The Department of Hate - A Love Story

by Anthony O'connor

  “A hundred thousand years of tits and ass. Hump, hump, hump - squirt, squirt, squirt - big fucking deal." He paused and sighed. "No. These days it takes a lot more than that to get me excited." Jarrod didn’t want to know what that was and didn’t ask, but he had a feeling Asmodeous was going to show him – sooner or later. Asmodeous seemed to be thinking about something – reminiscing. Jarrod waited patiently - he was still puzzled and curious as to how all of this fitted together, not just this department, the whole thing. It all seemed so monstrously insane. Finally Asmodeous spoke up

  "There was one female I kept much longer than all the rest." Jarrod asked simply

  "Who was that?" Asmodeous had a gleam in his eye

  "Cleopatra." Jarrod was surprised, he asked

  "What, you mean, the Cleopatra." Asmodeous actually smiled – the first time Jarrod had seen this. It was unsettling. Asmodeous paused then replied

  "Yes, Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt - the most beautiful of all women, ever. I had her for nearly ten years, fucked her senseless, all the time, couldn’t get enough of her. She was so unbelievably cute." He didn’t offer any more. Jarrod had to prod

  "So, what happened to her?" Asmododeous replied almost viciously

  "Well, what do you think, even her, age does wither and custom does stale. I threw her into the pit personally. Little vixen, fought me tooth and nail. Some of them just don’t get it." Jarrod asked

  "Don't get what?" Asmodeous growled back at him

  "If you're here, you've already lost - everything. You're really, well and truly, totally fucked. No use fighting it." Jarrod thought about this. He asked

  "Does this apply to us as well?" Asmodeous replied wearily and cynically

  "What do you think?"

  Jarrod had no reply to that – it really was too hard to think about right now. He found himself focusing on something else Asmodeous had just said. Genuinely puzzled he asked

  "That's the second time you've quoted Shakespeare. You read down here?" Asmodeous replied blankly

  "Of course. For ever is a long time." He was going to elaborate but Jarrod cut in on him with a burning question of his own.

  "So what happened to him? Shakespeare?" Asmodeous shrugged, looked around

  "He would be too thoughtful and independent to be let in upstairs. And of course down here we only keep them if they're young, pretty and fuckable. So I'd say he's in the Pit. Don't know for sure but where else could he be." Jarrod was shocked. He asked

  “Newton, Maxwell, Einstein, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart?” Asmodeous replied

  “All in the Pit, for sure.” Jarrod continued on

  “Descartes, Hume, Kant, Hegel, Wittgenstein?” Asmodeous shrugged

  “All in the Pit, um, not Wittgenstein though.” Jarrod was surprised by this, he asked

  “What?” Asmodeous replied

  “Gaap keeps him in a cage and torments him from time to time.” Jarrod sighed, thinking to himself

  ‘Not entirely undeserved.’ Then he asked Asmodeous

  "Does any one even pretend that any of this makes sense, or that it's just?" Asmodeous sneered back at him

  "What? Are you fucking five years old? Of course not!"

  Asmodeous continued guiding him through the department. They finally came to the end of a long central corridor and proceeded down some stairs and then out onto the next level down. It seemed a little darker. Asmodeous led Jarrod towards the first door on the right. Exuding his usual cynicism he exclaimed

  "I'll show you one of my trophy rooms – a personal favourite of mine." He seemed a bit excited, clearly expecting some particular kind of reaction. Jarrod had no idea what to expect - when Asmodeous opened the door and entered he followed him in carefully. He stared out at the scene before him and gasped. There was a vast cavernous room extending into the distance - its walls covered with mostly older males hanging on meat hooks. There were thousands, tens of thousands of them, naked, dishevelled - mostly greying, pudgy. Many of them were moving about slowly, clearly in terrible agony, but unable to find any relief. Their pale taut faces spoke of pain beyond measure - and never ending. Asmodeous waved his hand out over them, clearly proud of his trophies

  "Paedophile priests, I collect them." Jarrod was shocked. He tried to mumble some kind of response but nothing came out. He couldn’t feel any kind of sympathy for the priests, just revulsion. Asmodeous strode down a central aisle for a few dozen metres with Jarrod following. He stopped in front of one of the priests, pointed to him and said

  "Do you remember this one?" Jarrod looked up at him, reluctantly and then after a few moments replied

  "No. Should I?" Asmodeous gave him his usual cynical smile.

