Sun City

Customs in Heaven
The check-in lounge for Sun City was a large, spacious marble hall; a continuous soft red seat ran around three of the four walls, broken in one corner of the room by the opening of a large hallway. Every seat was taken, but no-one had to stand. There was exactly the right number of seats for the amount of people here. Lining the fourth wall were a series of large, gothic-looking arches. Wires connected each of the arches to two screens either side of each arch. Standing behind each of the screens were female attendants. All were young looking, with beautiful eyes, teeth, and hair, and all were dressed in the same, smart uniform. It was light blue, similar to that of an air hostess, with a small pair of white wings on a yellow sphere sown onto the left breast. Above each of the archways was a number, engraved into the marble. In the centre of the cavernous room was a podium, within which stood an aging man. Every few minutes he would call out six names, each with a number; the people he had called upon would go to the relevantly numbered door, and pass through into the corridors beyond. He seemed quite content with himself, a sly smile always playing over his lips. He read out the names and numbers with a slight hint of malice; though to one who was not paying great deals of attention, it was not noticeable.
Jac Diems walked casually into the large check-in. His calm outward look betrayed his mood completely, but he had long ago learnt to hide his true feelings. He was dressed in a dark shirt, somewhere between blue and black, and a dark pair of trousers. His hair was ruffled, and slightly matted, and his face slightly drawn. He had dark brown eyes, which gave no clues as to his experiences, or feelings.
Diems looked around him, running a hand through his black hair. There didn’t seem to be anywhere to sit; this didn’t bother him. Now was not really a time for relaxation. His concentration was broken for an instance by an electronic sounding chime. The voice of an aging man boomed out all around from speakers he could not see.
“James Timmins, Door One. Lucy Turnball, Door Two. Bill Crackling, Door Three…” Jac ignored the voice, and began to walk over to where the man he assumed was James Timmins had just been sitting. Just as he was about to sit down however, seemingly from nowhere, a small Asian girl jumped up on the seat, beaming a bright smile at him. Jac forced a pitiful return, stood up again, glanced around him, and once again saw no-where to sit.
Again, the chime sounded, and the old man read out the next set of names.
“Robert Bellun, Door One…” Jac watched lazily as the people stood up and walked through their destined pathways.
“Jac Diems, Door Six.”
Diems looked up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice told him this wasn’t right, but he ignored it, not wanting to seem out of place. He stood up, and walked over to the door on the far right of the opposite wall.
Diems passed through the archway with a confident stride, not stopping to look either of the two attendants in the eyes.

Jac continued up the hallway. After a few minutes, he rounded a corner, and was greeted by a large escalator. As he stood at the bottom, he tried to look up the shaft, but he couldn’t even make out the end. There seemed to be a bright light shining out somewhere further up ahead, broken only by the ever shrinking figures of people who had gone before him. He stepped on, and waited patiently as the metal stairs slowly moved him upwards. Every five metres or so up the tunnel, there was a small porthole-like window on either side, through which small beams of sunlight shone.
Ten minutes later, he had finally reached the top of the escalator. It had brought him up into another hall. It was not as large as the previous one, but it was made completely of glass. He walked slowly over to one of the panels to his left, and looked out. He seemed to be at the top of a tall tower in part of a huge city. He smiled knowingly to himself. Sun City. Aside from a few people milling around on the far side of the room, there didn’t appear to be anyone else in here. A cough from behind him made him start and turn around suddenly. In front of him stood a beautiful woman, who could have been no older than 30. She was dressed in the same uniform as the attendants back in the check-in lounge. She had mahogany brown hair that reached half way down her back, emerald green eyes, and was smiling brightly.
“Can I help you Jac?” Jac did not question how she knew his name.
“Yeah, uh, I’m not too sure on how to get to the citadel. Which way is it?” She smiled again, and pointed towards a row of lifts. There were about ten, all clean and new looking.
“Each of those lifts will take you to a cable car. The cable car will then take you to a district of the city. The names by the lifts are the names of the districts. Do you understand?” Jac glanced at them all again, then nodded.
