Chapter 2: The First Steps

Jack trudged on. The weight of the oppressive heat in Hell's landscape was heavy on him. On all sides, the ground lay bare and cracked, stretching out endlessly. Above, churning red and black clouds filled the sky, bathing all in a hellish light. As he walked, Jack felt the weight of his situation settle heavily onto his shoulders. He was dead, and this was Hell. The absurdity of it all laughed in his face, but great was his refusal to turn victim under the weight of such despairing thoughts.

Far off, Jack noticed a grouping of dark, unruly structures; to him, they seemed a cross between ancient ruins and twisted metal, jutting out of the ground like the bones of some long-dead beast. With no other direction to go, he decided to head toward them, hoping to find some answers.

Closer to them, he could see the structures take form. Speaking of buildings, they were—distorted and disproportionate, their walls snake-like and twisting in on themselves. The closer he got, the more he could see movement within the shadows themselves. Figures flitted back and forth, some humanoid, others grotesque and monstrous.

Jack finally faltered at the edge of town, not really knowing how to go on, thinking he wanted information, but from the looks of things here, these really didn't seem like a very kindly bunch of people. Gathering his courage, he stepped forward.

"Hey!" Jack called, the pitch of his voice cracking. "I need some help!

Several heads turned in his direction. Amongst these was a hunched figure with cronenberg eyes glowing yellow, and teeth that ended off at razor-sharp points in every direction. It began to scuttle towards him with an unsettling grace that was far too insect-like.

"What do we have here?" the creature hissed, rasp-whispering. "A fresh arrival, all lost and confused.

Jack swallowed convulsively, making himself meet the creature's eyes. "Yeah, I just got here. I need to know what's going on. Where am I supposed to go?"

The creature chuckled, a dry, grating sound. "Supposed to go? There's no supposed to in Hell, newcomer. You find your own way, or you perish. Simple as that.

Jack scowled. "But there has to be some kind of structure, right? Some way to survive?"

"Survive?" the creature repeated, its eyes narrowing. "Survival here is not like the mortal world. You must learn fast, lest you be devoured by the land, the other souls, or even demons like myself."

Before Jack could reply, a voice cut in. "Back off, Zarnok. Let the new guy breathe."

Jack turned to face a tall figure striding toward them. It was a man—or it seemed to be. He was human in proportions, but his skin was smooth to an odd degree and subtly unnatural in appearance. His eyes were piercingly blue, and his expression one of curiosity, tinged with amusement.

"Name's Sam," the man said, extending a hand to Jack. "I been down here a while. I can help you get your bearings."

Jack took Sam's hand, and a wave of relief washed over him. "Thanks. I'm Jack. I'm just trying to sort out what's going on."

Sam nodded. "I understand. Hell's a rough place to find yourself, especially at first. Let's find somewhere to talk."

He led Jack through the camp, past other creatures and souls who watched him with a mix of curiosity and hunger. They reached a small, relatively intact building, and went inside. The few flickering torches there dimly lit the interior, throwing long shadows on the walls.

"Sit," Sam said, gesturing to a makeshift bench. "I'll explain what I can.".

Jack sat down, the rough wood under him. "So, what exactly is this place? I mean, of course it's Hell, but." He shook his head. "It's not really what I expected."

Sam chuckled again. "Hell's not what anyone expects. It's different for everyone. Your personal Hell shaped by your life, your fears, regrets," he explained. "But there's a general structure to it all."

Jack leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs, his interest really piqued. "What do you mean?"

"There are layers, levels of torment and suffering," Sam explained. "The deeper you go, the worse it gets. But the higher levels—the ones we're currently in—there's more chaos. Souls like us—who aren't condemned to eternal torture, that is—are fond of haunting these parts. That's a constant struggle for power and survival."

Jack's mind spun as he took all this in. "So, how have you survived this place? What's the secret?"

Sam's face turned somber then. "Strength, cunning, alliances. You need to learn how to fight, how to use what little resources you can find, and who to trust. Demons are powerful, but they have their own politics and rivalries. Sometimes, you can use that to your advantage." 

Jack nodded slowly. "And what about escaping? Any way out?"