  "This is Father Menzies. He was your parish priest when you were a child." Jarrod couldn’t connect the parish priest of his memory to the wasted emaciated figure hanging naked in front of them. He did recall his first holy communion. He was puzzled. He said quietly

  "He ran away from me. He was killed by a truck." But now Jarrod finally understood why.

  "Ah, so he knew somehow?" Asmodeous smirked

  "Yes. I gave him a little help. It didn't quite turn out as expected. Anyway I added him to my collection. He's been here since then - many of them have been here much longer." Father Menzies just moaned, he couldn’t follow what they were saying or even hear them clearly. He was all alone and lost forever in the depths of his own unending agony. Jarrod felt nothing for him one way or the other and to Asmodeous he was just another specimen on a hook. They turned around and walked back to the entrance - forgetting him almost immediately. Asmodeous seemed to be uncharacteristically thoughtful.

  "They're a strange lot. They represent the triumph of lust over the slightest shred of human decency. A personal victory for me and a great victory for the department but to tell you the truth the sick fucks disgust even me. I just cannot comprehend them. Why the dumb assholes couldn’t just jerk off or go to a brothel I have no fucking idea."

  The whole level seemed to consist of just one long corridor with a small number of evenly spaced rooms each of them evidently quite large. Jarrod remembered Abaddon’s point about differing geometries – who knew what was possible down here. He followed Asmodeous down the corridor, glancing at the closed doors as they passed them, wondering what kind of new horror existed behind each of them. He decided he didn’t want to know and certainly wasn’t going to ask. Asmodeous didn’t say anything. He still seemed to be vaguely amused and smugly pleased with himself. Jarrod couldn’t recall ever disliking anyone so intensely. He had to question Asmodeous about how to get out of Hell and then just leave. Leave here, and then leave Hell itself.

  They reached the end of the corridor and proceeded down another stairway to the next level. They came directly out into a large open room. Right there in front of them there was a long row of young females, all standing straight. They were completely nude, their hands tied and pulled above their heads by ropes tied to a long metal rod, itself supported at each end by metal poles. There were about fifty of them. They were all terrified, looking about anxiously, eyes wide open. But there was nothing they could do. Jarrod couldn’t help but stare, then, he looked at Asmodeous, asking

  “Who are they?” Asmodeous explained, without displaying much interest

  “Just the next batch of slave girls, waiting to be trained and broken in. Only recently deceased - most of them haven’t figured it out yet. Amusing, isn’t it?” Jarrod didn’t think so but he didn’t reply.

  A large demon came into view on the other side of the room. He was walking towards them. He was bringing in two more naked girls. Their necks were locked in metal collars attached to leashes that the demon was holding. As Jarrod watched, one of the girls tripped and fell face down. When the demon pulled her back up onto her feet she started to cry. Asmodeous watched the incident with disgust and then sneered

  “Stupid creatures! If they didn’t have tits and a cunt who would bother with them.” He didn’t seem to care much, he was j
ust annoyed. Jarrod though was horrified by all of it, but again there was nothing he could do.

  Asmodeous walked across the room to a closed door on the far side motioning for Jarrod to follow. He was finally beginning to show some real enthusiasm – which concerned Jarrod greatly. Asmodeous turned to him before opening the door

  “I have to show you my favourite collection – chamber thirty seven - and introduce you to the most refined and most exquisite of erotic instruments – the scalpel.” Jarrod could hardly believe what he was hearing. He didn’t know how to react. But there was no way he was going through that door. Asmodeous could see his unease and mocked him

  “What? A little squeamish, how can that be? The mighty Beelzebub!” Jarrod remained silent, forcing himself not to react. Asmodeous tried to press his advantage.