“Good. Have a nice day, Mr Diems.” She turned and walked over to a confused looking African-American woman. Jac strode over to the lifts, starting from the right, and moving along, reading each name in turn. Belle Point. Woodland Grove. He had been told that the one he seeked would be in a place called ‘The Golden Palace’. He finally found it, the third elevator from the end. As if activated by his thoughts, the doors opened in front of him. Two tall men walked out. There seemed to be an unusual presence surrounding them that set Jac on edge. They had been deep in conversation when walking out of the lift, but upon seeing him, they immediately stopped, watching him with a cautious eye. Jac ignored them, and slipped into the lift. He couldn’t help but notice that everyone seemed to resent him in some way. A few seconds later, an electronic bell sounded, and the lift doors opened out to a stone landing, with iron railings lining two sides. In the middle of the stone was a large cable car. There didn’t seem to be anybody around, so he sat down inside the car, and upon looking over a brief instruction sheet glued to the side, started the mechanism.
It took him a few moments to realise the car had started moving. It seemed to be inching its way along the cable, barely moving at all. Jac twisted around to look out the front of the carriage. It looked easily half a mile to the main city. He squinted, trying to restrict the sunlight from his vision. At the very centre of the city was a high golden spire. ‘That must be it’, he thought to himself.
Judging from the speed at which the car was moving, Jac guessed he would be waiting a good hour in here before he finally arrived. He decided to get some rest whilst he knew that he would not be disturbed. As the lids of his eyes slowly drooped, something shot by. Jac sat bolt upright, trying to pinpoint the creature that had shot past. Nothing.
THUD. This time, he was alarmed. He looked all around him, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a young boy with curvy blonde hair, no older than five clinging to window, smiling happily, and waving. Flapping eagerly behind him were two small feathered wings, and hovering above the cherub’s head was a halo. It had some blue paint splattered on it; a common colour theme all over the boy. Diems shook his head in disbelief; moreso when another, even younger boy, with similar hair, face, and expression clung onto the window to his right. He was sitting on the floor now, edging back and away from them. And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. Some of his breath returned, he knelt up on the seat looking over the bottom rim of the window. There, hovering in mid air were the two boys. A near-middle-aged woman seemed to be scolding them both, but once she noticed him, she floated over towards the car, and exaggeratedly mouthed the word ‘sorry’, followed by a sympathetic smile. She said something to her two sons, and then all three angels dove back down towards the outskirts of the city.
Jack was dazed. He glanced at the airspace around him, and suddenly started noticing them. Far below him, there were dozens of them, soaring, diving, and generally playing in the air. Something about such freedom lightened his mood. Once again, he sat on his seat, leant back, and drifted into a deep, calm sleep.

The Long Knife is Broken
When you shoot a man three times from point blank range, you expect him to die.
The assassin known as ‘The Long Knife’ had entered Alex Moorcroft’s house through an unlocked French window facing out onto a large lawn which ran straight to a cliff edge. Climbing the cliff face had seemed more challenging than any physical activity he had done in many years, and it reminded him of his ever increasing age. Alex Moorcroft was the leader of a small military cult that was trying to seize control of the island of Cuba. The Long Knife had been hired by a tiny Cuban organisation that had caught wind of the upcoming siege. They were closely intertwined with the Cuban authorities, but they had no intention of telling them about the Long Knife. They did not want to anger to the most dangerous man on Earth. A large sum had been organised (stolen directly from the American Mint Office), and he had been given one week to complete his assignment.
It was now the third day of his task, and here he was. Finding the whereabouts of Moorcroft had been difficult, certainly. He was on a limited number of documents, and lived on an island erased from around 95% of all world maps. However, aside from a high perimeter fence that ran around three of the four sides of his home estate, his defences were poor. LK had taken advantage of the undefended cliff side for his entrance.
