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- daily painting# 75: Hells Waiting Room
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What can I say? It threatened my Nerds, so I knew it meant business. Tiberius Stone is a practical, unrepentant asshole, who has never gone out of his way to do anything remotely kind to anyone in his life. Has in fact earned him a very permanent, very uncomfortable stay in hell. If hell is a waiting room with terribly uncomfortable plastic chairs, bright lights that hurt in your eyes, and endless corridors that make you dizzy when you stare at them for too long.
Say what you want, Tiberius is very honest with himself. He has no illusions about waking up to fluffy clouds and harps. Endless pain and torment?
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It seems a little harsh, considering Tiberius is a businessman, not a monster, but justice is a tricky rope to dance on. And Tiberius has never shied away from disregarding negligible things like decency or the oh-so-holy higher moral ground to make a business deal profitable. Six or seven maybe. Go figure. The girl rolls her eyes. Tiberius has never given much thought to the afterlife or any higher entities he might encounter there.
But if he had, he supposes he would have expected some ridiculously vague prophet and answers that only lead to a hundred more questions. What does he care that the world is lost? So Tiberius does what he does best, he argues. Bloody pests is what you are.
Violently so. So you better pull this off, got it?! And maybe he feels something like wariness, like fear, in the face of that rage, but Tiberius has never been known to cower in the face of anything. He observes her more carefully though. Notices the cracks in her human facade, the ones less noticeable than the hair and skin. The smoothness of her skin, free of wrinkles, freckles, scars, blemishes of any kind. The lack of fingernails. The lack of arteries. The rage melts off her expression as quickly as it appeared.
‘Hell’s waiting room’ was a dream replacement for Victorian slums
You were never going to settle for anything less then the very best you could get for yourself. And well.
Tiberius would concede the point, if Tiberius was the type of person to concede anything. No take-backs and excuses to back out. The girl scoffs. Think of your mission.
Do you truly think a hero has what it takes to accomplish this? Do you think a hero would choose one mission above the fate of millions of lives? At that the girl smiles. She snaps her fingers, but there is no actual sound following the gesture.
Tiberius feels his body lock up in response, as though a thousand thin strands of rope at the end of his every muscle have all been pulled at the same time. He freezes in place, trapped motionless, unable to so much as breathe. Then everything around him, everything in him, dissolves into nothingness. Tiberius jerks awake with a violent shudder. His memories are blurred, the encounter with the odd secretary of Death already fading from his mind, slipping through his grasp no matter how hard he clings to them.
The flats had bathrooms, toilets, hot water. The former slum-dwellers were thrilled, at first, but their euphoria did not last.
The shoddily built blocks developed leaks and draughts. The lifts and heating broke down. Get The International Pack for free for your first 30 days for unlimited Smartphone and Tablet access.piawebcmalong.tk
daily painting# 75: Hells Waiting Room
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