After what felt like an eternity and a half of not breathing, Wesley convulsed in a fit of uncontrollable coughing. The swirling hyperspace visuals around him gradually collapsed into a silent, empty void. The young, anthropomorphic panther shivered, fighting to keep from crying, but after a few minutes, the dam broke. At just eleven years old being too young to fight the river of emotions, Wesley sobbed uncontrollably, his tears echoing through the nothingness.


His cries soon attracted attention.


Lambda—nicknamed Lamb—an archangel appearing as a white-winged, magenta labrador retriever, arrived to investigate the disturbance. Apparently, the noise was just loud enough to irritate heaven’s peaceful corridors.


Lamb circled Wesley curiously. “Did you create this dimension?” he asked, concern flickering in his voice.


Wesley paused his crying but avoided eye contact. “I just wanted to see Jehovah,” he whispered, defeated.


Lamb burst out laughing. “Ha—hahaha! Kid, that’s a bit too romanized. What, were you in a death cult or something? That’s not the best way to get Yahweh’s attention, y’know. The cult thing, and the whole… taking your life part.”


Wesley blinked, stunned. “But I… so that’s it? I’m just stuck here? With you?” He chanced a brief glance into the archangel’s warm brown eyes. In that moment, he knew his name—telepathically, instinctively. A small smile crept onto his face. “God calls you Lamb, huh? You’re kinda like his stuffed animal.”


Lamb flushed bright red. “Okay, that’s enough of that.” He fidgeted. “Listen, I didn’t even know this dimension existed. You should’ve gone straight to heaven or hell. Seems like your life’s… novelty caused a glitch in the afterlife processing system.”


Wesley’s ears drooped submissively. “Is there any way to fix it? Can I… still get to heaven?”


Lamb’s face tightened. “Look, if you were meant for heaven, you’d already be there. I’m afraid I have to send you to hell.”


The boy panther recoiled, backing as far as he could in the claustrophobic void. “I—I can’t go down there. Can’t I just… make something here? What are the rules? I could make it up to God, I could—” His voice trailed off in quiet despair. “Forget it.”


Before Lamb could console him—or open a portal to hell—an astral projection of an indigo vampire fox appeared, sitting calmly in the void.


“What the hell are y’all so worried about?” the fox yawned. “From up here, hell doesn’t even seem that bad. Anyway, I’m still technically stuck in the Pride Ring hospital.”


Lamb’s eyes narrowed as he curiously poked at the fox’s translucent form, his paw passing right through. “Who are you? And how are you even doing this? I’ve never seen an astral projection like yours.”


“Name’s Morbid,” the fox said flatly. “Guess the overdose short-circuited my brain and soul or whatever.” She lazily glanced at Lamb. “Also, isn’t that panther kid a little young for you? Always figured angels were into that kinda sick stuff.”


Lamb’s canine tail bristled as he scoffed. “God tasked me with resolving this situation. I would never be intimate with a hellbound child.”


Wesley squeezed his eyes shut, trembling in terror.


At that moment, another figure entered the void—stepping through a legally distinct yellow triangular portal.


Captain Mara Sheirs, a light-gray cybernetic housecat, appeared and surveyed the space with mild annoyance. “Wow. Lamest dimension I’ve ever seen. Must be a bad writer or something.”


Lamb waved his paw around dismissively. “I’ve already received my orders from God. No matter how many weird sinners show up, I’m taking this kid to hell. I’ll try to drop him somewhere safe.”


Mara held up her feline paw in protest. “Hold it. My mission’s to correct anomalies like this. You all are screwing with the time stream, but more importantly, if I don’t do something here, I don’t get paid.”


She flashed a grin at Morbid. “Man, girl, how much ketamine did you take?”


“Mostly Benadryl,” Morbid replied flatly. “Not even ketamine. Honestly, I don’t know when I ended up in hell. But I always knew I’d come back as a vampire.”


Mara’s ears perked as a spark of an idea lit up in her circuitry. “Tell you what—I’ve got no set timeline on this job. I’ll shadow the kid in hell, check in on him from time to time. I don’t really care what the holier than thou dog has to say.”


Lamb sighed, unamused, as he silently opened a glowing portal to hell and gently set Wesley on the gritty streets of the Pride Ring. “Well, then I’m no longer responsible for his safety. Which is fine, because even though I can come and go as I please, I’d rather not set footpaw in the land of sin.”


Mara nodded and affixed a futuristic device to Morbid’s astral form. With a few flashes, the projection vanished—seemingly reintegrating with her physical body.


Before departing, Mara smirked—and promptly kicked Lamb in the nuts.


With a flash, she beamed out of the void.


Lamb groaned in agony, waiting for the pain to subside before quietly slipping away back to heaven.