"Your Honor," said Mr. Duran while looking panicked, "Isn't this extreme, everything was an accident, and according to my files- yes my clients were drunk, but the sudden popping of the car tire caused everything."

"Silence!" boomed Judge Rosenthyme as he once again tried to swing his gavel. However, Jonas interrupted him.

"How can you do that?" he demanded, "It wasn't his fault!"

"Impudent!" roared Judge Rosenthyme, "My word is law, did I not say that, to begin with. Count yourself lucky that you don't have to spend the rest of eternity on the sixth floor with your worthless murderer of a brother."

"Fine!" said Jonas, "Then I'll go with-" but before he could finish his sentence, Jonas felt something heavy hit his stomach with such force that it knocked the wind out of him. Suffocating and gasping for air, Jonas' eyes widened in shock at his brother.

"Shut the fuck up, stupid prick," said Drake. His eyes glared at Jonas, who was still in disbelief that his brother had punched him for the first time.

The prison escorts looked like they wanted to apprehend Drake, but Judge Rosenthyme gestured for them to hold. His red lips formed a small smile, and two sharp teeth protruded out of his mouth. His snake-like pupils dilated, and it was almost like he was experiencing a rush of excitement.

"To be honest, I'm glad that I'll be going to the sixth floor," Drake began as he continued to stare at Jonas, "I thought that if I got sent to the first floor with you, I'd be taking care of you again, just like before, always dead weight I have to lug around, but not this time," Jonas caught his breath and he tried to speak.

"You-" but before he even had time to say anything, another fist had hit his stomach, and this time much harder.

"You've always held me back, you useless shit. I could have done so much in life once we were free from our drug-addicted parents. I could have even been an NFL superstar. However, I had to work to feed you, take care of you, it was always about you," and his words were like daggers, but Jonas shook them off as he spluttered for air, a million words forming in his mind but none of them capable of escaping his trembling lips. Judge Rosenthyme looked at Jonas, and his smirk grew even wider.

"This is the man your brother is Jonas, he is a cold, ruthless person, and you need to accept the fact that you two are just not cut from the same cloth, you need to accept the fact that you cannot walk the same path as him."

Mr. Duran also looked at Jonas. He wondered if maybe Judge Rosenthyme was right about his decision after all, for what kind of person could beat their younger brother who had just defended them.

"I won't see you anymore," said Drake, "Enjoy your time in Hell, and try not to be such a pussy anymore, that way you won't be a burden on whatever moron that takes care of you," Drake turned on the spot and held his hands together toward the prisoner escort.

"Take him away and prepare the prisoner for lock up," said Judge Rosenthyme as he waved his hand. Just as they were leaving, Jonas got to his feet and used all his willpower to ignore what he thought was a ruptured diaphragm.

"Liar," he spluttered, "Fucking liar!" Jonas was bent over, and he was having a hard time keeping his balance. Drake sighed in a frustrated manner as he strode back across the room towards Jonas.

His fist swung once more, but Jonas was ready, and he deflected it. Drake did not bat an eyelash as he threw a much quicker punch. The prisoner escort looked once more towards Judge Rosenthyme, but once again, he allowed the spectacle to continue. Jonas was just as fast as he dodged the second punch and a third, and then a fourth.

Drake lifted his knee and Jonas knew a kick was coming, so he ducked his head and spun on the spot, but Drake feigned the kick and instead brought his knuckles crashing at the back of Jonas' neck. The young teen coughed once in shock before falling into a crumpled heap onto the ground.

"I'm ready now," said Drake, and with one last look at the semi-unconscious Jonas, he marched off with his guard, and the armored demons blocked his silhouette. Just before they exited the large golden door, he heard the voice of his younger brother for the last time.

"I'll… find you…" Jonas whispered as he tried to crawl to his feet. "I'll… find… and get you back… cocksucker…" and that was the last thing Drake Ariel heard before the doors slammed shut behind him.

Judge Rosenthyme also got to his feet and began marching towards the door, but not before giving one last glance towards that upper window.

"Your brother will be better off without you," Judge Rosenthyme said, and his voice didn't contain even a hint of pity, "Hell is for people like him; strong, brutal, willing to even hurt his own family, that's the type of person who belongs here. You, though, you're too soft. You won't last long, but good luck all the same," he turned his head to Mr. Duran, "Get your client ready and bring him to the gate."

"I will, your Honor, thank you," and he bowed his head as the Judge also strode out of the room, those bright golden doors slamming behind him. This left only Mr. Duran and a ragged heap that was Jonas Ariel alone in the courtroom. For a few moments, Jonas said nothing as he coughed and tried to regain his breathing, and then he rose to his feet. His face had a thin layer of cold sweat, and his expression was blank.

"Well," said Mr. Duran, "We must go now. I will bring you to the gate, and from there they will give you your necessities, and then you will be on your own."

"Bring me," said Jonas, and then he followed Mr. Duran out of the room and down that same corridor. They did not speak at all from the courtroom to their destination. Maybe it was because Mr. Duran had nothing to say, or perhaps it was because of the sharp look in Jonas' eyes that unnerved him. However, once he braved another glance at the boy's expression, he leaped out of his skin when he found it was at peace.

