Codename: Hellfire
A man the size of a refrigerator sits down in a confessional booth, the bench creaks under his weight. His shoulders are broad and tense, his wingspan comparable to that of an Albatross, a stark contrast to the frail priest that sits on the other side of the thin barrier separating them.
Sinner:
“I have a mission father, just like you, I am faithful that what I believe, is what’s right. Today, I will put into action what must be done.”
He leans forward.
“According to your archaic ways father, I have sinned for putting the pieces into motion, for realizing my dream.”
Father Jacobs:
He sits upright from his slouch, becoming more alert and attentive due to the stranger’s imposing tone.
“Hmm.”
He remains still for a moment, processing what has been said.
“Mere thoughts can be a sin son, it’s important not to act on certain urges. I’m almost scared to ask what these thoughts of yours are, but it’s good that you’ve come to me before you go any further, together we can break the repetition of comfort we fall into with sin.”
He pauses again, choosing his words carefully.
“Sin can feel like a chain, tethering us to a cycle of complacency, making it easier to reoffend once it becomes the norm. Sin can also be a teacher, we must strive to learn from our mistakes and better ourselves the best we can. It’s never too late to turn towards the light. No sin is above God’s love. So, what is it exactly you wish to confess to tonight?”
Sinner:
He lets out a light chuckle.
“Wise words father, as one would expect from a man of your stature. My sin though? Let me enlighten you; I’ve envisioned a world, free of judgment, of persecution. A world where we love ourselves without hate. There is no discrimination, greed or war. The classes that divide us, have shrunken down to insignificant factors. We are all equal in this utopia of peace and prosperity. Life expectancy would sky rocket, with nothing to hold humanity back from its full potential. I believe I have the tools necessary to create this world, right now.”
Father Jacobs:
He tugs at his collar, loosening its grip just a tad, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly warm and noticeably sweating.
“This, ‘world’, you’re describing, it sounds a lot like heaven. I’m not sure how it could possibly be sinful to want the best for humankind, but paradise on Earth is impossible, for we are all sinners, perhaps our ideas on the matter differ. Do you care to elaborate—what was your name again?”
Sinner:
“You’re right about one thing, father.”
He rises to his feet, his head grating along the ceiling.
“It is impossible to achieve such a grand society, in a world where religion has failed to have been purged from existence. That’s why I will gut its institutions, decimate their literature and burn them all to ash. As we speak my devotees to the cause have sealed this very cathedral, locking the old world inside.”
Father Jacobs:
He quickly stands to leave, coughing from the smoke that has begun to pour through the booth.
“Wha—you—you can’t, I’m c—calling the police!”
In his haste, he stumbles onto his knees as he swings open the door and steps outside, turning back to watch his fate unfold.
Hellfire:
He approaches with a slow and methodical stride, his arms extended horizontally with each palm facing upwards. His body is engulfed in raging flames of deep red, like a leaking wound. The suit he was wearing has been completely burnt off, his flesh is visibly unharmed by the searing flames. The fire that originated in the crisp confessional, now wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
Father Jacobs:
He gestures over his forehead and his chest, forming a cross, closing his eyes as he does so.
“May God have mercy on your—AHHHHHHHHHHRGH”
Hellfire:
He blasts Father Jacobs with heat that could rival the Earth’s core, melting him into the floor where he laid.
“There are no gods father, there never were. I weep for your misguided soul. It’s not your fault that you’ve been brainwashed, sheep will follow their Shepard off a cliff, you are no different.”
He kneels down, continuing to speak to the now charred corpse. His tears whistle and sizzle away before they can fully form.
“To be born anew, we must start with a clean slate. There is no room for those that would help spread a false gospel—“
He looks towards the double doors ahead.
“Or their followers.”
He walks to the main hall, throwing open the doors to a mad cacophony of men, women and children screaming and pleading, where a cloud of smoke has already reached, the inferno following closely. Most are clamoring at the exit, praying to their God, their nails scraping against the thick wood. Others throw their belongings through the stained glass windows they once admired, smashing them to pieces as they pile on top of each other to try and reach their freedom. A few young ones hide under the benches, wailing to parents that have left them to die. The fire swallows the congregation and their efforts as it rapidly sweeps along the sides of the room. Slowly the building quiets to the soft hum of immolation. He shifts through the flames effortlessly, becoming an invisible force that moves through the embers at will before reappearing in the main aisle.
“Rejoice! No longer will your lives be wasted on the trivial worship of dead gods and the personification of man’s ego. You will no longer be burdened by the crushing submission of blind obedience.”
He walks down the aisle before sitting amongst the few survivors still left as they burn alive and gasp for air, he tucks his legs under himself, his voice cracks as he speaks.
“I wish there was another way, I truly do. Know you die for the betterment of human evolution. Let it comfort you, that the only Hell, is Hell on Earth and your suffering will be short-lived.”
He chokes on his next words
“There really is—no other way. I’m s—so sorry.”
He watches as their skin blackens and the blood evaporates from their bodies. He waits with them, until the very last life is extinguished, standing back to his feet once it’s done.
“Now,”
He says softly, absorbing the flames around him back into his naked body.
“To the pope.”