Chapter Text
No one expects a life after death. When a soul has left the body and is decided by the powers above, there is this general concept that is brought to Hell is about eternal damnation through fire and brimstone or Heaven is about the infinite praises of God. Most people don’t expect to do something as mundane as handling office work behind a desk and within the confines of a cubical. While the advertisements constantly reinforced this idea about the holy paradise the more noble souls have earned, it was just like the lives they once had before, with fewer assholes and monsters to deal with.
A young man sat behind his desk as he flipped open a packed folder full of papers. Every page was but a single chapter in a person’s life and it was his job to methodically inspect their greatest deeds and their monstrous acts when they used to walk upon the earth. He swiveled around in his chair to turn on his computer as his mind pondered about what story he would read to fulfill his soul quota. Then the employee for the Department of Purgatory returned to his papers to read.
His eyes fell upon the bio of Adam Polonski, a man who had died in a car crash. The stranger grew up with an abusive father before he joined organized crime in his youth. When he got married, he took the effort to reform himself back into society by whistleblowing his peers and his boss to the authorities. Did a decent job as a family man by trying to keep his sons from following in his footsteps. The reader was brought back to square one when he learned that he was leaving from his son’s birthday party before the mafia caught up with him and deliberately made it like an accident.
The verdict was clear that he earned his paradise despite the early signs. Soon the tired office worker turned towards his computer and typed up his review that highlighted the man’s life in a few short sentences. Then he grabbed the mouse to hover over the confirmation of his welcome into Heaven. Once the system gave him the clearance, he finished his work for the day and returned the information to the manila folder, only to file them away in a cabinet.
When the hireling cleared his workspace, the watch on his left wrist had started to beep and remind him that it was break time. Rising from his chair, he stretched an exhausted body before making his way towards the breakroom. As he walked past his coworkers, the young man stole glances from the saved souls who worked tirelessly under the Department of Purgatory. It was another day on the job for them; however, he still had to get used to this life.
Upon entering the room, five tables were scattered across the white tiles with a set of four plastic chairs. The department was fortunate that upper management could afford a room like this for every floor. Much better was the quality of the food.
He walked over to the refrigerator as he saw a coworker sitting in a chair, adjusting his black tie over his white shirt. The young man reached for a case filled with two sandwiches and a bottle of department-issued alcohol before looking over at the brown-haired man who was watching the television at the corner of the ceiling. The first thing on his mind was to break the silence between himself and another dead man of a similar past. Perhaps the difference between them is that one of them retained their accent from their homeland. “You finished early, I see. Tell me, Tony, how do you manage that?”
“Just the typical convincing others to do my work for me. Something I learned in Vegas,” He answered, “We got fifty people on a single floor. I think they can afford one more soul to review for a favor.”
“You must be proud of your handiwork. Though, I wonder if our boss will react when he takes a look at your laziness.”
Tony chuckled before he looked over his head. “I’m just being creative. Besides, I’m giving him an excuse to send me elsewhere. Being part of the Souls Accounting Department is a hell of itself.”
“It’s not that bad. You just don’t have the mind for this kind of work,” He countered as he took his seat beside him and looked at the television, “So what are you watching?’
“More like what I can I watch? Most of the channels are usually the same. Even Hell’s sex shows have been kinda tame.”
The man revealed the remote in his hand, flipping through the channels in the hopes of discovering a show or a movie that was worthy of watching. Frustrated with the lack of content for the man’s tastes, he dropped the remote on the table in defeat. Then an advertisement began to play, where a demon girl was talking about her hotel that could redeem the souls of sinners. “Is this some kind of elaborate scam where she preys on the poor bastards who get sent there?”
“This? She genuinely believes that her hotel can redeem those souls sent to Hell. That’s what I heard from the department’s PIs deployed Hellside,” His coworker replied as he leaned back in his chair, “I pity her. The poor girl gets all the scrutiny from demons and sinners alike for trying to be a good person.”
“A good demon in Hell? Honestly, I don’t know what to think about that.”
Hours of working in the cubical had made him hungry and just as he opened his food case, a loudspeaker rang out from behind his back before a welcoming voice spoke up. “Artyom Alekseyevich Chyornyj, I need you in my office. Also, yogurt night will have ice cream for those working the midnight shift. That is all.”
