When the man that Stanley spoke to in his fantasticly, real dream, was blown up in the explosion and fell to Hell, there was two cities he could have chosen to enter. He chose to enter the city in front of him. The city behind him was constructed of gold and silver, however you could not tell because of the red light that came from the sky. Justan felt some pleasure by looking at the beautifull city, but not much. He still had feelings, but, he was also one of the damned, sent to Hell by God and his disciples. He was of by nature destined to go to the run down, rat infested, plagued, self-mutalations and teturous city before him.

Justan stood up after the tremendous fall he had endored and studied the gates before him. They were rusty and dirty looking. The top was at least forty feet up into the sky from what Justan determined. The pattern that the gates bore were iron spiderwebs that were rusted from the hot weather and sand that blew in between the crevisous's of the web. The lock on the gates twist and turn in a ball of confusion that only Satan might untwine.

To the left and right, endless walls ran to eternity and gave life to veins that had black blood coarsing through them. These were the black veins that feed blood to the rest of it's black body, the city. Justan was turned on by the darkness of the city. He could feel pain and agwish rising from the dirt surrounding this refuge for evil. He could feel the black blood start to embody him and take him into it's sick world. He would soon be like so many others, one with the city, one with darkness. He would soon be one of the Bad in the sadistic city and the nemesis of all that is good.

The gates crept open making a cry of pain as the hinges turned away from each other. A breeze that brought a taste of death with it, blew through Justan's hair. Although it was a hot gust of wind that felt like a belch from Satan himself, it was still very tantalizing for Justan's new path of afterlife.

Justan turned around for a minute and stared at the city that was at least a mile from this place, and snickered. There was nothing funny on his mind. He was just thinking about the new pleasures of hatered, horror and possiblities of torture that he would in doubtible experiance in the next eternity. He is a madman after all.

He stepped through and in a moment's flash he gained an understanding of where he was, and why he was sent there. He lived his whole life over again in the blink of an eye. All the terrible things he had done to others and the pain done to him was rehashed. The time he got stuffed in the toilet and half drowned by those fourteen year olds, It was all relived. Justan, for a moment, wished he had done differently, if he hadn't played with fires so much, if he hadn't blown up those buildings, if he hadn't killed five people on that occasion when he hadn't waited for a fucking minute so they could leave. He regreted doing those things, but, just for a moment. This was going to be heaven for him down in this place called Hell.