He had checked that his revolver – a standard model – was fully loaded. He attached the silencer, checked it for balance, and then entered the living room of the large house, gun concealed inside his shirt, but still easily available. As he started towards the door, a tall, muscular, well-built man walked in.
“Who the hell-” He never finished his sentence. Two bullets pierced his chest, and a third one exploded through his left arm. He screamed in pain, and fell to the floor, grasping at his bleeding arm and chest. The Long Knife turned and walked out, ignoring the man’s curses and noises of pain. He left the living room, and began down the lawn. He had a boat waiting in the bay. Getting back to it would be a simple parachute glide.
Back in the living room, Alex had stopped screaming. He knew he was going to die, but he had one last thing that he knew he must do. Ignoring the pain as best he could, he pulled a large katana from a wooden showcase on the wall, grasping it menacingly in his right hand. Stumbling out of the still open window, he ran as fast as he could towards his attacker, the blade far out in front of him.
LK stood up, the parachute firmly attached to his back. He took a step backwards, preparing to jump. A small noise caused him to pause, his hand automatically going for his gun. He swung around, firing a fourth shot from his revolver, which missed the man coming for him by a matter of millimetres. He tried to jump backwards as Moorcroft lunged for him, but it made no difference. With his last bit of energy, Moorcroft had thrown himself at The Long Knife, katana first. It had penetrated straight through his lung, and out through his back. The combined force of Moorcroft’s impact, and the assassin jumping backwards sent the two men spiralling over the edge. Their final moments, so calm, as if they were dancing elegantly through the air, speeding into the sea.

To Hell and Back
Jac Diems was thrown forward from the impact of hitting the water in his dream. He looked around himself in confusion, his hand frantically groping his chest before realising where he was. Trying to calm himself, he sat back, regulating his breathing as best he could. When he felt that he was back to his usual self, he chanced a look out of the cabin’s right-hand window. He was still only about half way there, but now the buildings below him were starting to reach up close to him. The Golden Palace loomed in front of him, huge, magnificent, and ever so slightly menacing. Sitting himself in a slightly different position to relieve aches, he began to wonder back to what happened next.

* * *

Diems awoke on a long white table in an equally bland white room. This was not his room. Had he been captured? No. He had fallen, from the cliff face… with Moorcroft. He had been stabbed! But when he checked his chest, there was nothing there. No scratch. His skin seemed newer than he remembered. He looked up, and nearly fell off the table at the sight that greeted him.
A large mirror covered the wall in front of him. But the person looking back at him… he hadn’t seen him for many, many years. His hair was no longer greying, his eyes were bright, and his teeth were still gleaming white. His body was well toned, and his skin taught. He was dressed in clothes he did not remember.
Jac stood up. There was a door behind him, which he promptly opened and walked through. Jac was now in a long tiled corridor that reminded him of a tube station. Seeing nowhere else to go, he started down the corridor. A few minutes later, he came across a large black panel on one wall, the sort that companies use to advertise with. But, it wasn’t showing an advert. This was a picture of him when he was four years old giving a flower to his sick mother. Half of him was confused, but the rest of him was taken back to that place. How innocent he seemed. He continued along the corridor, past many more black panels, each with images of his life, going through. Pictures of him giving his ice cream to his little brother. Donating his first week’s pocket money to charity. Simple things, good things. As he carried on, the pictures’ genres started to change. He rounded a bend and stopped in his tracks. There on the wall was a gruesome image. It depicted a man whose face was rotting slightly. There was a large bullet wound just above his left eye, and below it on the skin was a large faded red patch. His face was still contorted in a look of extreme pain. Jac knew this man. It was the first human he had killed. He was a television producer that had upset a large group of thuggish criminals by bad-mouthing them on one of his shows. They wanted someone with skill to do the job. He needed the work, and had managed to bluff his way through the arrangements, claiming that he was a master assassin. After convincing them, he had had to kill him, to stay alive himself.
