He had only read the epic Dante’s Inferno once during his college years and the bulk of the story eluded his memory thanks to the many years spent cultivating the heavy drinking lifestyle that he had obtained while living in the dorms and followed him into the rather lavish lifestyle he was living now. But that kind of book and its details could never truly be forgotten, and while he forgot exactly what sin needed to be committed to lead to whichever layer of Hell to extract the appropriate punishment onto that poor soul, he knew that he would likely be finding out which one he’d find his way into eventually. For what he had done, and what he was planning on doing, he was certain that there was a special level of Hell waiting for him.

Even before inviting himself into the Negaverse, Richard Moreau had done some pretty raunchy things, and while a bulk of that was usually contained in the bedroom, he could not deny that he was full of sin. Petty, little white sins that every man committed. He lied, stole from his parents and maybe others on multiple occasions as a child, got into fights with his brother and others over silly things that young boys often had a short temper for. He had kicked a dog once, but he felt immediately remorse and vowed never to do it again, so at least that spared him from the thought that he may have been a sociopath and given the amount of mental problems he probably harbored, not being plagued with that was definitely worth a sigh of relief. Small victories, here and there, but it was still a victory in his book.

But the other sins he had committed as an adult, as a Negaverse agent, that he did not lament. Within the last year, he had managed to get so much blood on his hands, though compared to the veterans, he knew it would only continue to get redder and redder. He could try to wash them off, but why did he feel no compulsion to? He thought he could stop if he needed to, if he felt his soul was threatened, and he knew that he could get away with it. He was expected to do a duty, but he always knew that there was a way out, should he decide to give up his ways. Yet, as much as any man should fear for his soul, he did not want to leave. Neither Destiny City, nor the Negaverse, at least not yet. He needed to make a name for himself, a bigger name, solidify his importance to General-King Zinkenite, Apatite… to everyone within the Negaverse. He had to be useful to them, irreplaceable, worthy of keeping around, should they decide to do a little cleaning. Not that he had heard of such a thing, but with Queen Beryl gone, he knew that it was always a possibility. He had to be essential to the Negaverse, somehow…

He needed more recruits. Solidify his position in the Negaverse, bolster their defenses and dazzle the others, even his superiors, with the list of great recruits to his name. He had to up his game… somehow. Even if it meant that he was reserving himself a nice, cozy spot in the lowest most layer of Hell, he would make himself indispensable… he would make the Negaverse proud. Then… then he could relax.

((Word Count: 580))