Night of the Tiger

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Hades strode down the gloomy corridor, ignoring the skittering of feet and claws as demons of all shapes and sizes shrank back into the darkness to try to avoid his notice. He could have told them it was a waste of time. In his realm, he knew where everyone was. He was Lord of the Underworld, and Hell was his domain. He wanted to change that, wanted to expand his base of power. And the time was at hand for such advancement.

He walked deeper into the unending darkness, each step taking him farther away from the light. Nothing moved down here. Nothing lived. Nothing except for one very special prisoner.

Hades reached the end of a long-forgotten tunnel chiseled out of the earth when mankind was still living in caves and hunting with spears. Layers of dust rested undisturbed by the passage of time. A heavy metal door was padlocked shut. Nothing had changed in over five thousand years.

Pleased, he held out his hand and the massive lock opened and dropped to the floor. Dust kicked up, settling on his designer shoes. Hades frowned then shrugged. He’d get a new pair as soon as his business here was completed.

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