More mini stories brought to us by the demonic  rastle

This time, we'll spend a typical day in Hell with the Department of the Apocalypse. Starting with Arma, director of Conquest and Justice and Satan's personal secretary, followed by Festo, director of Famine and Consumption and Hell's most renowned cook, and finishing with Plaga, Hell's maid, director of Pestilence and Purification.

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First Judgement

From behind the bench, Arma, the Judge of Hell, peered down at the man before her. "Through your entire life," she spoke, "you have abused your power and wealth to enrich yourself, put others down, and make your world a living hell. Now, you will be made to answer for your sins."

At once, the man disappeared from the floor, replaced by what appeared to be a tiny, ant-sized demon. Arma rose from the bench and stepped up to him, staring down impassively. "The powerful made powerless. Your punishment begins." With that, she stamped her foot onto him.

Over and over, the Judge's foot stamped, stomped, and splattered the tiny demon, who felt every agonizing stomp, twist, and grind that she inflicted upon him. With every torture she brought, he was reduced to a smudge, but reformed into his ant-like body. This truly WAS hell.

Unfurling her gold and white wings, Arma took to the sky, higher and higher above the ant. She almost seemed to disappear into the hazy sky. But all at once, she reappeared, plummeting toward him, feet-first. She landed heavily, elegantly, her foot absolutely obliterating him.

Folding her wings back up, Arma scraped her foot back, dislodging the ant demon from her sole before reaching down and snatching it up. "I will give you a few centuries to think about your misdeeds." she said simply, opening her mouth and tossing him into the void within her maw.

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Dining in Hell

Festo exhaled slowly through his nose as he awaited the coming onslaught. Every single day this happened, and today would be no different. But this was HIS kitchen, and though he was already damned, he'd be damned again if he would be driven from HIS kitchen by the hungry hordes.

The doors burst open and in they flocked - demons of every size and shape, heading directly for his furnace. Festo was ready, a butcher's knife in one hand, meat cleaver in the other. Meat was cleft from bone in a horrifying bloodspray ballet of chops and hacks.

Scores of demons larger than he fell, their meaty bits littering the floor in messy, bloody hunks. Those who were unfortunate enough to be smaller fared no better, as Festo's giant feet proved just as fast as his hands, stomping the miniature demons into a pasty mush underfoot.

It was over in minutes. The hordes of demons lay on the floor in pieces at and under Festo's feet. The demonic chef panted slowly, trying to regain his breath. He set his bloodied utensils aside and began to collect the fallen demons. They would still serve one last purpose...

The feast in the Judge's Hall later that evening was exquisite as Arma's guests consumed dish after dish of gourmet demon flesh and offal. While the ingredients were never the best, Festo prided himself on being able to turn them into something their betters would die to eat.

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Savoir Vivre

"MERDE!!"

The entire city could hear the cry of anger and frustration from the colossal green demon, clad in a maid's outfit and face-obscuring gas mask.

Picking up her foot, Plaga growled as she observed the messy, gory red stain on her otherwise pristine white stocking.
"I told vous to stay out of z'e way, trou du cul!" she roared as she scraped her foot, dislodging the gory remains, but further staining the stocking.

"I thought I was far enough away!" the meat pile replied, "Not my fault you aren't watching where you put those clodhoppers!"

"You...!" Plaga began, her green skin almost turning red with rage before she reached down behind her and pulled out the hose and power head of an enormous vacuum cleaner. As it clicked on, it roared with an intensity that shook the city to its core. People began to flee in fear.

But the vacuum cleaner was quick and efficient. Entire buildings were sucked up with ease, crowds of people being swept up as though in a tornado and disappearing up the mechanical beast's mouth. Before long, the city was clean and pristine... and almost entirely devoid of life.

Clicking the vacuum off, Plaga turned her attention to a few tiny survivors, scurrying away as fast as they could. "Hmph." she scoffed as she strode up to the fleeing bugs, lifting her stained stockinged foot overhead and stamping down hard, splattering them easily beneath it.