  “A little habit I picked up on my last incarnation on Earth, London 1888, I was Jack the Ripper.” He said this with an underling edge of manic glee that was truly disturbing. It was the first time Jarrod had seen him where he was anything other than dark and cynical – or at best mildly amused. Asmodeous glared at him

  “Most of us go up there to have a good time in one form or another. No-one knows what the fuck you were doing.” He stared at Jarrod, openly challenging him. Jarrod shrugged his shoulders, replied

  “I don’t know either.” Asmodeous glared back at him, angry, suspicious. He spoke slowly

  “And if I believed that it should be me on one of the tables in there.”

  Jarrod was becoming very angry with Asmodeous and he was especially outraged by chamber thirty seven. But he’d come here for a reason and he knew he must be patient for just a little longer. Asmodeous had hinted at some important knowledge he was willing to share. Jarrod reminded himself that this was the only reason he was putting up with him or any of this. Asmodeous was obviously a piece of shit. He faced him squarely and asked bluntly

  “So are you going to tell me or not?” Asmodeous replied

  “What? What are you talking about?” Jarrod wasn’t fooled by his affected ignorance. He asked again

  “Back at the Great Hall you said something about escaping from here.” Asmodeous replied

  “Oh that! You looked like that was all you were thinking about. I was just referring to the Compass. But I no longer have it, I gave it to Paimon. Get it from him; he’ll be happy to give it to you.” Jarrod was suddenly very interested

  “The compass, what does it point to?” Asmodeous pretended surprise at the question but then began to explain

  “It shows you the way across the Plains of Desolation to the portal that goes back to Earth.” Jarrod’s eyes went wide. He cried out

  “What?” But Asmodeous now almost seemed bored.

  “I still don’t believe you don’t know this. Without the Compass you’d just get hopelessly lost on the Plains. Even with it, there’s great danger, even for you.” Jarrod quickly asked

  “Danger, how?” Asmodeous continued, still bored

  “The Plains are infested with the insane. They’re everywhere.” He could see Jarrod pondering that. He pressed on

  “There are some very strange cults. Further out, on the edge, there are the ancient gods – that’s where they were all banished to when Yahweh took over. And you do not want to fuck with them, believe me. But you won’t need to go that far - you just have to worry about the insane.” Jarrod was already planning it out

  “How do we avoid them?” Amsmodeous smiled

  “We! Ah yes, you’ll be taking your bitch. Don’t travel at night they’re too savage. By day they might leave you alone. You, that is. If they catch her alone they’ll rip her to pieces.” Jarrod persisted

  “What happens when we get to the Portal?” Asmodeous

  “It comes out in a cave. You’ll be alive again. It’s been used before. Though it’s different for demons, we just go through.” He paused, and then mocked

  “Oh that’s right; you’re actually one of us.” Jarrod wasn’t even listening any more. He was ebullient. There was a way out. He could leave with Cassandra.

  Asmodeous watched him closely trying to figure out what his real aim was –but he still couldn’t see anything. Then he said slyly, aiming to offend

  “So do you want to see my collection in chamber thirty seven or not? It’s practically a work of art.” Jarrod, finally out of patience, and now with no reason not to, turned on him viciously

  “No I don’t you sick fuck. I’m leaving. I hope I never see you again.” Then he turned around and walked back across the room. He passed the row of slave girls and felt guilty just leaving them there. But there was nothing else he could do. He made his way to the staircase – Asmodeous followed, looking both angry and amused at the same time. Jarrod made his way up through the two levels, back through the front rooms and out into the foyer and then finally to the outside. Asmodeous followed him closely the whole way. As Jarrod started to walk away Asmodeous called out

  “I know what you and Lucy are planning.” Jarrod stopped. Asmodeous continued

  “You’re going to attack Heaven again everyone knows that. But I know how you think you’re going to win.” Jarrod didn’t say anything. Whatever Asmodeous said was deceptive and manipulative and at this point worthless. He might even be lying about the portal but Jarrod knew he could always check with Abaddon. Asmodeous was starting to get very angry.

