Your underground peregrinations will have really made you meet some weird people.

Once you have passed the sleazy curtain you arrive in front of a spy-hole door. Someone opens it and you enter a place full of darkness and stinking of tobacco.
The only thing that your eyes really manage to see from behind the smoke puffs and the multicoloured rays of a kaleidoscope is a troll battering his guitar with large wrist volleys.

The resulting sounds, indistinct at first, seem to relate to the shouting melody of heavy metal.

They are the bounty hunters of hell. This does not help a great deal...

Their rough expressions and bulging muscles do really nothing to reassure you. Yet their scary look does not provoke any dislike. On the contrary. The gloomy look in their eyes somehow shows something somewhat tragic. And this feeling is confirmed as you start a little chat with one at the bar.

" For centuries upon centuries we've slaughtered prolifically. On earth however, men have quite efficiently taken over. But hell doesn't lack of partners behind our murders. Envy, anger and betrayal feed our business. And we don't make out any end to it " he confides.

" Hatred and sadism don't give our task the former thrill anymore. "

You suggest that it might be time to change job : working for the sake of Good could offer an exciting new perspective !

" If it was possible, the demon sighs. But Lilith gave me life, just like she did for all my fellow creatures, to annihilate all existence even if this fate means death to us too, as we now carry on the massacre among each other. This situation, by the way, is not totally departed from the growing scepticism of the inhabitants of earth about the reality of our involvement in their affairs. "

Never you would have guessed that a demon's life could be so boring. Without the tears you still feel for such a destiny.

One by one you scrutinise these killers with so gloomy a life. It looks like you have seen some of them before. But where the hell would you have met them ?

Ah !
That's it ! You recognise one of them. His only equal in nastiness is Anatheos the angel.

At this moment a growl wakes you up. You turn your head over. It is a giant who looks like coming straight out of a sci-fi movie. He is holding a rifle as heavy as an anvil. On his shoulder are his hunting trophies. He appears to come for you...

" Are you the shrink ? " he asks.

The question resounds in your deafened brain. It rebounds about ten times on your skull face before you really understand what it means.
Those demons without a cause ask for help for their ill soul. And they have heard of you hanging about in hell. But obviously they give to this casual visit a very special meaning. You can listen, you know how to postpone judgement of others for a while. And this, they understood. And in this world where "do" and "have" are the watchwords, you belong to those who know the value of silence and contemplation.

Thus you see all the demons coming towards your bar corner.

One after the other they pour before you to tell you about their misfortunes, their existential worries and their inner emptiness. And you listen to everyone's story.
You would have never thought that there could be so much pain inside a demon. Evil not feeling so good ! But what is beyond evil ?

Oh God ! What a painful introspection ! When looking towards the borders of your soul you find no content, no edge !

However a dilemma arises before your conscience. You quite gladly help those monsters to get themselves back together, to regain motivation in their work... But what kind of work? For, by doing so, you comfort them in their destruction and desolation work, which is indeed their reason for being.

You can not agree like that to become the accomplice of evil by giving to his actions the psychological credit that threatened to fail it.

What can you do ? What can you tell them ?

It is really tearing your heart apart : to abandon these ancient demons to their distress and allow a respite on the front of misery ; or to dress the wounds on their souls and let murder be perpetrated?

Not knowing what to do anymore, you silence your reason and, in a state of infinite grief, leave your patients. They watch you go without protests, all contrite, orphans from now on.

Out of the tavern you now stroll about painfully without a goal, feeling deeply sick. Yes, you are definitely a damned soul ! Totally helpless in front of psychological adversity...

Eventually the dead end in which you end up matches like an allegory the one your mind is stuck in.
There are three doors in front of you. Nothing tells you where each of them leads. So you let chance drive your destiny.