature, and saw merciless lines carved across his horned brow, his eyes searching for anything inconsistent—any imperfection or flaw. When none was found, he gently touched Dante’s body. He stroked, pressed and pushed the flesh unmercifully, and with every test, the results were positive.

  Dismas’s excitement grew when upon close examination it showed that the flesh of the being had remained soft, almost dewy, and the lips were lush and full, even a little pouty. When he looked closely at the eyes, he saw the shining insanity of a serial killer, the terrified scream of a dying woman, the cries of men, children, and women in war-torn countries, and sighed. As he beheld the created being he began to feel something in his nether regions. It was a feeling of want, of desire, of need. He had to admit that this creation was so beautiful that it could tempt the angels in Heaven.

  But the evil creator wasn’t through.

  The knuckles of Dismas’s fisted hands blanched white when he saw Satan add the dark shadows of terror, the last breath of the dying, and the gurgling cry of the moment of death. And then as a bonus, he gave him a remarkable endowment.

  “What’s that for?” he asked the hologram.

  “To do his job he must have extra abilities, strengths and powers that a mere human doesn’t have. Now watch this.”

  Dismas turned back to Satan, and saw him fill his creation with a gigantic rage that built inside him, a disgust at the people around him, and last, but definitely not least, he added the most important ingredient. He pulled from his shelf a vial of decency because along with the horrors of the world, he had to have a certain amount of civility to balance him out. This would give him the ability to live among men, giving him the desire for normal things like eating, sleeping, thirst, comfort, pleasure, and sexual gratification. And then, like the cherry on top, he made him able to talk, move, and think like a normal man.

  “You can see that he is very different from all the other creations I’ve given life to,” the hologram whispered, as if afraid someone else could hear. “They were all miserable failures. The men were ugly, and the women even uglier. They all crawled around like animals. But it doesn’t matter, because Dante will make up for all of them.”

  “What made the others so different?”

  “They were created en masse, but as you can see, I took time with Dante. He’s one of a kind, a prototype that will be tested severely. Not only will he be strong physically, but mentally as well. To excel in his job he must know more than they know, be stronger than they are, and have a sharp-edged wit about him. He’ll have knowledge of both facts and figures, and since he will be a stranger in a strange land, I will give him the ability to quickly learn every inch of that miserable metropolis. If he passes this stringent test then I will build more just like him, until I have an army that can’t be defeated.” He turned and pointed at a blackboard filled with math equations, squiggly lines that made no sense to Dismas, along with crude, drawn pictures. “There on the wall is a log of everything I’ve done to him. If he passes this test it will be a simple task to make more just like him until an army has been amassed.”

  “This is what makes me nervous, sire. Hell is the ultimate land of evil, and Dante will be surrounded by both good and evil, exposed if you will, to the goodness and decency that exists there. It will be like a disease. A disease that he can in no way escape. In that environment he cannot maintain the evil nature you’ve given him. I fear the test will fail, and he’ll be contaminated by the goodness of the world. If that happens all the work you’ve done, all the evil that you’ve instilled into him will be defeated by good.”

  “I know I’m taking a big chance with Dante, but listen and understand. When God created man He gave them free will, knowing He was taking a big chance. Can I do less than God? It’s true I might lose him, but there’s always the chance that Dante might prove to be the biggest and most wonderful discovery to ever come out of Hell, and an army of men just like him would mean sure victory against anything that comes against us.”

  “But what if he fails?” Dismas asked. “That would be devastating.”

  “Don’t you think I’m prepared for such a catastrophe? I am not stupid, Dismas. There’s no way I will let him go into that world of both good and evil without an edge in my favor. I have filled him with everything evil, but most importantly, I have given him no knowledge of God.”

  “But he might learn.”

  �
�He might, but by the time he does he will have become so overcome with evil it will be like speaking to a child in a language he doesn’t understand. It will mean nothing to him. In other words…it will be too late.”

  “Ahhhh.” Dismas smiled and nodded.

  “What you see before you is a flawless specimen. I’ve done everything I know to make him perfect.”

  Just then the two men heard a sound and turned to look. Their eyes widened as they saw Dante begin to move, stiff and rigid at first, but then his motions became fluid and smooth—until he was standing straight and tall, casting a large, foreboding, ice-cold shadow.

  “Behold Hell’s Hero,” the hologram whispered, his voice like a soft echo.

  A verbal gasp came from Dismas’s throat when he saw the glorious form of an ancient gladiator, a vigorous warrior filling the room. Dismas paced around him, looking him up and down. He was not only beautiful of face, but of body. His chest was broad and as he moved his muscles rippled with strength. Dismas wanted to touch him, to touch his hard, striated chest. It was like granite, sharp, defined and thick. He was also decorated with flawless tattoos that lay across his broad chest and arms, each one undulating like an ocean wave as he moved. His eyes shone with just enough evil to make Dismas fall in love. He turned to the hologram quickly. “Sire, it’s entirely possible I have been wrong about Dante. To make sure nothing goes amiss I would like to volunteer to go with him.”

  “Go with him?” Satan repeated.

  “Yes, sire. I didn’t want to admit it, but now I must. You were right about me. I have been arrogant. Let me do this to make up for all of that. To show you that I can be trusted. I wouldn’t allow Dante to know who I am. Don’t you see, sire? I could watch over him and report back to you, keep you updated on his every move.”

  “Well…” Satan’s hologram said while pacing and rubbing his pointed chin. “I do need someone…” He turned quickly to Dismas. “But you’re not to interfere. He has to do this on his own, otherwise it won’t be a true test. You understand that, don’t you?”