Jac shivered and walked on. As he continued, happy memories became rare. He kept on seeing final glances of people he had killed long ago. The corridor got colder and colder. Every step he took was harder to make, but finally he rounded one last corner, and appeared on an underground station platform. There were about ten other people on the platform, each one of them looking as weary and nervous as he. On the far platform, beyond the two sunken tracks stood another group of individuals. They seemed to almost be set against a background of light, and all of them seemed to be a lot happier than him.
Jac’s musing was interrupted by loud mechanical screeches and hissing coming from a tunnel to his left. Seconds later, a beam of light penetrated from around the dark corner, and soon after that, two tube trains rumbled into view. Around him, confused looks were passing over the faces of the others. The trains ground to a halt with a creak that set Jac’s teeth on edge. The doors opened slowly, and Jac stepped on, even if he wasn’t sure why. He found a seat near the door, and sat down on it. As his weight pressed down on the chair, it creaked, and snapped off the wall, dropping him to the floor. Rubbing his back and complaining under his breath, he took a new seat next to a short, pale-skinned, arrogant-looking teenager. He was smoking, his eyes jumping nervously around, focusing on anything that made a noise or moved. Jac turned away from him in silent disgust. Such a foul habit, he had always thought.
The train doors closed, and there was another loud hiss as the carriages began along the gloomy tunnel. Jac leant back and closed his eyes, opening them occasionally just to check nothing bad was happening.
Hours seemed to pass. It was hard to tell how far they had gone, or how fast they were going in the dark of the tunnel. From time to time Jac would notice certain objects, illuminated for the briefest second by a spark from the undercarriage, but that was rare. He was really starting to drift into sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the car, but as soon as he was close to full relaxation, there would be a violent jolt as the wheels ran over an uneven track join. It was as if someone didn’t want him to rest.
Irritated, he shuffled around in his seat, the movement from his previous ‘set-in’ position causing him to become aware of the aching in his lower back. As tried to get comfortable, he nudged the boy sitting next to him, who gave him a dark warning of a look. Jac decided against following up on it. He had an idea where he was, and if he was right, he didn’t want to cause any more trouble for himself.
Suddenly, the train roared out of the tunnel onto a high hilltop. It was raining hard, and the entire sky seemed to be filled with dark rain clouds. You could barely make out the surrounding hills or the valleys below for all the mist and rain. The train seemed to be going faster now, intent on reaching its destination as quickly as it could. Around him, the other passengers were gazing out into the dreary landscape, though none of them seemed to show much interest. One man was hunched over, his head in his hands. An elderly woman with thin drawn lips glared bitterly at him with her shallow eyes.
They were crossing a large viaduct now. The train rattled angrily as the wheels audibly pointed out every small break in the track. Finally they reached the other side, and the noises subdued. The rain, however, did not. As if in a final wave of attack, the windows were pounded by a siege of water. Above Jac’s head was a crack in the rubber seal holding the carriage window in place, through which the wind was whistling, and raindrops were now falling. The first couple Jac ignored, hoping the rain would die down. But the more he tried to ignore it, the more persistent the rain became, seeping through his hair down to his scalp. He stood up, grabbed his bag, and turned to walk to another seat when the train screeched to a halt. Jac stumbled, lost his footing, grabbed wildly at the air, and fell flat on his back. He lay there, groaning slightly, trying to ignore everyone else’s staring eyes.
Someone muttered, ‘why’s the train stopped?’ Another shrugged. People began whispering to each other, offering obvious theories. The entire car was silenced by the ominous footsteps from the next carriage along, and the sound of a door creaking open, then being slammed shut. A dark figure appeared at the frosted glass window of the door at the end of the carriage. Everyone’s attention was focused on it, even the arrogant looking teenager. Jac lifted himself up from the floor as best he could.
An old man, with withered, twisted skin, and fading grey hair entered the car. He had an evil sneer across his lips, and he radiated a sense of arrogance and power. Noticing everyone looking at him expectantly, the old man called out,
“Tickets, please.”
