Locked and Loaded

"Ballpoint or fine tip. Ballpoint or fine tip."

A handsome young man murmured as he perused the shelves of a stationery store.

"Ballpoint or fine tip…"

Before long, another voice called out from the front of the store.

"Hurry up, mate. You're taking a ridiculous amount of time to pick a pen. We're going to miss our bus. And if we do, you're paying for our Uber."

The young man broke his concentration and looked to where the voice emanated from. He smiled and shouted in reply.

"Yeah, yeah. One moment, it's an important decision, you know."

He returned to his musings.

"The ballpoint pen is, dare I say, studier. More aggressive on the page. The fine tip is more agile; delicate but precise."

He rested in hand on his lightly stubbled chin.

"I suppose I'll get both."

With that, the man grabbed the two pens off the shelf, walked over to the counter and purchased them. He joined with the person who spoke earlier outside the store who was quick to instruct.

"Okay, fast walking from here on out. We still might make it. Anyway, what'd you end up getting, Lock?"

Lock replied. "I felt a bit greedy and got both. And I mean they're only two pens so they're pretty cheap. Not sure why I pondered so much in hindsight. Thanks for waiting though, Jono."

Jono laughed. "It's 'cause you're a weird unit."

The two continued to chat as they briskly made their way down the city street to their destination: the bus stop that would take them to university. For today was just another ordinary Wednesday and the two had a tutorial with participation marks that began in 30 minutes.

When the bus stop was in sight, just across the street and a few dozen metres away, Lock noticed something.

"Shit, I can see the bus coming down the street. We might have to put on a bit of a jog to get across in time."

Jono nodded in assent and the two went to dart across the road. As they neared the other side, suddenly, a middle-aged office worker on an electronic scooter going at an immense pace appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

He crashed heavily into Jono, crumpling him over his handlebars. The office worker's momentum was so great that he continued on past Jono and also cleaned up Lock. Soon, a mess of three bodies and one broken green electronic scooter decorated the gutter of the busy city street. Spectators looked on in concern and perhaps even awe.

Lock groaned.

"Fuck me, cunt. What the fuck."

He sat and in doing so felt a jolting pain spread throughout his left leg. He grimaced in pain and as he grabbed a hold of it. He looked around and attempted to gather himself.

"Jono, mate. Are you alright?"

Jono remained sprawled across the scooter's handlebars. He mustered a reply.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Chest properly hurts though."

The middle-aged man was similarly trithing in pain, though fortunately, he had been wearing his helmet.

Then a loud horn and the screeching of breaks entered Lock's ears. He turned and looked.

The bus was coming directly towards them.

"Oi, move!" Lock screamed. He tried to follow his own advice but when he tried to put weight through his leg to move it collapsed on itself.

He went to crawl but knew he wouldn't be able to make it in time. Then, he felt his arms and body yanked from the gutter onto the pavement to safety. He looked up and saw Jono with a bloody and gravel-rashed face standing over him, his hands gripping the arms he had just pulled.

Next to him, the middle-aged man had similarly rolled to safety.

The sound of the horn and the screeching of the breaks ceased. Turns out the bus managed to stop before them in any case.

Lock breathed a sigh of relief although he suddenly felt a wetness in his pants. Fearing the worst, he attempted to subtly inspect further, eventually recognising the wetness as ink from the now-busted pens in his pocket.

"I nearly pissed myself then, not going to lie."

Jono retorted.

"I wish I could say for me it was only nearly. Also, your leg looks fucked – don't look at it, it'll make things worse."

The adrenaline wore off with the statement and the pain instantly returned. Lock couldn't help but let out a low yell. He returned to bracing his broken leg but managed to muster a smile. "Things could've been worse with the bus though. Thank you."

By this point, dozens of bystanders had gathered around them, offering help and support. One had even called the emergency services. The middle-aged man, too, came over and offered his apologies.

While lying with his back on the pavement for the ambulance to arrive, Lock looked up and admired the clear sky above him with the occasional Ibis flying overhead. A sense of peace and tranquillity, despite his circumstances, washed over him. He reached into his pockets and felt around, clutching tBut this wasn't to last.

In the next instant, the sky above split open as a giant eye emerged. And the first thing this eye saw was Lock, staring back at it dumbfounded.

Screaming erupted all around Lock as the eye looked around, its pupil darting back and forth. Then, it paused. An ominous feeling welled in Lock. He turned to look at Jono, who was similarly staring back at him, shocked.

The two could not even muster a word amidst the screaming and terror.

The next moment giant fingers appeared at the edge of the hole. These fingers ripped the sky hole open further, revealing part of an enormous white face. A deafening-loud unintelligent voice then came from the void. At the same time, the eye blinked and seemed to focus, strain even. What followed was a sea of black flames that swept out from the void, threatening to engulf everything within the eye's vision.

And first on its list was, naturally, the first object the eye had seen: Lock. The flames rushed towards him at an imperceptible pace and, in an instant, he felt his body be flooded with pain before turning to ash.

Though rather than return to some darkness as he expected, what greeted him was a multi-coloured hall made of all manner of material, many of which he didn't recognise. This isn't to say they weren't otherworldly, but simply that Lock wasn't a geologist and so his knowledge of materials was not extensive.

At the end of the hall was a great throne and seated on it was a robed elderly man with horns protruding from his forehead.

Lock felt pulled towards the figure. When he was within hearing distance, he muttered.

"Horns… Are you the devil? Is this the afterlife? Am I dead?"

The horned man laughed. Upon closer inspection, Lock noticed much scarring running across the old man's face. He also noticed the old man seemed to be missing a leg and an arm, though it was hard to tell given the overflowing robes.

"No, I am not this devil of who you speak. Though worry not about misidentifying me, there are not many who know my name. In fact, the last one of your kind who I spoke to wondered if this was gay Heaven."

Lock looked around, surveying the colour scheme. With a furrowed brow he respectfully replied.

"Yeah, to be honest, I kind of see that."

The robed man harrumphed.

"I thought it was kind of stereotypical and arguably homophobic personally. But let's move on."

The robed man cleared his voice and began to continue.