"Your life has become one to watch." the eerie voice fills his mind.
A teen in a muddy football uniform is rushed down a hallway on a stretcher."You have become a prodigy among mere men." the eerie voice says.
Blurry visioned eyes watch, as the emergency room lights become too bright.
"You persevere when others fall to peril."
A football is spiraling through the air and a tactified glove reaches up to steal it. A cornerback, number 21, begins running down the sideline the other direction, the name Tempest above his jersey number. He holds his hand up high, as the interception turns into a touchdown.
"You have overcome what others only dream of." the eerie voice coaches.
A young man in a graduation gown and hat with a wind blown tassle, walks across a stage and accepts his diploma.
"You will be a champion among mortal men. You will enter a room and they shall part to allow you a path. Your very prescence will silence them."
Strobing images of a career in sports entertainment. Blood, sweat and glory, where Tempest raised the World Heavyweight Championship title ten times during his tenure in the ring.
"Your path has allowed you to harness your abilities for your true destiny."
Tempest finds himself in that eerie darkness and can feel the essence of the eerie voice next to him. Although unseen, he knows he is very close. The darkness below him parts and another essence begin to glow throughout existance below him.
"A reaper's work is never done. The essences you seek appear to you. It is up to you to make sure they get where they belong."
"Heaven or hell." Tempest says softly.
"Yes."
"How will I know?" Tempest asks.
The eerie voice's essence laughs softly, however it is thunderous throughout the darkness.
"You shall discover that on your own. Now go."
Tempest steps through the darkness.
Gunther Collins is celebrating. He has his classical music turned up to a not so moderate volume this late evening. Today is a day he prides himself on thirty years in the family law business. He has poured himself a glass of red wine and loosens his tie from his collar. He clumsily acts as if he is ballroom dancing with his glass of wine, as he sips arrogantly from it. He is very clever at his profession. He has manipulated court systems for three decades now.
A celebration, indeed. He sits down in his plush leather chair at his marble topped desk. He thinks rather highly of himself. His peers do not. The judge's hammer concluded a child custody case this day in his favor. A verdict not in the best interest of a young girl. A judicial system already tainted with corruption, Gunther Collins' deceptive methods of intimidation and coercion allowed him a judge practically in his hip pocket, and a young girl is now where she does not belong.
He sips his wine and rubs his oversized belly with hands that have never labored in their lifetime. He sets his glass of wine on the desk and eases back in this expensive chair and taps his foot to his music. He hums along with it, as his eyes grow heavy, his smug sneer still permanent on his face. He has done well this day, or so he believes.
As his body slowly allows him to swim into sleep, his essence begins to glow.
"Psst."
Gunther Collins snaps awake. His sleepy eyes blink wide awake. He could have sworn he heard something. He shrieks as his plush leather chair is violently spun around.
Tempest sneers at Gunther Collins.
"Did good today, didja?" Tempest asks sarcastically.
Gunther Collins cannot believe his eyes. Who is this ballcap wearing, tinted shades sneering bum in his home? Gunther's eyes travel up and down the figure in front of him, the trenchcoat and most disturbing, the scythe blade hooked over the figure's left shoulder.
"Who are you?" Gunther asks. "And what are you doing in MY house!?"
"I'm da last thing yer ever gonna see." Tempest assures Gunther.
"Like HELL!" Gunther roars, yanking open a desk drawer, pulling out a .38 Special and unloads all six rounds into the figure.
Tempest looks down at himself, then back at Gunther.
"Feel bettah now?" Tempest sneers.
All Gunther saw was the flash of the scythe blade. His eyes grow wide, as he realizes he is suddenly cold below his chest. His eyes slowly roll downwards to see what he feared.
"People like you in places where ya can make a difference and ya decide ta deceive yer own oath fer yer own benefit...makes me sick." Tempest says softly.
Tempest sinks his right hand into the open gash in Gunther Collins' chest. He forces his hand upwards and to the right. Gunther's eyes roll with excruciating pain, as he tries to maintain focus on whom he shot six times. Tempest's hand feels the beating heart and caresses it with his leather gloved hand.
"Their lives are in yer hands, like yers is now in mine." Tempest whispers. "And ya toy with their lives, like it is a game. Game over, Gunther."
Gunther gurgles a little blood from his lips, his eyes are crinkled and how he wished he could get this intruder into a courtroom. Oh, how he would pay...
"I thought I would have a problem takin' souls ta hell." Tempest confessed. "In yer case, da verdict is in. No problem at all."
Tempest's hand clutches Gunther Collins' heart. Every corrupt verdict he was responsible for. Every tear he was the source for. Every heart he ripped apart. Every family he destroyed. As Tempest squeezes Gunther's heart in his leather gloved hand, he sees, feels and endures them all simultaneously. Gunther's heart bursts.
Pain.
Gunther Collins awakens and is paralyzed in severe pain. He clutches his chest and leans forward. His glass of wine spills all over his computer keyboard and sprawled paperwork. A solid gold pen spins from the clinkin wine glass and falls to the floor. Gunther drops to his knees, his hands clutching at the pain inside his chest and his thoughts race with what he thinks he just dreamt.
"It was just a dream!" Gunther cries, as the pain is taking him. "JUST A DREAM!"
Gunther collapses to the floor, his eyes full of fear, as he realizes his end is before him. Thirty years in his profession and his last thought alive was asking for a retrial.
His last breath escapes his body and his soul escapes into the air. A leather gloved hand clutches it.
"Only one thing ya need ta know, Gunther." Tempest smiles. "Dreams do come true."
Tempest places Gunther's soul on the floor and it begins to take human form again.
"What are you doing?" Gunther asks, as his transparent essence begins to form as a human again.
"I'm gonna show ya hell." Tempest smiles.
The floor opens behind Gunther and the red glow of the pit of hell illuminates the room. Gunther dares let his eyes look behind him, where a demon rises from the opening and his eyes are full of torturous delight. The demon begins to manifest and take form of the father of the little girl Gunther played a huge role in taking from him.
"Hi, Gunther." the demonic father form smiles. "Why don't you come with me?"
The demonic father form seizes Gunther by his ankles and begins to pull Gunther into hell.
"O! PLEASE GOD, NO!" Gunther screams.
"I ain't God..." Tempest smiles. "And He ain't listenin' ta ya."
The demonic father form grabs Gunther's belt and yanks him deeper into the opening to hell. Gunther's fingernails scraping across the woodgrain floor.
"NOOOOOOO!" Gunther cries, as the demonic father form's claws grab Gunther's mouth and pull him under and the opening to hell closes.
"Case closed." Tempest sneers.
