Chadpocalypse - 3:13 Heaven and Hell

Well, here we are, the end of the story. I posted the first chapter of this way back in April of 2017, and two years later, it's finished. There's an epilogue to come right after this which I will post immediately, but thanks for everyone who waited far too long for chapters, and I hope you enjoyed the adventure.
 

--Mac

Need to catch up? Check out the collection here:https://www.abctales.com/collection/chadpocalypse

Previous Chapter

3:13 Heaven and Hell

A lot of things happened at once, and Chad watched as the room moved in slow motion. Beside him, The Devil cursed and stamped his feet. The display was a tantrum by any stretch of the imagination, but not nearly as bad as Chad imagined it would be. Death growled with a resonance that shook the room and stood with the sound of a thunder crack. The wood of the judge’s chair splintered in all directions.

            In seconds, Death had his scythe out, blazing white with flame and was crossing the room to Chad.

Chad blinked, shocked by how fast the celebration had turned into an attack. He wasn’t prepared.

“You have been nothing but a pain in my—“ The word was cut off as Joe shot into action.

            From his right hand he produced a flaming sword, dazzling with heavenly light. “I was hoping I would get the chance to do this.” Joe’s blade struck Death’s scythe, creating a shockwave of light and energy at the point of impact.

            Death flew backward, crashing into the wall hard, but regained his footing almost immediately. “I’ve killed you once, and I’ll do it again, priest.”

            “Child, I wouldn’t if I were you.” The Devil sighed.

            Death paid him no heed and charged forward, swinging his scythe in brutal arcs. With each attack, Joe parried and returned with a strike of his own. The first swipe cut away at Death’s dark robe, revealing the pale bone beneath.

            “You should heed the Prince of Darkness,” hissed Joe through gritted teeth. “For once, he might actually know what he’s talking about.”

            “Thousands of years in planning!” Death screamed, swinging his scythe at Joe’s head.

            Joe blocked the attack and brought his sword up, slicing through bone and severing Death’s right arm.

            “Three of my best lieutenants!” screamed Death, grabbing the scythe with his left arm and spinning it with alarming speed.

            “That was your best?” Joe thrust his sword to the center of the spinning blade, somehow managing to find the scythe’s hilt. The weapon exploded on contact, sending pieces of hot metal spitting in all directions. Miraculously, they all collided harmlessly with various objects around the room. One stuck in the top of The Devil’s desk.

            The Devil, who had been standing on the sidelines suddenly grew in size, filling the room. “That’s enough!” His voice boomed.

            The fire in Death’s eyes burned brightly. “But—” he started. The Devil reached out and picked Death up in his fist. “You forget that you work because I let you do so. There’s a perfectly fine corporation doing the dirty job that used to be yours alone. I think some time in isolation ought to teach you that.” Before Death had a chance to offer a reply, The Devil squeezed.

            A myriad of pops and cracks filled the room as Death’s bones broke and shattered. Fine sand fell through the bottom of The Devil’s fist, collecting in a pile of white dust on the floor. “You try to do your best with minions, but every once in a while.” He sighed heavily, returning to normal size as he spoke. “Well, you do the best you can.” He crossed the room to his desk.

            Joe sheathed his sword, extinguishing the flame.

            Both Chad and James stood in shock, their mouths hanging open. They made brief eye contact with one another as if to ask: Did that really happen?

            “I trust you’re going to honor your agreement.” Jordan stepped toward The Devil’s desk.

            “Not a step closer, divine filth. I always do.” The Devil looked at his palm which began to glow red.

            “What are you doing?” asked Joe, his hand dropping to his sword.

            “Down boy. You’ve done enough fighting for one day, and so have I.” The Devil squinted, concentrating on something. “I’m double checking the agreement Chad and I shook on, you know looking for loopholes and the like.” The Devil opened his eyes and locked with Chad. “It seems that with your unintentional parsimony, this deal is close to ironclad.” He stood and walked over to Chad.

            “So, as we agreed?”

            “Yes, I will postpone my apocalypse and you and your friend will be returned to Earth.”

            A smile cracked on Chad’s face. “We did it.” The disbelief was clear.

            “Yes, score one for the plucky heroes,” replied The Devil, clearly hating every word. “But, and of course there’s a ‘but’.” He flicked his tongue across his lips. “This,” he pointed to Joe, “this little sacrifice as some might call it. I, I just can’t abide it.” The Devil’s voice was rising with excitement. “So, I think we’ll just put things back to the way they were.”

            “What are you talking about? Speak plain.” Anger rose in Jordan’s voice.

            “Simply put, enjoy the bottle, Joe.” Satan winked at him. “And you,” he turned to Chad. “See you in forty years.” The Devil reached out his hand and clasped Chad’s before another word could be said. The world split into a series of thin lines as if it had been mashed through a cheese greater.

            Sensations and feeling flashed through Chad in a fierce but confusing wave. He could feel the cold wash of Death’s fingers on his forehead. There was the immense pain of his arm breaking, and the emotional torture of hell. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the cherub’s laughter. “Oh, Hell yeah, it’s happening, baby!” it yelled and then faded into nothingness.

            The roar of a jet engine cut through the void around Chad as if it had passed inches from him, but just as quickly disappeared. A technicolor pope did backflips and burst into flames. Colors and sounds crashed together like they were at war, splashing their sensory overload everywhere. Everything about his existence hurt. The pain reached a fever pitch, and for what felt like the millionth time that week, Chad blacked out.

On to the epilogue