The devil looked out at the courtroom.

The chaos of it, which currently looked more like a high school cafeteria amid a food fight than a place of decisions, did not bring him happiness as it once may have. The two attorneys he employed, Bundy and Simpson, were angrier than usual, arguing that their clients be admitted while the backlog of those seeking entrance continued to fill the room. The bailiffs, ranging from notorious gang members to football players, were doing all they could to keep the room from exploding.

“You have a MASS MURDERER here! Admittance should be a given. Sure, they were grown adults, but we are looking at calculated kills, not a crime of passion,” yelled a heated Ted Bundy, flipping his tie behind his back in rage, “everyone knows that hate and love grow from the same tree.”

He paused for effect, closing his eyes to bring home the point.

He then pointed to his client with a charming smile.

“This fellow right here, he grew from a cold, cold plot of land!”

“Give it a rest, Bundy!” retorted OJ Simpson, turning his attention to the devil himself, “Children, your Infernal! I bring you a child murderer! You can’t possibly refuse this one here?!” The fingerless gloves he wore to all cases as a joke stretched to their limit as he balled his fists.

The devil rubbed his temple, with frustration, before taking a deep breath.

“SILENCE!!!” he hissed.

He felt the fire surrounding him, leaping all the way to the ceiling. It felt calm to him, as if he had stepped into a hot tub. Such anger fit him well.

The room was silent, as instructed. The devil could sense the bailiff’s ease as those who awaited sentencing stopped being pushed in, giving the guards a much-needed moments reprieve. Even Ted Bundy was temporarily lost for words.

The devil took this time, considering his words carefully. His estate was overcrowded and underfunded. Normally, overcrowding wouldn’t bother him, but the lack of cells meant they were beginning to encroach upon his luxury suite. He loved being warden of Hell, but as he’d grown over the centuries, he also craved some quiet.

Like this right here.

The incessant screaming didn’t bring him the same glee it once had.

“Bring the twins forward,” he said finally, beckoning towards the entrance.

The hall that led to him had never cleared faster, making a clean path up to the bench.

Two girls, heads lowered, long straight hair shielding their faces, walked in lock step towards him. Both Ted and OJ retreated to their respective areas, wishing to be nowhere near these two. For a room known for its uncomfortably scalding heat, a cold breeze seemed to have been ushered in.

The girls made it to the front and came to a stop.

“Yes, your Infernal?”

The devil couldn’t be sure if one or both girls had spoken, if it could even be considered that at all. It was more like a wheeze, as if their vocal cords needed to be cleared of dust.

“It’s too crowded,” said the devil, waving towards the room, “as no doubt, you can tell.”

The girls both nodded but did not look up.

“So,” continued the devil, “you’ve each been granted an early release. Of course, under one condition…”

The cold breeze that had blown in seemed sucked out of the room, leaving behind a soundless vacuum.

One of the girls, the blonde one, lifted their head slightly, and a glint of something sinister shimmered behind the hair. The devil looked away.

“The condition,” he said, pretending to be fascinated by the columns of the courtroom that stretched high above, “is that you create a backlog for the pearly gates.”

The girls bowed their heads in unison.

“You two are Noah”, he said with a smile, cracking himself up, “now, bring a flood.”