[ WP ] By the time I had finished , there was no blood left . Only ice .

The heat blared, forcing me to keep my eyes squeezed shut for a while. In the distance I could hear screams hollow as the night ringing out over red-bricked roads twenty miles beneath the crust of the earth. The air sweltered into a sickly fog. Before me, tied down on a table, tilted half-upright, the man assigned to me specifically lay struggling quietly, a bag tied over his head. 
 
 I cleared my throat, picked up my writing pad and forms, and put on the required gloves. The fingertips had been dipped in a type of tar that provided some kind of heat protection. Nothing protection-wise for the eyes, though, never for the eyes, which had bothered me for quite a while yet. Horrible working conditions. At least I was not the one tied to a table. 
 
 `` Mr. Vermeers?'' I seated myself on the stool positioned somewhat oddly right in front of the man, so that my face was level with his crotch. I frowned uncomfortably, but decided to get on with the proceedings. 
 
 The man was looking around wildly in the sack over his head, so I assumed it was him. `` Right, please allow me to explain the situation to you. You have sinned gravely, which I presume you know...?'' There was no immediate affirmation or denial, so I continued. `` In any case, you are now a customer of our special services, by which you are elect to have your soul cleansed. The standard -- 
 
 `` Wait! Wh -- What? Cleansed?'' His voice was shaking terribly. 
 
 `` Indeed, sir. May I inquire as to whether you read the contract?'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` The tracts...? Were you at all religious?'' With no real reply but for panic and the like, I checked the box marked'Heretic' in cold blood. I had long since stopped feeling guilty for doing it. 
 
 `` Sir, are you aware that you are, in fact, dead and now in some form of afterlife you believed in during your life?'' Same response, ergo: nothing at but panic, grunts, twists, and exertions of all kinds in an attempt to be freed. My patience was growing thin. It had been a long day, hotter than usual because of the damned ( excuse my language ) fire pits. At least Envy has used stoves and furnaces, that had been bearable. But we do not have devils like Envy anymore. No, not it is just Hate and his bloody grandure. 
 
 Patience at an end, I decided to go for threats. `` Sir, please respond in English? Even Hell is corporate to that extent.'' No effect. `` Shall I tell you a few things about myself in an effort to have you work along?'' 
 
 The guy stilled somewhat before renewing his panic in an even greater frenzy. `` Sir. Please.'' Nothing. `` Cooperate. Now.'' Still nothing. This was exasperating. `` Very well, sir. Please understand this well. I have poured acid onto a gentleman's dearest parts for no reason other than to relieve myself of some stress. I have made aethereal beings scream in envy of the living for the release from pain they feel. I have made angels weep for mercy. These fingers? They have probed and prodded more than you can even imagine is prod-able in your body while still alive and feeling. Do no tarry with me! You should perhaps ponder in silence my worst act, which is beyond imagining even for the God whose name you called in absolute vain during your petty life!'' I smiled thinking back. Those were the days. I told the man calmly what I had done to the girl hours on end. ``... And by the time I had finished, there was no blood left. Only ice.'' 
 
 There came a whimper from Mr. Vermeers. It floated like a lonely ghost into the heated air. `` Now, will you please answer?'' The bag on his shoulders nodded at me. `` First, your full name and profession, to optimize your torture and release you of your sins as efficiently as possible...'' It was a long, long day.
