Purgatory

"David," St, Michael asked, "Do you know where you are?" Yes. He knew. He remembered.

"He remains silent," Belial remarked.

"What benefit would speaking give him?" St. Michael asked.

"The guilty use silence as a shield," Belial said.

"Then why do you never cease talking?" St. Michael chuckled. David Mott heard their words, but did not look up. He could have accused them of using him to settle an argument older than humanity. "Perhaps his silence is an aknowledgement of guilt. He's a smart boy."

"He doesn't even know why he killed so many," Belial said. "Poor creature. Guilty of terrible crimes with no motive or benefit and now, he condemns himself. Well, so be it."

St. Michael sat on the dark, smooth rocks. Belial's eyes darted. "I want to hear him say it," Belial snapped. "If he won't, I will go back to his beginning and watch and feel and understand. Why? The world didn't need you, David. Why?"

He did not answer.

"It will be so," Belial said. "No, your protest is invalid. This man is to usurp Hell from me, I am within my rights to examine his credentials."

"It's not necessary," St. Michael said.

"Necessary?" Belial exclaimed. "None of this human carnival is necessary. It's all one grandiose production to prove that perfection is beyond us. Even you."

"You won't find any pity for him," St. Michael said.

"I don't intend to," Belial said. "I only want the knowledge that I am being replaced adequately. Why I even bother..."

Issue Two: Part 9 | Issues Two: Part 11