  “But you won’t win. You can’t. I look forward to the battle. Lucifer and the mighty Beelzebub take on the Creator, round two. I will personally piss on whatever blood splattered fragments of you are left before throwing them into the pit.” Jarrod replied simply

  “Fuck you” then turned and strode off. Asmodeous screamed out after him

  “Fuck you too” and then continued to rant and rage, but Jarrod was no longer listening.

  ***************

  When Jarrod arrived back in his apartment in the Department of Hate he found Cassandra was under attack. He rushed to her aid. Three of the ugly gnome-like creatures were attacking her. They were similar to, even identical with, the one he’d seen at Waterloo station. Two of them were holding her down. The third was trying to get in between her legs – straining to push them apart. Jarrod was already in a savage mood. He took several steps forward, grabbed the one in the middle, picking it up by its throat, then turned, stepped back and smashed its head into the wall. Its skull cracked and it fell to the ground twitching. He roared out to the others

  “Get out.” They scurried for the door. They grabbed their fallen comrade and dragged him out behind them.

  Jarrod sat on the bed beside Cassandra, still in a furious mood, though not at her of course. He put his arm around her shoulder

  “Are you all right?” She was shaking, still terrified. She managed to say

  “One of them, or one just like them, has been stalking me all my life, ever since I was a young girl. I’ve never known why. I hate him so much, and I am so scared of him. And I can’t even remember his name.” Jarrod consoled her

  “They’re gone now. I won’t let them, him, come back.” Cassandra shook her head sadly

  “I was always pretty sure that this is where he came from. But now I know.” Jarrod sat beside her for a few minutes holding her, waiting. Once she had stopped shaking he announced

  “I’ve found a way out.” Cassandra was shocked by this

  “What! How?” Jarrod was eager to explain.

  “We are getting out of this mad slaughter house. There is a portal back to earth, in the plains around the city. There is some danger.” Cassandra waved her hand, expressing indifference

  “So what, lets go then.” Jarrod continued to explain

  “We can’t go now. We can’t travel at night – we’ll leave first thing in the morning. Also I have to pick up a compass first. We’ll need it to navigate.” Cassandra smiled. She said

  “That’s wonderful.”

  They held each other for a long time neither of them saying anything further, then they fell a
sleep together.

  Chapter 12 – Run Away Screaming

  Robert McDowell came out of his office into the hallway. He was holding a newspaper – looking quite surprised. He could see Jarrod, just a few doors down, outside of his own office, talking to a young woman. She was strikingly beautiful - long jet black hair, slim and shapely, not too tall, around twenty-five, cute face, perfect breasts. She did have a bit of a hard look about her, a little too determined, but a lot of the female students were like that. He half-recognised her, a grad student from one of the other departments, but he couldn’t remember which one. As he approached them he heard her say

  "All right then, I'll see you tonight". Then she turned around and headed off down the corridor. He watched her beautiful ass sway from side to side as she walked away and sighed appreciatively, thinking

  'Ah the simple things.'

  He stood in front of Jarrod. He was, as usual, loud and confrontational. He grinned broadly

  "So, got a date at last, limp dick loser.” He looked back down the corridor. “Not bad though." Jarrod grimaced

  "Not exactly a date". He paused. "I'm going to a black mass." Robert looked back at him incredulously. For a few moments he didn’t seem to know what to say, and then he burst out with

  "That is fucking brilliant. Dancing around naked with all those pretty young things, all oiled up, humping each other senseless in one big gooey pile of bodies. You're a fucking genius. Why didn’t I think of that years ago?" Jarrod laughed

  "I don’t think there's an orgy involved - but why don’t you come along, if you want? I'll have to check with Olivia. But I’m sure it will be OK. They seem fairly open." Robert looked back at him stoically

  "I'm a happily married man - and if Wendy found out she'd certainly cut my balls off. Still, shagging the Satanists - that is just brilliant! And if it doesn’t work out you can find some wacked out scientology chicks - plenty of them everywhere. You're really onto something here. Fuck the crazy ones!" Jarrod laughed again.