The netherworld, neither heaven, hell, nor purgatory. It is a mirror of our world. All things that seem odd in this world can usually be linked to occurrences in the netherworld. Aliens, shadow people, sea monsters. All are occurrences caused by rifts from the netherworld. There are beings that use these rifts to try and communicate the will of the demons to mankind, there are those that seek to use them in order to escape the government of their world and live amongst us. There are those that seek to wreak havoc on the world of humans. And then, there are the others, the humans. People cast from our world into netherworld. A rare occurrence indeed, such an event harbingers great change however, for their world, and for our own.

Stonehenge, Great Britain:

A portal opens in the middle of the stones, from it, two beings arrive. Demons, both are happy to be free of their oppressive government. They take a look around and breathe the fresh night air of the British countryside.

"What say you Meraphus? Shall we make game of the locals?" The elder of the two said to his companion.

"Continue in that horrific dialect, you'll get spotted for what you really are in no time."

"Ha, I know...Ah, I've got it. Why not- as a little gift to that horrid government that we've escaped, let's give them a little something to keep themselves busy with to halt their pursuit of us."

"mortals?"

"Indeed. As many interesting ones as we can find."

"So shall we search then?"

"But of course, Meraphus. Send out as many familiars as you like. Guide the mortals to portals and we'll give those higher-ups. Especially that wretched woman a good mess to clean up."

"right."

and with that, the two demons sent familiars all across the world. To stalk and spy on various people, to find ones of interest.

"Let's see who answers our call."

Kurt looked at the sky over his site. "..It's gonna rain any minute." he said to his companion, who looked bewildered. "How can you tell? The sky's not even gray..."
"I just have a feeling.. Anyways, we should probably pack up for the day." Kurt said, putting his shovel into its case.
"Alright, now I just have to write down the report and we're good to go," Kurt said, then turned back to the sky again. It had changed from a blue sky to a completely gray blob.
"What did I tell you? Anyways, I'll see you later. I gotta get home and get some sleep." Kurt said, waking towards his motorcycle.

one of the familiars had spied Kurt from afar, bewildered by this invention called a motorcycle.. as well as seeing the archaeological site.. the demon thought.. "Another demon... perhaps on run from the government as well... only demons would hang around such a site littered with objects from our world...I think this one should do.." and with that, the familiar pursued Kurt, keeping out of sight all the while.

Craig walked to the front door of his building when he looked at the sky "I guess its a good thing I got back when I did it looks like its about to come down." he then walked through the door and up to his apartment which is a small one room one bath apartment. He then throws his cellphone, keys, and wallet on a table by the door he then walked over to his mini-fridge grabbed a beer and sat down on his couch and turned on his tv.

Kai was just driving around town in his truck. Nothing special happening really. He had been pulling a late shift at work because some old woman somehow managed to drive her car all the way to walmart with no oil. "Christ what some people do is just mind numbing." He grumbled and cursed under his breath as he came to a red-light. It was one of the older ones in town, still running on a timer rather than the more up to date sensors. "Bloody traffic lights...." He moaned as he waited.

On the TV, a news broadcast showing the weather was showing that strange electrical storms were popping up all around the area. As well as the world over.

The TV begins to glitch as the storm outside grows more intense, and, as the power cuts to black in Craig's apartment, Craig could see the face of one of the familiars reflected in the TV's screen. Though only for a moment, as the figure seemingly retreated into the bathroom.

Meanwhile, as Kai sat at the traffic light, it began to flicker. Flickering in such a way that would be seen as morse code to anyone experienced enough to know it... Kai's headlights began responding to the stoplight and shortly thereafter, his car died. It could be seen taht the road was suddenly vacated. The sky had turned gray and there was no sign of anyone anywhere. Just Bolt's car sitting in the middle of an intersection as the wind blew overhead and a thunderstorm grew.

He just had taken one drink of his beer when he saw the familiar after he saw it he look back at the bathroom and he couldn't see anything moving he then tried to look at the back of the can to see how old it was. He was about to pour it on the floor but he then threw the almost full can in the bathroom to see if anything was really in there.