As one, the passengers dove into their pockets, and each held up a red strip of paper. The ticket collector began along the car, snatching the awaiting tickets, punching a single hole through them with a small black hold punch, and then returning them to their owner. A wave of fear ran over Jac. He had no ticket. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hurriedly trying to find a similar strip, but to no avail. The collector had reached his half of the train car, and was looking him over with obvious disgust, of which he made no attempt to hide.
“Ticket, boy?”
“I wasn’t given a ticket.” It was a bad defence, he knew, but it was true, and he didn’t want to have to lie. The ticket master glared at him.
“You don’t get anything for free, boy. Do you expect free travel? All this costs money to maintain, you know. Do you think you are an exception, boy?”
Jac glared back at him, but kept his cool.
“No, I do not.”
The old man smiled a smile of malice and obvious dislike.
“Good.’ He took a step back, and slipped a card into a slot to the right of the door. ‘Come and stand here.” Jac obeyed, though hating being treated like an insolent child. The door opened, leaving him undefended from the cold, biting wind, and the heavy rain. The old man smiled again.
“Horrible weather, isn’t it? I shouldn’t like to be you right now.” Suddenly realizing what was happened, Jac tried to step to one side, but it was too late. He felt a strong hand ram straight into his back, right between his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling out of the carriage and into the deep wet mud by the side of railway line. He heard the doors close behind him, and then to his horror, he heard the now familiar hisses and screeches of the train. He turned around to see the train slowly lumbering away along the track. He swore, loudly and excessively as the train began the speed out of view through the dark, clinging mist.
“Is it really necessary to swear so much?’ came a sly, treacle-like voice. Jac stopped and turned around to see a tall, swathe looking man in a black pinstripe suite. He was standing underneath a large black umbrella, and he appeared to be beckoning to him. Jac stepped across the first track, peering through the sheet rain at the man in front of him.’
“I’ve been thrown off a train into the mud, forced to view a large variety of unpleasant things, and yesterday I’m pretty sure that I died.” The other man laughed, and took a step forward.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, but I was never told you had a sense of humour.” Jac shook his head to try and get rid of some of the water, but with no success.
“Who are you, anyhow?”
“Oh, come now, surely you can guess?”
“The Late Josef Stalin, come back to deal out revenge on those who wronged him?” Jac answered bitterly.
The stranger laughed. “No, but I may as well be for all the suffering I have caused.” He laughed again. Despite all better judgement, he continued towards the other man.
“El Diablo? The Fallen Angel? Ringin’ any bells? It clicked in Jac’s head, as the man’s face came into view, his forked tongue playing over the words with obvious glee.
“I’m Satan. The Devil… call me Lucifer.” He held out his hand, though Jac didn’t notice it at first. He was too busy gazing at the being in front of him. He had slick back, gelled hair, fronted by two small red horns, poking out of the left and right of his temples. His eyes glowed a dark, coursing red and his front teeth seemed to have been sharpened to points. The Devil coughed. Jac saw his out-stretched hand, and cautiously moved his out to greet it. Lucifer grabbed it, and shook it vigorously. Jac took his hand back, and fixed his companion with a questioning look.
“What do you want from me?”

The Golden Palace
All around, large golden towers stood tall and proud. Jac really did feel out of place, as if they all were watching him, judging him. It was unnerving, the large faceless giants passing by without a word. Jac looked out the front of the car. Ahead, he could see a large hole in the side of what appeared to be the central tower. It was quite dark inside, but the cables went inside, so it was obvious that that was where he was headed. Once again, Jac began to feel nervous. His eyes scanned the dark space all around him, looking for something, though what, he was not sure of. Once he thought he saw something, a figure in the darkness watching him, but it seemed to disappear.
A sudden halt of the carriage made it sway back and forth, causing its passenger to stumble backwards, landing awkwardly on the cushioned seat. Jac looked around, and was dazzled by a bright light that now shone down all around him. Some mechanical noises caught his attention, but only briefly, for within a moment, he found himself and the car rising up into a small blue room. Here it halted, and the doors opened with a small hiss. From speakers concealed in the carriage, a pleasant female voice spoke;
“Welcome to the Golden Palace. Please proceed to your assigned quarters, which are written on your ticket. Have a nice day.”
