Chapter 1: Another Chance
#1 of Hell
Nick Valaretti's entire world flipped upside down on a cold winter's eve, when he was involved in a drunk driving accident: He was the drunk. A father, who was on his way to see his family, was collided into by the SUV Nick was driving. He had just turned eighteen, and because of what he did, he rotted in jail.
He was released at twenty-three; but the guilt never went away. He found that the world had it's own way of punishing you. A year later, he was D.O.A at a New York hospital with a needle in his arm.
His redemption, and torment, would come in a way he never imagined.... who says you don't get another chance at life?
Chapter 1:
Another Chance
Nick's lungs suddenly expanded and his eyes jerked open in shock. "Shit...," He gasped out as he saw what was the barren remains of a New York City street, but something was very different about it...
From the light of the gray overcast sky, he could see that various windows on the nearby skyscrapers were shattered... almost like... bullet wounds. Images flashed before Nick's eyes, though only fleeting he was able to see a firing squad lined up with their scopes sighted upon the sack-covered head of the condemned...
As the visions faded, he pressed his hand upon his head and noticed that the track-marks that had marred his arm were no longer presence. He gingerly rubbed the bend of his elbow, "Too fucking weird." He grumbled as he started to trudge along the gum and soot covered sidewalk towards the nearest intersection.
Nick glanced up at the intersection's stoplight which had no signs to point him in the direction of civilization. "Of Cour--"A sudden flash of black light darted at the corner of his eye, and for a moment he thought he might not be alone. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed: "HELLO!"
Ghastly shrieks responded back to him, and it made the hairs on his skin stand up. Shadows, Black Shadows, floated up from the ground like ghosts from hell. Again they shrieked into the air, and Nick took off in a dead out sprint.
His heart was throbbing in his chest from both fear and exertion, and he dared to glance over his shoulder. They were still hot on his trail, silently floating over the ground, and a sudden burst of panic gave Nick the speed he needed.
Cutting a corner, he managed to dart into a nearby alley. "Gimme your hand!" He heard shouted from the fire escape above his head. At first he was glad to have contact with another human, until he looked up and saw the creature offering a hand was NOT human. "C'mon!" It yelled from it's canine like mouth.
Nick connected hands with the creature who pulled him up. "No matter what: Don't move! Don't talk! or they'll kill us both!" He growled.
"What are th--" The Canine clamped his brown and black paw over Nicks mouth, silencing him just as the shades floated into the alleyway.
Nick, knowing he would shriek if he saw the Black Shadows hovering below them, kept his eyes on the Canine. His t-shirt was torn and sleeveless, revealing deep etching of well-defined muscles on his forearm, only upon looking closer did he see the jagged scar across the inside of his arm. He noted that imperfection and moved up to his face. His strong muscular jaw gave him an air of command which was only slightly diminished by the kind blue eyes that now held a cool and confident look, but Nick could feel him shivering through his paw.
Nick could feel the creatures' icy aura as they now hovered over the ground beneath them, and though he didn't want to gaze upon the corrupted form of the specters, his curious eyes shifted to the alley below him that now shimmered from a glazing of ice, and there he saw them in a detail.
Their bodies where shrouded in unnaturally black robes, which had the faint white etchings of faces contorted in excruciating agony, and their faces were nothing but incorporeal mists swirling violently underneath their hoods. The shadows shrieked suddenly, and in a wailing chorus of agony, they glided back into the ground. The canine pulled his paw away only when the cold had faded.
"Where am I?" Nick uttered.
The Canine vaulted over the rusty railing of the fire escape into alley, "Isn't it obvious," He said as he looked up to him, "You're in Hell."
"What...?"
"Look around you, sweet heart." He motioned to the buildings outside the alley. "If you haven't notice, you aren't in fucking New York anymore."
"I- I- just remember passing out - I"
"You died. Plain and simple."
"Maybe for you! I was twenty four fucking years old."
He shrugged. "Too damn bad-- It doesn't change anything, now c'mon. We have to get out of here."
"This can't be real."
"It's real enough." His pointed ears flickered slightly in agitation, "Now, C'mon! I'm leaving, you can choose to follow or stay behind and keep playing with those bastards."
Reluctantly, Nick vaulted over the railing. "Well thanks for helping me, I'm Nick." He extended his hand out to the Canine.
"Dex." Their hands met in an awkward handshake. "Welcome to Hell, Nick."
Nick shrugged away his mentioning of hell, and followed him out of the alley into the grimy street. "Well for hell, it's pretty comfortable."
"God damn," He hissed, "Don't talk so loud."
"Sorry," Nick whispered back, "But I'm surprised that this is hell. I kinda imagined more flames and pitchforks--"
"And devils dancing around?" Dex gave a sideways smirk, "No, this place is nothing like that, but when you keep coming back to it... yeah, it starts to piss you off, and don't even get me started on those flying bastards--"
"What do you mean coming back...?"
"Alright," He turned around and crossed his well-cut arms. "Talking attracts them, so unless you want to have them chasing after your ass, I suggest you stay quiet and follow me until we get to a safe place."
"Lead on."