Kai tried to start his car again but nothing seemed to work. With a sigh of annoyance he climbed out of his truck, moved over to the bed and pulled out his toolbox. One good thing about being a mechanic was that you usually had your tools with you. He couldn't figure out why the lights were pulsing, or why his headlights had been acting funny, but all that mattered now was that he fixed his piece of crap truck. "Stupid thing, I just had you tuned up yesterday! What could possibly be wrong now!!!" He yelled as he popped open the hood and tried to see what was the matter.

"Alright, NOW I'm freaking out." Kurt said to himself, noticing the huge electrical storm. He thought of the best thing to do next, so he figured that he was close enough to walk his motorcycle home rather than risk dying from the storm.
"Now we'll just hope the TV doesn't explode.." He said, turning on the TV and listening to the news.

Elsewhere, in an apartment in London, a woman opened to the door to her home just as the storm hit. She showed no signs of carrying about it though. She simply walked in and closed the door behind her, locking it. She walked in and took off her work jacket. Today had been... so boring. She sat down and turned on the TV. She hoped there was some tragedy occurring elsewhere... That would make her so very pleased. While others called the media deplorable for showcasing the horrors of this world for profit, Jeanne personally loved it. She was half convinced that without some daily news of dread she would have snapped long ago.

Deep in the city of Tokyo, there came a screech of tires as a car stopped abruptly for a pedestrian in the street. The pedestrian jumped suddenly to avoid the car and shouted to the driver, “Baka Kuso! [Dumb shit!]” Ignoring the return comments, he continued to the other side of the street where the “do not cross” sign was clearly illuminated. “Honestly, doesn’t anyone know you’re supposed to stop for pedestrians no matter where they are?” he breathed agitatedly to himself as he turned to the tall apartment building.

Once he returned to his compact room, consisting of a very small hallway with a bathroom, barely large enough to contain the three main parts of a fully functional bathroom and allow a single human to move around in it and a small coat closet on the other side, and a small room with an AC unit with a radio built in it under the window, an almost waist high with a TV and a phone on it, and a singles bed with the head to the window. “What a day,” the young man, Ian, complained as he turned on the radio to a channel playing soft Japanese music and collapsed on the less than cushy bed, not bothering to change or turn the lights out as he tried to nap.

Long shifts, lasting well into the night, were Davin's speciality. This evening he manned the small music store - known to most as Toni's, though the official name was Mad Music - in his usual haphazard manner, paying very little attention to anything except for the CD player that jammed into his ears, and the book that he crammed into his mind. There would be very few customers at this time, but, as a precaution, he made sure that he could see the entrance at the corner of his peripheral vision.

He propped his Converse-clad feet up on the counter, shifting them occasionally when he grew uncomfortable. His grey jeans, which bore a hole in each knee, covered most of the high-top shoes. Today, his band tee of choice held the cover art of up-and-coming System of a Down's self-titled album, the seemingly disembodied hand reached out of his chest.

Perhaps as a result of his wardrobe choice, Davin was also echoing the words of Serj Tankian throughout his mind with the help of the CD player in his lap. As the lyrics, beautifully wielded strings, and raging percussions of "Know" blared, a customer entered, quickly got what he came in for, and approached the register, where the young man reclined. The patron was middle aged and of average weight, but seemed below average in height standards. His callused finger tips, which held his soon-to-be-purchased Stevie Ray Vaughn album, revealed his passion.

"Did you find everything that you were looking for, sir?" Davin asked, standing and putting System on hold.

"Yes, thank you," the reply was reflexive, and there was obviously very little actual thought in it. He handed the case over, and the red-headed cashier immediately went to the cabinets which held such CDs, transmitting it from its plastic sheathe to the jewel case where it belonged.

"Very good. That will be $8.57," the number came before he had even punched anything into the cash register, proving how used to this job he really was.

The gentleman exited, and Davin once again sat at the cushioned stool, propping himself against the cabinet, and surrendering himself once more to the mesmerizing, simultaneous worlds of Koontz and Tankian.

Desmund sat at his desk, finishing up a article on a new play on Broadway. It was an easy job, which meant it was quite boring. It's not that he didn't enjoy writing, it was the opposite even, writing was his life. It was just, with the degrading process of having to critique plays like Cats, and other major hits, he just got so tired of it. Desmund had rose up the ranks in the newspaper business, from being a lowly intern, to being head of a department of The New York Times. Needless to say, he was doing pretty well in the business.