Jac fumbled in his coat pocket, and soon found the small piece of stiff paper given to him earlier. Squinting at it, he could read the dark blue letters laid out on the light pink ticket.
Room 206, 122nd Floor
‘Where I am now?’ he thought to himself. Walking through an archway in the cable car room, he found himself emerging into yet another cavernous glass hall. Sunlight shone in from his left through the vast glass wall. There was a large elegant fountain in the middle of the room, spurting large jets of water high into the air. The sunlight caught the spray, and rainbows appeared, swimming elegantly through the air around the large towers of water. Jac stood in awe, staring at it with wonderment.
In front of the fountain sat a young secretary. She was buried in her work, and Jac felt sort of sorry for her; but he soon banished those feelings. He had a job to do. Striding confidently across the hall, he coughed to announce his arrival. The young girl looked up. She had dazzling eyes. But Jac had come to expect such beauty, so it didn’t faze him.
“Hi. I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction for,’ he paused to look at his ticket’ the 122nd floor, please.” She smiled softly.
“Well, this is the 59th floor. The staircases are over there,’ she pointed to his right. Sure enough, in the far wall, there were six stair-cases. Two went down, three went up. The sixth went up, then down out of view. She turned back to him.
‘I’ve only ever used the downward ones, so I'm not sure which will take you where – I’m sorry. Have a nice day sir.”
Jac was slightly distracted by where to go next, so he murmured a thanks, and walked off. As he began up the first upward staircase, the secretary reached for a drawer, lined with a special blue strip. She opened it, and retrieved a mobile phone from inside. There were only two buttons on it, and as she held it in her hand, it sprang to life. The secretary pressed one button, and held the device to her ear.
“Sir? I think we have a misfit. Yes. You’ll recognise him when you see him. Tell your boss to keep a watch out. Ok. Goodbye.” She pressed the second button, and put it back in the drawer.
A while later, and forty-three floors up, Jac was still climbing the spotless marble stairs. He had no idea how far up he was, but he hoped he was near his goal. As he reached the top of another flight, he was met by three separate stair cases, all going in completely different directions. He swore to himself. There were no signs to be seen anywhere. Jac ran a hand through his ruffled hair, and breathed in deeply, and sat down at the top of the stairs, contemplating his position. He had no idea how much further he had to go, and the clock was always ticking. He could risk taking a staircase, and finding his apartment. But, if he ended up in the wrong place, it would waste valuable time. He needed to rest before he completed his task. Of course, he could go all the way back down, and try to find more help. Jac stepped down a few stairs, and peered over the railings. It was such a long way down...
‘Screw it’ Jac thought, and began jogging up the flight of stairs to his left. His small bag rattled around on his back. He had been lucky. The stairs had taken him to the exact floor he needed. After that, it had only been a quick walk to find his quarters, right at the far end of the corridor. The number 206 was carved lovingly into the door at eye-level, and the room was unlocked.
Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle, and stepped inside. The room was beautiful. A spacious apartment type structure, with half-walls separating off a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and the door to a balcony. The main lounge has a small trickling stream running around the edge of the flooring, and out of sight under it, giving you the feeling of floating on water. It was amazing. Flora decorated some walls, whilst stylish lamps and ornaments decorated others. There was a large leather coach, a widescreen television, a pool table, and a drinks cabinet in there too. Jac was amazed, but not for long. He was still weary from his long climb, and soon retreated to the bedroom. He dropped his bag by the bed, kicked off his shoes, and flopped onto the large comfortable mattress.

* * *

A Deal With the Devil
The rain was beating down hard as Jac took the umbrella Lucifer handed him, opened it above him.
