Matthew's studio apartment was a cramped space, barely enough room to stretch one's legs. The walls, painted in a faded shade of off-white, seemed to close in on him as he sat on a worn-out couch. The dim light from a solitary lamp barely illuminating the peeling wallpaper, creating a gloomy atmosphere.
A small kitchenette occupied one side of the room, cluttered with unwashed dishes and pile of empty takeout containers. A narrow bed, barely more than a cot covered with messy sheets, lay on the opposite side.
Matthew's attention was fixed on the laptop before him. The glow from the screen illuminated his face as he read through the digital pages of a crime novel. However, his initial intrigue turned into frustration, and with a sudden burst of irritation, he slammed the laptop shut.
"What the heck is this? Intimidation my ass!" Matthew exclaimed, his voice echoing in the confined space. He continued critiquing the portrayal of the so-called 'mafia boss' in the novel. "Pretending he's some badass, but all he does is throw money around and spew empty threats like a second-rate actor trying to play tough."
"Oh! and the love interest? Here comes, Miss Innocent, prancing into the lion's den like she's immune to the reality of crime. Give me a break! You can't be in a crime story without a little blood on your hands." He mused.
Matthew's discontent extended to the authors themselves. "What's the deal with these authors, sidelining badass crime ladies for some doe-eyed, clueless damsel? Look at the other lady! She's got the brains, the skills, and a rap sheet longer than this trash novel."
"But what does our supposed 'mafia boss' do? Chooses the doe-eyed, clueless chick instead, who probably can't tell a gun from a bouquet. Are you f**king kidding me? Power couple potential thrown out the window for the tired damsel-in-distress trope. Classic!! "
His frustration reached a boiling point as he ranted about the lack of moral consequences and the shallowness of the characters. "It's all rainbows and unicorns in this crime-infested fairy tale. Where's the internal struggle? F**k this romanticized crime fantasy; I need something that doesn't insult my intelligence."
As Matthew's rant subsided, a quiet inner monologue began. He reflected on his childhood dream, a desire to become the greatest big daddy boss in the city.
Matthew had always yearned for power. He wanted to be a very successful and rich person. Born into a high middle-class family. His father was a honest businessman and his mom was a white collar worker. Matthew couldn't escape the values instilled in him from a young age.
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He saw himself as a frog at the bottom of a well, limited by the perspectives of his upbringing. The longing for something more, something beyond the ordinary, fueled his discontent.
He stood up and leaned on the balcony railing, staring at the sparkling city lights below. A rebellious spark flickered in his eyes as he thought about the world he lived in.
"Society's just not fair," he mumbled to himself. "The rich keep getting richer, and the poor, well, they just keep getting the short end of the stick. It's like a never-ending monopoly game."
He shook his head, feeling the frustration build up. "Everyone just blindly follows the rules, like frogs at the bottom of a well. And you know what keeps them there? The law and order, making sure they stay in their place."
"I've always wanted power, to be on top of this messed-up chain. But the thing is, I'm starting to think you can't climb to the top without getting your hands dirty. Good and evil, they're just labels, and everyone's got a bit of both."
He sighed, his thoughts echoing in the quiet night. "Why bother with all the hypocrisy? No one's clean, so maybe to get to the top, you gotta bend the rules a bit. Maybe even break a few."
From a young age Matthew always saw his parents busy and working. But even though they were well-off they couldn't be called 'rich'. He himself saw his father paying 'protection money' to local 'security groups' and his mother had to sometimes give 'gifts' to officials to 'cultivate a favorable environment' for cooperation.
If they aren't getting rich by doing what they are supposed to do and following the rules, then they must be doing something wrong, right?
A yawn escaped Matthew's mouth, breaking his train of thoughts. He glanced at his watch, registering the late hour. It was 3 am, and fatigue weighed on him, but a pressing need interrupted his contemplation – the urge to use the toilet.
Groggy and tired, Matthew stumbled toward the bathroom. However, in his clumsy state, fatigue got the better of him. His leg slipped, and he crashed headfirst into the tap, losing consciousness.
When Matthew opened his eyes, the cramped studio apartment was no longer there, instead it was replaced by a vast underground volcanic cave. The air was hot and smelled of a thick stench of Sulphur and Brimstone.
Strange glowing crystals embedded in the rocky surfaces and lava falling from the ceiling illuminated the place, casting eerie shadows on the rocky walls. Confusion gripped Matthew as he took in his surroundings.
Suddenly a demon-like being with red rocky skin, ember eyes and two horns caught his attention.
The demon standing on the elevated platform announced grabbing everyone's attention - "Welcome sinners from [Earth #1551643], TO HELL. Soon you will be escorted to the 'Court of Hell' to be judged for your sins by his esteemed majesty, the King of Hell himself, Lucifer Morningstar."
Matthew eyes widened as he looked at the demon, his face full of Shock, Fear and Confusion.