Desmund had just typed up the title on his article when a woman walked up next to his desk. "Staying late again?" She asked, "You've been doing that a lot lately." She added. It was true, Desmund rarley had time to go home on the regular work end days. He usually had to stay late and edit the work of people under him, because they had sent things not in order, or some random things were misspelled.

"Duty calls." He said, and she nodded, knowing he wasn't the person to put more into a conversation than that. She walked off, saying goodnight. Desmund looked up for a second, as she left, then looked back at his screen.

Desmund pulled up his other work, and turned on the radio, he figured he would put in some extra work on his story file on his computer before he headed home.

Five minutes after he threw the can in his bathroom all he can hear was the fizzing of the spilt contents of the can. He then thought "Well that was a waist of a good beer. Well since there is nothing else to do until the power kicks back on I'm going to sleep." and with that he laid down on the couch and drifted off to sleep even with the storm raging outside.

The interior of Brian’s prison was entrenched in complete chaos. Shouts and screams could be heard from every direction as security scrambled throughout the stone halls trying to regain control. Upon losing not only primary but emergency electricity in the prison, all the inmate’s cells’ electronic locks had released giving thousands of dangerous criminals the opportunity to escape, possibly into the heart of the heavily populated city of D.C.

Brian had been in his cell, staring at the dark ceiling when he heard a rhythmic clanking of cell locks all around him releasing in succession. Currently Brian was standing over the corpse of a security guard who was profusely bleeding from a socket in his head which had once held an eye. The guard’s remaining eye looked blankly at the cold ceiling. Brian glared down at the guard, with a bloodstained vibrant orange shank in hand muttering, “A**…” as he rubbed a lump on the side off his head where the guard has struck him with a nightstick.

Looking around, Brian wasn’t quite sure what was going on. There were no guards to be seen in the long, dark corridor in the deepest section of the prison’s maximum security wing (save the dead one on the ground before Brian).Brain began to move towards the main section of the prison, hoping to find a way out. Prison was a horribly boring place, and Brian saw promise for an early check-out. Being on the run would be a lot more interesting than staying in a cell all day. A sly grin on his lips, Brian left the chilling darkness of the maximum security, and joined in the dismantling of the prison with his fellow inmates.

Kurt woke up after realizing he had left the TV on. When he got to it though, it was already off. He looked out on his porch and noticed a quick flash; Something was outside. He ran back to his room and hoped that he was dreaming. He went to his computer, and tried to do things to get his mind off of it.

But, as hard as he tried, he couldn't.

Likewise, in all the places that (our heroes) these seemingly random people were, demon familiars came to spy on them. Once all the familiars had found their targets. They reported back to Meraphus and the other demon, Cicero.

"Well then old sport, what say we use this lot?" Cicero asked Meraphus.

"Seems fine ta me. Better do it now though, the gov's probably chasing us down and is hot on our tail by now. We have to close the portal or else."

"Right Right, old sport."

And with that, they summoned their familiars, who, in that instant, saw it fit to attack their human targets and ensnare them, so that, when they were called back, the humans would be dragged along. And so they were. The humans all seemingly were knocked unconscious and then woke only for a brief moment at Stonehenge in Britain.

"Welcome to our home." Called out one of the demons.

And with that, the humans were pushed into a portal, soon to awaken in a world far different than our own. but similar in many ways as well.


New Scene: The Cretin. A large hunting ship set to eternally drift through the oceans of Netherworld, it seeks down the two great beasts. It's captain, is Friedrich Nuremberg. And our human friends have all just fallen onto his deck. He simply stares down at the motley crew unflinching, he is a giant of a man, his harpoon gun held at his side.

Jeanne woke up on The Cretin. She only rubbed her head and looked around with a cool and uncaring stare. She quickly gathered that she was on an old boat. However, looking at the rest of the scenery... she was nowhere that could possibly be real. Great, Jeanne, you're now dreaming about 19th century boats. I never really thought I had a fetish to be an abusive captain and get pleasure out of torturing my crew. ...Not that's a bad fetish... She then observed that she was still in her normal clothing, a white dress shirt and blue mini-skirt.