Jonas finally realized the reason that the demon escort had shown up was for his brother, though he still felt like there was something strange about the matter. His body hurt, and his brain didn't feel like solving any mysteries. Instead, he marched on until they arrived at their destination.

They came to a room that reminded Jonas of the area in prison where one would hand in all their belongings and prepare to be locked up. "Okay," began Mr. Duran, "You will take off your clothes, and put on the uniform that they give you, and then you will get a hell phone, and then you will go," he said as he gestured to a sliding window where a fat demon sat while playing on what looked to be a handheld game console.

"Why can't I keep these clothes?" Jonas asked.

"Everyone in Hell starts with the same prison scrubs," Mr. Duran explained, "It's a tradition that has been around for many years. We do it as a reminder that you cannot bring anything from your past life with you into Hell."

"I'm bringing my memories with me, aren't I?"

"Yes, that is true," Mr. Duran nodded his horned head, "You won't keep those memories for long though if you aren't careful. If you go walking around Hell in clothing other than prison scrubs, you might just find that someone will rob you blind."

"Which is it," Jonas furrowed his eyebrows, "Is the first floor a place where decent people go when they die or is it a cruel place?"

"It is indeed a place where good people go when they die, however, that does not stop those people from becoming cruel after the fact, does it now?"

"No, it doesn't," Jonas agreed as he began stripping off all his clothing until he stood naked in the room. He approached the counter and waited for the chubby demon to pause his game. After a few moments, the demon sighed, got off his chair with a deep grunt, and began collecting various items from the shelves around his office.

After a moment of huffing and puffing, the demon accepted a pile of old clothing from Jonas, and in return, he gave him a stacked pile of black clothing that comprised scrubs, shoes, socks, and underwear. Jonas also noticed a brown package on top of the pile that piqued his interest.

"Does everyone wear scrubs?" asked Jonas as he finished sliding his sneakers over his feet.

"Well," said Mr. Duran, "Clothing will be scarce, and you will need a job to afford nice things, the only people who don't wear scrubs are the kind you should stay away from," and he added, "Don't forget your hell phone," to which Jonas pulled out what appeared to be a thin, black smartphone from a package. It was much nicer than the huge brick that he had owned in his previous life.

"You mean this cell phone?" said Jonas as he flipped it over in his hand. He wondered what use he would have in Hell with a smartphone.

"No," said Mr. Duran, "We call this a hell phone, not a cell phone like in the mortal world. Turn it on, I'll explain how it functions," to which Jonas held down the power button on the side. After a few moments, an intro sequence played, and the words displayed 'Demandroid 5.0' as a loading bar filled. Jonas made a funny face as he watched the phone being set up for the first time.

"We can use the hell phone for many things, and prisoners get one because the floors of Hell are too big. Just like a regular phone, it has all the common applications like texting, banking, and it can even take pictures," and Jonas raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Great, I can take selfies in Hell,' and if it was not for his foul mood, he might have thought the whole thing hilarious.

"Also," added Mr. Duran, "You can visit the app store and purchase interesting applications that may or may not help you in your travels."

"That makes sense," said Jonas, "Micro-transactions still exist in Hell," though he was not sure if Mr. Duran understood the reference. He felt his hand vibrate, and he looked down to see that his hell phone had finished initializing.

"The new firmware update lets you fill in your information with a drop of blood," Mr. Duran explained, "Just put your finger on the front lens," he added, and Jonas placed his index finger over the selfie lens. He felt a slight pricking sensation, like a diabetic checking their blood sugar, and when he pulled it away, he noticed the phone had filled all his details in; his name, weight, height, age, identifying features, home floor, and title.

"What does Commoner mean?" asked Jonas as he tapped the touchscreen to finish the initializing.

"It's uh," Mr. Duran looked awkward, "The very bottom of the totem pole," but Jonas did not register what Mr. Duran had said because all the applications on the phone fascinated him.

"Won't people try to steal this from me?" Jonas asked.

"No, hell phones are practically worthless because they are government-regulated and everyone has one, and they are extremely cheap to buy if you lose yours. When someone dies, their hell phone will automatically detect it and will self-destruct, the government will seize all their funds and possessions, this is a prevention measure."

"Of course, the government seizes the assets," Jonas chuckled, "What if they held someone hostage and forced them to send money as ransom?"

"The hell phone can detect such, it can monitor your heart rate, and can even check the condition of your body if you buy the right application," said Mr. Duran, "You'll have to be a bit more resourceful if you want to steal someone's money."

"It seems people are worth more alive than dead," Jonas said, but Mr. Duran raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You'd be right to assume that. Anyway, click the app that is shaped like a question mark, and you will find frequently asked questions," Jonas did as he was told and clicked the question-mark-shaped app that was right next to his text messages.

Most of the questions were quite basic, such as asking for the rules or locations of something, but others seemed to give much more detailed responses, such as social norms to know or places not to enter.

"If you find yourself lost or confused, just visit that application, or you can always download Dreadit, and ask on the forums, but…" Mr. Duran hesitated before continuing, "You might get trolled if you ask something stupid," he pushed his spectacles up and looked embarrassed as if he was talking from experience, "Those on the internet are very mean."