“Jac, Jac… the infamous Jac Diems. Known by few, but feared by many. Known those who did know you as ‘The Long Knife’. A predictable codename, but it does save spending ages thinking of something original and good, doesn’t it? I guess, being one of the first creatures in existent, I was a bit lucky… ‘The Devil’ – how cool is that, huh?” He laughed, but Jac said nothing. His laugh was like a humour neutraliser, as if he was mocking himself without being aware of it.
“So, I’ve heard you’re quite the assassin. The best of the best.’ His tongue played over each word. ‘You can kill anyone. No man is too mighty to fall prey to your expertise.”
“That’s what people say. I still died though, didn’t I?”
“Ah, yes… I’m somewhat to blame for that one. You see, when you shot Moorcroft, I was there. I put the burning malice and hatred into him, giving him enough energy to go after you. Which I must say, he did pretty damn well. No offence meant of course.’ He laughed once again. ‘No, but I had my reasons. I need someone to do a little job for me, and you seem best suited for it. After all, who better to assassinate than an assassin?”
“What is it you’re wanting me to do here?” A feeling of unease was quickly spreading over Jac.
“Hmm… well, brace yourself.’ He licked his lips. ‘I want you to assassinate God.” Jac laughed nervously.
“You’re kidding right?”
“No, I’m very much serious.” Jac looked him straight in the eyes. He told no lie. The assassin began to stutter.
“How? Why? Where? Why me?”
“You must get some of my blood,’ he held up a tiny capsule filled with writhing black liquid that seemed very much to be alive ‘inside of him. Shoot him, stab him, fly a missile into him for all I care. I was the first angel to break free and obtain free will, and so I am his antibody. I am the first and only thing to ever break God’s law. I want this done because I’m the Devil. I'm always thought it was pretty obvious how much I hated God… have I not put that across up there?’ he motioned upwards. ‘Come on Mr Diems, I thought you were quicker than that.”
“Where am I supposed to find God, and more importantly, why do I have to do it?”
“You will find him in Sun City.’ Jac began to open his mouth but Lucifer cut him off. ‘Think of it as the Citadel of Heaven. Only the best of the best get to live in Sun City. There are four or five other regions I believe for people who weren’t quite as immaculate… but that’s beside the point.” He cleared his throat.
“Neither me, or any of my minions can do this task for a few simple reasons. Firstly, my minions are merely beasts, and assassination for them is how trying to build a time machine starting with no materials is for you – it may as well be impossible. Secondly, even if they could, they would be noticed straight away. I would have the same problem – plus, I can’t leave Hell. Things would get screwy, know what I mean?”
“I won’t do it.” Jac’s voice was very tense. He was not in the mood to be played around. He was going to be punished anyway, that much he was sure of. For the first time in the entire conversation, Lucifer looked displeased. He sighed obviously, and pulled out a lengthy scroll from nowhere.
“For you mortal sins, you are sentenced to never-ending torture,’ he paused briefly, then looked directly at Jac. ‘Let me show you what that’s like.”
Suddenly before there eyes appeared a young man. His eyes were closed, and his legs and feet were bound in a cross shape. For a moment nothing happened, and then suddenly he cried out as a long gash appeared on his chest. Suddenly more and more appeared. His body was turning red, and his chest began to peel open, leaking his innards out. He was still screaming, before lulling his head forward in death. Then, before Jac and Lucifer’s eyes, his body began to heal itself. Suddenly he was awake. He looked deep into Jac’s soul, and began to beg for mercy. Once again the cuts began to appear. Jac looked at Lucifer in horror, who seemed to show no emotion either way.
“That’s just thirty seconds, Jac. For you, it would never end, and your body would never adjust. But, if you do this for me, then you will be free to live in any realm you wish. I promise.” Jac looked at Lucifer. He was still serious. He let out a long sigh.
“Alright.’ He held out his hand. Lucifer took it, and shook vigorously. ‘Now tell me, where do I go?”