What the hell...? I usually dress up for my dream fetishes. She then noticed the other Earthlings with her. All of them were wearing modern clothing as well. I am dreaming... right? I didn't get kidnapped, did I? She finally looked up and noticed the hard-to-miss captain. No.. he looks fitting to the setting... Well, since she didn't feel like just sitting there waiting for something to happen, she addressed the captain. "Excuse me, captain--I presume--would you mind telling me where I am? I've gathered this isn't a dream... Just where am I?" She had to becareful, as for all she knew she was indeed kidnapped and this was her kidnapper.

Nuremberg noticed her speaking and approached her. "You ma'am, are on my ship, The Cretin. You and your little boyfriends all simply landed here in the middle of our morning scouting missions." *he sniffs the air* "You smell of human.. No human, you are not dreaming. You are on my ship, The Cretin, in the middle of the Extranjero Ocean. Do you know these other humans..?" He said, asking Jeanne her name as well.

Extranjero? "No... I do not. Looking at them... I'm not sure they even come from the same part of the world as I do. I'm from Britain. My father was British and my mother was French. As such, my name joins the cultures: Jeanne Doe. Of course... that means little to you. No doubt, you have no idea what 'Britain' or 'France' are. Extranjero Ocean? So... just what world have I entered, captain?"

Nuremberg simply stood there, lost in memory. "Who're you to say I don't know about my homeland? Of course I know of Britain. Tell me, is Her majesty Victoria still queen? have they caught the ripper, Jack yet? Oh, and the Extranjero Ocean is foreign to your ears for a very good reason, but I'll explain that when more of you have woken up."

"Ugh, damn creature, keeping me up..." Kurt said, but suddenly stopped after noticing where he was. He looked around at the other people, not recognizing any of them, then turned to the Captain. "Er.. You must be the captain of this ship... Could you tell me where we are?"

Craig sat up rubbing the spot where he was conked. "Damn will you guys shut up some of us are trying to sleep off a hangover over here." he then opened his eyes and looked around. "Hey this isn't my apartment, its to clean. Where the hell am I this time?" He then spots the captain. "Oh I guess it too late to ask for permission to come aboard."

Slow to get his bearings, Brian took a few moments trying to gather where he was. He was slightly dizzy after being knocked out, nose to his blood-soaked shirt cuff. Brian didn’t think he had been caught; he just knew that he had been knocked out cold shortly after he walked over the flattened fence previously enclosing the prison yard. Getting up to one knee, Brian looked around. There were many other people here, none of them inmates. That much at least confirmed for Brian that he wasn’t headed back to maximum security yet.

The man talking to the other conscious members of the captured caught Brian’s eye. He seemed to be the one in charge. Brian didn’t particularly care about him, or the rest of the people around him. Brian was currently focused on finding the little turd that knocked him out, and slit the thing’s oily little neck.

“Hey ‘Captain’…” Brian said, “Who’s the one who cold-clocked me before bringing me here? I’ve got a matter to settle with him.”

As Brian spoke, he reached down towards his pocket, reaching for his shank. He thought he had put it away while he was helping to topple the fence in the prison yard, but he wasn’t sure. The time between then and now was a mixture of blurred images and black. It would probably take awhile for everything happening to fall together in logical sense.

"Aye" Nuremberg said simply to Craig. "All right, I might as well explain now, there's been a rift in dimensions it seems, between your world and this one. Humans, you are now in the place known as the netherworld. As for who brought you here, I'm not sure. Anyways, you are upon my ship, The Cretin. I am Captain Friedrich Nuremberg. First mate, come see to them, make sure they get their own quarters. Brief them once we're there. Standard procedure, of course." The captain said to someone who lay out of sight due to the massive amount of fog covering the ship. He then took out a slip of paper and stamped it before putting it into his coat.

"Aye captain" called a voice, and from the fog stepped a figure whose body was that of a human, but whose head appeared to be that of a moose. "I am first mate, Caribou."