Sam's eyes had darkened. "Escape? That's a dangerous dream, Jack. Most who try end up in worse places than where they started. But I'll tell you this—if you're serious about it, you'll have to be stronger than you ever thought possible."

A surge of hope flickered alive inside him. "I am prepared to do whatever it takes. I don't want to rot here for eternity.

"Good," Sam said, his tone approving. "You'll need that determination. But first things first, you need to learn the basics. Come with me."

They left the building and walked through the settlement. Sam pointed out various landmarks—a marketplace where souls traded whatever goods they could scavenge, a fighting pit where disputes were settled, a dark tower in the distance that Sam warned to avoid at all costs.

"Why avoid it?" Jack asked, curious.

"That's where one of the local demon lords resides," Sam explained. "You don't want to attract their attention until you're ready to handle it. Trust me."

Jack nodded, making a mental note to steer clear. As they walked, Sam continued to share insights and tips about surviving in Hell. Jack listened intently, absorbing every word.

Finally, they reached a secluded spot on the edge of the settlement. Sam turned to Jack with a serious face. "Alright, time for your first lesson. Fighting."

Jack felt a ball of anxiety meet in his stomach. "I've never been much of a fighter."

"You'll learn," Sam said firmly. "Down here it's fight or be consumed. Let me show you some basics.

They spent the next hour covering some fighting techniques. Sam showed how to use the environment to your advantage, how to anticipate the opponent's moves, how to hit an opponent effectively. Jack fumbled through it at first, but Sam was very patient, correcting the way he stood and moved.

"Remember, Jack," he said, easily sparring, "it isn't just the physical fighting here. It's mental, too. You have to be sharp, always thinking.".

Jack nodded, wiping the sweat dripping down from his face, feeling his muscles protest. But he pushed through the discomfort because he knew he had to get stronger if he wanted to survive.

After a rather intense bout, Sam called a stop to the exercise. The two of them sat on the ground, catching breaths.

"You know, you're doing a lot better than expected," Sam said, nodding encouragement at Jack. "Keep it up and you've got a chance.".

"Thanks," Jack said, his regard flashing with pride. "I will keep practicing."

They were quiet for some time, Hell steady in the background. Jack went back in thought to his life, the choices which brought him to this place. He remembered all of those countless times that he felt so helpless, yet a flicker of hope now came across his heart. Maybe he could do something about his fate even here, in a place as relentless as Hell.

"Sam," Jack said low, breaking the silence that was there before, "why are you helping me?"

Sam turned his gaze to him, a bit sorrowful in his eyes. "Because I have walked where you walk. Lost, confused, desperate. Someone helped me when I first came here, and it made everything different. Just paying it forward."

A surge of gratitude branched out in Jack. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

Sam smiled. "Just stay alive, Jack. That's thanks enough."

They trained for a few days, Jack improving steadily. He had learned to settle to the depths of the settlement, avoiding trouble and making a few tentative alliances. He realized that there were so many souls out there as lost as he was, fighting to survive. Some were friendly; others hostile; but all part of Hell's harsh reality.

One evening, while they were sitting next to a small fire, Jack asked Sam about his past. "How long you been here?"

Sam looked away into the distance. "Longer than I care to remember. Time's different here. Hard to keep track."

"What did you do? To end up here, I mean.

Sam flopped his hands helplessly against his thighs, then sighed. "I made a lot of mistakes in my life. I hurt people I cared about, made some choices. That I regret. I thought that was beyond redemption. Maybe I am. But down here, I've found a kind of purpose. Helpin' others survive gives me somethin' to hold onto."

Jack nodded, the weight of regret binding him. "I feel the same way. I mean, my life was. it was empty. I never did anything that counted for anything. But now, maybe I can make a difference."

Sam smiled, and there was something real and honest in his eyes. "You're off to a good start, Jack. Just remember, this place will test you in ways you can't imagine. Stay strong and don't lose track of who you are.

Jack looked into the fire, its flames leaping across the dark. He knew things on the road ahead would be hard, but he felt a sense of purpose for the first time in so very long. He would fight, he would survive, and by God above, he would find a way to change his fate.

As the fire hissed and the shadows reached out, Jack made a vow to himself in silence: to rise above this Hell, no matter what it would take. And just maybe, in this most unlikely of places, he would find redemption.