* * *

Scope
The wind blew viciously up here. It whipped at Jac’s skin, as if scolding him for something he had yet to do. Standing up here upon Eternity’s Peak, one of the Golden Palace’s numerous spires, he had a good view of the citadel. Far below him, tiny streets wove in between large buildings, somehow all bathed in sunlight. Even smaller still were the people on the streets, all going about their everyday lives. How insignificant they all seemed, in the grand design of things. But this was not important, and Jac was determined to not get distracted. His soul depended on it.
Amongst all the other roads alleys were more prominent causeways. Hundreds of people passed along these numerous veins. You could just about make out the general murmur of life. One causeway quite close by was particularly noisy. Even from so high up, Jac could make out a single figure walking through the crowd, which was parting before him. Hovering below him, and above them, the angels stopped to look down upon him. They all knew exactly who he was, and so did Jac. He was God. A wave of excruciating guilt passed over Jac. He couldn’t go through with this. Surely not. An inane scream filled his ears, and he was taken back to the tortured soul. The pure horror of it all made him undo his bag, and begin to assemble the jet black sniper rifle inside.
Down in the streets, God waved to the people around him. This was no rare event – wherever he went he was met with thankful people and waving crowds. It was nice to know he was liked. The bullet caught him off guard, slicing through his chest and exploding out of his back. The normal thing to do was to clutch his chest, and fall down, and so that’s what he did. All around him, people were reacting. Some merely stood and screamed, some ran for cover, whilst others tried to push past and help. It was no good though. The bullet had ripped through the vena cava of his heart. All around him, things began to fade. Upon Eternity’s Peak, Jac was already taking apart his rifle, still stood on the perilous plinth of the tower.
“Why did you do that?” A quiet voice caught him off guard. He spun around, and swore in confusion.
“You?!” Jac stepped back, before he remembered there was nowhere to step back to. God grabbed his hand, leaving him hanging over the edge of the building. Jac had his eyes screwed up, and was breathing heavily. It took him about ten seconds to realise he wasn’t falling. He looked back over his shoulder.
“I shot you! With Lucifer’s blood! You should be dead! Or something should have happened to you at least…”
“It appears that the Lord of Hell is very much mistaken.” One of the remaining rounds for the rifle floated up out of Jac’s bag, and God took it in his free hand and examined it. Shaking his head, he muttered something to himself, and pocketed the bullet.
“Lucifer did not break my ‘law’ as he told you. If he had done that, everything would have ripped out of existence. I don’t mean to brag, but I did create everything, and I never got anything wrong. No, I knew that if I was going to give human’s free will, I would have to give them an alternative option to good – not everyone wants to follow the crowd, and if I didn’t create another way, no-one else would have been able to. Especially not a human. So, I made Lucifer, the ‘Fallen Angel’ as it were. And it seems he’s let his own power go to his head. But this is beside the point. What am I going to do with you, huh? I mean, trying to assassinate God… that’s gonna be stuck on your permanent record you know. But, you know, I’m in a good mood. All this will give me a few hours to go relax in peace before the hordes return.’ He laughed, whilst Jac was becoming more and more aware of his position, who held him there, and what he had just tried to do to said individual. God looked at him. ‘I’m gonna give you a second chance Jac. I know your life can’t have been easy, and I know what happened to you when you were younger. How you felt you needed to become faceless, unknown. A shadow. You’re childhood couldn’t have been easy, especially with the early death of you parents. He pointed to his left. They live over there, you know. If you make the same mistakes again, you will be punished. So, try and do the right thing. I’ll be watching you.” God let go of Jac’s hand. Jac swung his arms forward, trying to grab onto something but already he was falling, screaming, all the way down. His body cracked the pavement with all the force it was carrying, and he was dead.


* * *

Epilogue
Jac stood at the top of a long set of stairs. He was here to see a bad man, a mobster, about an assassination job. He was going to bluff his way through the whole thing, pretending to be an experienced hitman. He needed this.
Without warning, he fell backwards. His clothes were soaked from the rain on the ground, and instantly he was in a foul mood. Something gripped him, and suddenly those dark stairs seemed off-putting, not inviting. Sniffing, he turned around, and disappeared into the night.