If Jeanne hadn't lost her sense of humor, she would have snickled at the first mate. But, she remained indifferently sturn. She was more than willing to do whatever the captain said. She saw no benefits to protest, and she did not care about what was going on anyway. So she was in the Netherworld, to her it was no big deal. She figured that at least she didn't have to keep returning to that god-forsaken office of hers. She was getting way too close to killing at least three coworkers.

Letting a sharp breath out through his teeth, Brain began to relax. He would have to wait a while to get even with his capturer. Calming down, Brian had more time to examine the surreal world around him. Brain didn’t recognize fog as being so thick, even deep at sea. Brian had to give himself a small pinch to make sure he wasn’t dreaming when moose-headed Caribou appeared out of the encroaching mist.

Brian stared for a moment before regaining composure over himself. Despite Nuremberg’s assurances that he wasn’t dreaming, Brain still found himself waiting to wake up. Brain took a breath and shook his head from side to side. Even if this was a dream, he was going to go with it. At least it promised to be more interesting than staring at a stone ceiling for 16 hours.

Nuremberg seemed to want them in their quarters before going any further, so Brain refrained from introducing himself for the moment. Shortly after the Captain disappeared from eyesight, Brain turned his full attention to Caribou.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Brian asked “could I be accommodated in an open room, or somewhere on deck? I am not a big fan of small enclosures.”

Desmund at this time, decided it was a good time to try and get up. He had been awake for the whole period, but in seeing he was in no harm, it was safe, well, as safe as you could get on a demon ship.

Desmund pushed off the floor, his muscles getting used to the new atmosphere and it's gravity. His arms twitched and even slightly spasmed, but this was due to other things. He made his way to a standing position, where he looked over the other humans who had come on this ship. There appeared to be, a British woman, a few still to come off the ground, and a few others that were talking that he didn't really care about. The reason the girl peaked his interest, was because she was from Brittan. As it were, he hated Brittan with an undying passion. He usually even decided not to speak, for that would cause his British accent to come in. However, this is a time he would most likely be inclined to speak.

Desmund stepped forward, So just to clarify, the demon world exists, therefore god exists. In this knowledge, right and wrongs apply to actions, so in conclusion, my life has most likely been some screwing up.

He stood up straight, his hands behind himself. "So, if we were to have, had a bit of a hard life, and were forced to make some, bad decisions. We'd end up as demons, correct?" He asked, "So, that must mean your crew mates must of done some bad things." He then quirked his eyebrow, "How do we know you're so trustworthy?"

"Not so fast," Jeanne was quick to intercept Desmund's question. "He merely stated that we were in the Netherworld. While that can be interpretated as Hell, for all we know it may be something completely different. The captain said it was a different dimension. Doesn't most religion that excepts Hell classify the place as a sort of extion of our own? If so, then this might be Hell as it seems the Netherworld and Earth aren't directly connected. But, this is all guesses anyway. I can say, knowing myself, that we may very well be worthy of Hell, but I have my doubts about this being said pit. ...It seems too mundane to be the World of Eternal Damnation, or whatever horrid title it has gained from fanatics."

Desmund sort of shrugged. "I always wrote hell being a giant black void from which you are always falling. The torture being faith was avoided." He then pointed to the first mate, "However, I don't know what you classify as demon, but a man with a horse on his head is not exactly the holiest image in the world, or any worlds around it." He made no attempt to apologize to the insult that may of befallen the first mate.

At this slight argument, the captain stepped in to quell the argument. "All will be explained. Wait for me below the deck, I'll tell you about your situation momentarily. The Crew and I must deliberate amongst ourselves however, on what to do with you. Whether we drop you off at the nearest port. Or if we continue with you lot on board."

And with that, Caribou opened a door, beckoning the party in. "Don't worry about the closed space thing, you guys are just going to be below deck for now. It's pretty open down there. Oh, and as for your statement about my head, I don't care so much about you calling me unholy, just get it right, it's a moose head, not a horses." Caribou then led the party into the lower deck and left them to talk amongst themselves about their current situation.

Kurt went below decks as he was told. He sat against the wall, then started considering all possibilities about what this place was, how they got there, and why them. "While we're waiting, I'm Kurt. And you all are?"