“Well, I suppose my food has to wait,” The Russian stated as he closed his food case and walked back to the refrigerator, “I’ll see you later, Tony.”
Waiting in the elevator was an unsettling affair. Rarely do people get called into the office of management and seldom does it bring good news. So many floors for a single department that processed souls to their destination, but the bureaucracy was necessary to handle them daily. As the doors opened, the Russian was met with an entire hallway full of secretaries handling the administration of the organization he was part of.
There was no need to hesitate and so he stepped forward and made his way to the dark office on the other side. Artyom received glances from the secretaries upon passing by, but it was clear that they have seen too many to come and go to care what happens to him. When he was at the door, the young man took the time to adjust his necktie before knocking on the door. “Sir, you called for me.”
“Come in,” Replied the entity whose voice was so hoarse as if his lungs were torn by some rough paper as he gave a moment to wheeze, “We have much to talk about.”
After he opened the door and entered, darkness encompassed the room and there were few sources of light to see who resided inside. Fortunately for him, his way of life in the past had allowed a moment to adjust his eyes, only to see a figure sitting behind a desk on the opposite end. Still, it was no way to conduct these affairs as he reached for the switches to the right.
“Hey don’t touch-”
The employee’s hands were faster than he could speak. He apparently was opening the blinds to let the sunlight inside the room; however, it revealed a living skeleton in a black suit and tie which was covered by a cloak.
“...the blinds.”
“I wasn’t supposed to do that, right?” He asked the boss, whose skeletal face had shifted to express his disappointment, “Sir?”
The reaper was half his size but he was holding onto a large scythe that rested against his desk. “I was hoping I would maintain this facade where I would scare the shit out of anyone who would walk through that door.”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s fine,” Despite his head being nothing more than a skull, somehow Artyom could feel a smile, “I should have known better than to call upon the man who was christened as the ‘Dark Railtracer’ among his people.”
Soon the Russian walked up to the desk and found the plaque ‘Death’ written at the front. “What did you need to see me for?”
Death stood atop his chair and jumped onto his desk, matching the Russian’s height thanks to his size. “You are not in trouble, but I was considering offering you a transfer. Your file had reached my desk, reading on the history of your life and your career as a Polis Ranger, it seems that your skillsets would be useful outside of the cubical.”
It was strange to hear high praise from the reaper himself but he appreciated the positive goodwill from his end. Yet, the mention of his past drew a sting in his heart, recalling pieces of a time when he was alive. What could Death offer that would be reminding him of the buried emotions?
“What would you think about being a Purgatory Investigator?”
“I don’t know,” Artyom had not been in the department long enough to know about the descriptions of these careers, “This is still new to me.”
He nodded his head, recognizing his lack of experience before turning his back and returning to the large chair. “Very few humans-Pardon me. I mean to say Saved souls have the privilege to move between the afterlife where others cannot. It would be like how you stalkers and Rangers would be able to go between the safe and the radioactive danger zones.”
Somehow a piece of his mind made him pause upon hearing the reference to the past, remembering how he died. A young man and his father-in-law were trekking through the city of Novosibirsk while the radiation slowly stole their lives. All of this in the name of saving the one they loved dearly, whose lungs were collapsing upon themselves. Both men were eager to face the monsters just for a dying girl but it had to be worth it… and it was. Once the medicine was found, Artyom and his father-in-law would die bringing it back. Neither of them would say their farewells to her and he would leave a widow behind.
“Artyom?”
His thoughts returned back to Death’s office as if he forgot that he was there. “Sorry. I blanked out.”
“As I was about to say,” The halfling of a skeleton put his hands behind his back, “Do you want to be an investigator?”
“No,” He answered with a firm tone in his voice. The trauma he experienced when he lived was enough and he didn’t endure the horrors of the apocalypse just to deal with another group of monsters that dwelled in another hellscape, “That life… I’m not that man anymore.”
Death gave himself a slight pause. “I understand. Dismissed.”
It was a surprise that the reaper realized the motivations that drove him to his decision. There was no need to do this; however, the willingness to be considerate about it was enough to respect being which took him. Artyom snapped his feet together and saluted the skeleton for a moment before locking the door on his way out.