Last Flash

"Will it hurt, Mr. Oneiroi?"

The old man smiles and extends a hand down towards her. Fingers, cold as ice and creaking with age, stretch out and soothingly caress the woman's forehead. Her fever had flared up again - and this time her body has entered a state of shutdown severe enough that she won’t be able to fight it off. It won’t be long, now.

"Nothing worth it is ever easy, Ms. Persimmons. But, I can assure you; what you are about to experience after you die will hurt far more than any temporary discomfort I'm offering. The difference? My pain will lead to at least a moment of bliss before the shadows come for you, and your real pain begins."

He had said these same words for centuries. Everyone was worried about the pain, but never concerned with the pleasure that followed - ironic, given the lives these people had lead to get them to this point, really. His gift, he had discovered, did not work on those who were pure of heart or, as he had discovered with a particularly good-hearted individual one night in an alley, anyone who died in an act of selflessness - whether they were pure-of-heart or not.

No, no, Oneiroi had been instead tasked with offering his wares to criminals on death row, greedy lawyers and CEOs who had decided not to rule on their own morality and, in this case, a mother who had abandoned her two children for a night of drugs and partying - and an overdose that her body wasn't able to shake. Her kids, two boys barely old enough to talk, much less care for themselves, had been left to their own devices and, while playing around an outlet, had set their home on fire. Even though they managed to escape by the skin of their teeth, the neighbors in the adjoining four houses hadn't been so lucky.

Oneiroi frowned at that and produced a small, crimson notebook from his pocket before nimble fingers began to quickly thumb through the pages. Finally, as he reached her name, he found nothing but her moniker scrawled in elegant calligraphy. The frown grew deeper as frustration set in. Peculiar. Truly peculiar.

For as long as he could remember, negligence wasn’t something he had dealt with. The occasional naughty accomplice, sure. But someone who had been involved so indirectly was never in his book. Obviously, the rules for entry into Hades had been...expanded.

But, who was he to question what the gods had in store for the world of the living?

He shrugged and closed the journal as charcoal eyes re-focused on the woman lost in considerate thought lying beneath him. His offer wasn't a terrible one, really; If you sacrificed any chance of redemption, you received a moment of pure and extreme bliss before you pass. Most of his clients never had the opportunity for redemption anyway, so they weren't actually giving anything they truly owned. But, Hades enjoyed certainty and finality; a firm handshake on the deal, if you will. Oneiroi found solace in that. He never felt like he was doing anything wrong by sealing their fate - they had already done that job themselves.

Finally, she nodded. Consent had been given. Oneiroi, a false smile of sympathy on his face, tucked the small book back into his pocket and soon produced a small, golden pill from the same maw of his coat. He removed his other hand from her brow and fetched the small, plastic cup of water that rested on her lunch tray before he offered both to her. Hades needed no paperwork; consent was the name of the game - and intent sealed the deal. The woman opened her mouth and waited as he placed the pill on her tongue as if it were a wafer in church, a few words were even said, more of a show than a spell, before he also placed a bit of water into her mouth.

Oneiroi watched her swallow and close her eyes before he turned around and began to walk away. He didn’t need to see the dazed, blissful numbness that washed over her. He had seen the same song and dance for centuries with each and every client of his. He heard a long, throaty moan of pleasure right before he closed the door and began to make his way towards the hospital's exit.

Outside, a gust of wind made his old, brown duster tremble and a sent a shiver to his very core. A check to his balance, the wind a shadow brought when it came to claim a soul is there to measure and weigh his left pocket, and ensure that it's one pill short before its master began the job of guiding the body and spirit toward their separation.

Soon, it disappeared and Oneiroi is left to his own devices surrounded by possible future clients and those deemed too worthy for his services. He tucked a hand into his pocket and retrieved another golden, shimmering pill. As he gave it a quick inspection, the drug is raised up and popped into his mouth.

As he smiled, Oneiroi enjoyed for a brief moment the minty, fruit explosion of flavor that filled his mouth before he began the journey towards his next appointment - and the sucker who believed there's pleasure before the pain of hades.