Sitting up and rubbing his head, Ian looked around. Soon it sank in that he wasn’t in his apartment anymore, but all he did was go along with it all.

“Boku wa Ian desu [I’m Ian],” he replied, not yet reacquainted with the English language yet. He glanced around at the current place, still not able to comprehend what had just happened or even where he was. “Koko ni naze desu ka? [Why am I here?]”

((One quick note: Translations may not be 100%))

"The names Craig." He was standing in the corner of the room with his eyes closed in thought.

((congrats on actually using Japanese Xa Far, way to go for realism.))

"Great, so you mean the man upstairs didn't tell you yet?" a voice called from the shadows of the interior of the ship. The voice sounded like that of a little girl. "You're in for a surprise, humans.. hee hee hee.." and with that, a little girl walked out into their circle. She was wearing a long trench coat. Her hand stuck out from the coat to shake with someone, her eyes were both lazy and seemingly wandered around on their own free will, her hair was ratty and dyed blue. And her small hand and arms were covered in scars. But apart from this, she looked like an average young girl. "Name's Lillian Vicious.. a pleasure." She didn't wait for anyone to shake her hands before going over to Brian and sniffing at him and smiling, she then cuddled with Brian and became lost in a strange euphoria.

Needless to say, Brian was surprised when Lillian came over to him and began sniffing. He had been standing in the center of the room looking around when the young girl emerged from the shadows.

“Um, hey.” Brian said awkwardly. “I’m Brian, I got all your names except for wakka-deza boy over there.” Brian made a vauge gesture towards Ian.

“And before you ask, yes prior to our little trip to Neverland here I was incarcerated. This outfit isn’t for no Halloween party. Don’t make a big deal out of it and we’ll get along fine.” Brian looked down at the girl attaching herself to his side. Why she was acting this way, Brian had no idea.

Davin, all of this time, remained on the deck, which the other human beings had abandoned for the possibly more comfortable under-quarters. This was not a voluntary action, on his part, but a result of his own consciousness holding out for a longer period than his involuntary peers. He would have remained in such a state, were it not for the majestic blare of Daron Malakian's guitar play during the song "Suggestion."

By the time he had truly gained consciousness, Serj squealed out the words "The ships are multiplying day after day, sir, and they're coming close to the shore, sir, shore sir!" The song was oddly befitting for the area that his now adjusted eyes revealed to him, which appeared to be a sailing craft of sorts. He was confident that it was not an object of perverted or otherwise dreams, as he was also positive that he could tell a difference between being awake and sleeping. Davin's dream self was a far different person than he was, and he hated him.

Slowly, the red-headed human lifted his head, and sat to an upright position. His legs remained crossed, but his eyes were straight as the most precise of boards, catching the still open door where his fellow human beings could be seen. An odd assortment, but he was never one to judge before knowledge presented itself, and he was also not one to believe in true knowledge.

Seeing things in such a light, he raised himself to his feet, stretching inconspicuously as he did so. His emerald eyes caught the small flicker of light that existed in this confused plane of placelessness, remaining on the party inside the quarter where he approached.

"I am terribly sorry, but am I interrupting something?" His voice, as usual, was soft, and bore a tone that lacked the extreme qualities that endow its carriers the ability to be heard over conflicting ruckus.

Desmund stood in the room, taking it all in and writing notes to himself on a small notepad he had pulled out of his coat pocket. There was no better story inspiration then that which was real. He finished writing it all down and put it back in his pocket, and then decided he should reveal his identy.

"Baron Desmund Von Locke, is the full name." He said just out to anyone, putting his hands in his pockets, "Pen name is Venge. I write for the New York Times." He stated, leaning against a wall and watching the young girl act like a puppy towards this Brian character. Odd.

Craig looked at Davin as he walked in. "Not really we're just introducing ourselves while the captain of this fine ship decides what he is going to do with us." he then closes his eyes again and mumbles to himself "I could go for a cold one right about now."

Ian noticed the gesture towards him. “Nani!? Dare ni… [What!? Who are you…]” he started before realizing that he was in an English speaking crowd now. He sighed deeply in aggravation and said “Never mind. But if no body minds me asking; just what the hell is going on?”